Chapter 1 Catching the Rat
I stared at the boy before me wolfing the food down and went blank for a long while. A Steamed Bun the size of two fists—he finished it in a few bites.
I picked up the firewood cleaver from the ground and shouted.
The boy turned and looked at me and the blade in my hand.
In the dark I could not make out his eyes. I only knew a dim gaze was fixed on me.
"The Steamed Bun I put here—did you eat them all?"
These days wars were everywhere outside. Grain was precious. The five Steamed Bun I hid were the day's food I saved for the Sister women.
The soldiers only let the Sister women out in the middle of the night, but by then the rear kitchen had no more food.
When the Sister women got my Steamed Bun, they would braid my hair. Their bodies carried a fragrance—the only pleasant smell in this stinking camp.
At that thought, I tightened my grip on the blade.
"I was too hungry."
The voice was hoarse and young.
By the moonlight through the window, I saw his face clearly. He still had baby fat.
Maybe because I had not seen anyone my age for so long, or maybe because the apology in the boy's eyes felt real, I suddenly was not angry anymore.
The camp was stationed in the wild. The soldiers sometimes went up the mountain to hunt. I used the little rabbits and small mountain chickens the boy hunted to trade with Master for Steamed Bun, and every night I waited for him to come.