A peasant girl travels through time with a hospital, rising to become an empress.

Tang Yu fell silent after hearing this.

His father had never spoken to him so sincerely before.

Does he really harbor no resentment at all?

Naturally not.

Watching Jiang Wenxuan's parents surround him every day, showing concern and accompanying him as he prepared for the exam, while he himself had no relatives by his side, a sense of loneliness and envy crept into his heart on countless nights.

He truly didn't understand what his father was so busy with every day that he didn't even have time to come home and see him.

This was true in Fulin County in the past, and it remains true now that he's in the provincial capital. Is it only when he passes the imperial examinations and brings honor to the family that his father will truly pay him any attention?

Is it because he is not good enough at studying that he does not deserve his father's care and companionship?

On one hand, he was puzzled by his father's behavior, and on the other hand, he couldn't help but doubt himself. These two emotions intertwined in his heart, leaving him unsure of how to respond.

After a long pause, he finally raised his head, his expression revealing little emotion.

"Father, there's no need for that. I'm doing well and my exams are going smoothly, so don't worry about me."

There were no complaints, only a faint sense of detachment.

Looking at his son's appearance, Tang Jincheng felt a lump in his throat, and a trace of loneliness flashed across his eyes. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know where to begin.

Gu Xiao observed the expressions on the father and son's faces and pondered something.

After a long pause, he put down his teacup and slowly said, "Lord Tang, you are setting up a soup kitchen tomorrow. I wonder if the three of us could go and help?"

Tang Jincheng was taken aback, then waved his hand: "The three of you are at a crucial time in your exam preparation. Distributing porridge is a complicated and arduous task, and the weather is cold now. If you get sick from the cold, it will be bad if it delays your exam."

"Don't worry, Lord Tang. Taking the exam is important, but studying also needs to be done in moderation. If you bury yourself in books all day long, your brain will inevitably become rigid. Going out and experiencing things can not only relax your mind but also broaden your horizons. It may not be a bad thing."

Upon hearing this, Tang Jincheng turned to look at Tang Yu and Jiang Wenxuan, wanting to hear their thoughts. Unexpectedly, the two nodded almost without hesitation.

That evening, Tang Jincheng stayed for dinner in Haitang Hutong. During the meal, he learned from Nie Qianqian that Jiang Lingyang's wife, Wei Susu, also lived in this hutong, in the house next door.

At the dinner table, Nie Qianqian and Tang Jincheng chatted casually.

The two started by talking about the local customs and traditions of the provincial capital and Fulin County, then discussed the dietary habits of the two places, and the differences in how people make a living.

Nie Qianqian spoke eloquently and logically, drawing on both her personal experiences and her own reflections.

Tang Yu sat to the side, listening with repeated exclamations of amazement—it turned out that Brother Gu's wife was not only beautiful, but also so knowledgeable, unlike a woman raised in seclusion, with a very broad perspective.

What surprised him even more was that when Nie Qianqian spoke to her father, she did not act like an ordinary person when facing an official. She was respectful and polite, yet natural and generous, without any sense of distance. In fact, she seemed quite familiar and close in conversation.

Tang Yu couldn't help but feel a little envious: he and his father had never had such a relaxed and pleasant time chatting about everything under the sun.

He also harbored a slight doubt: when his father was the magistrate of Fulin County, the people all respected and feared him. He had never seen his father get along so naturally and intimately with anyone.

The next morning, after breakfast, Gu Xiao, Tang Yu, and Jiang Wenxuan followed Tang Jincheng to the porridge distribution site.

The soup kitchen was set up in front of an old temple on the east side of the provincial capital. This area was home to many displaced disaster victims and was also open, making it convenient to distribute soup in a concentrated manner.

The makeshift shed was very rudimentary, with only a roof and drafts coming from all sides.

The winter wind howled and poured into the shed. The three of them had only stood there for a short while when the cold air seeped into their bodies.

Tang Yu rubbed his hands, which were red from the cold, and couldn't help but mutter, "In this freezing weather, will the people really come to collect porridge?"

Gu Xiao was arranging the coarse porcelain bowls for distributing porridge when he heard this, and replied without looking up, "Of course I will."

Looking at Tang Yu's slightly bewildered expression, he couldn't help but think of his own past.

At that time, he, like Tang Yu, was closed off in his own world, well-versed in poetry and books but detached from the hardships of life.

Gu Xiao was praised as a peerless genius in his youth, with overflowing talent and early enlightenment.

Looking back now, the articles I wrote back then were nothing more than a pile of fancy words. They seemed insightful, but in reality, they lacked a genuine experience of the hardships of ordinary people and were nothing more than empty talk.

During those three years of wandering, although he didn't read many new books or learn much new knowledge, he witnessed the hardships of life and experienced the coldness and warmth of human relationships. This experience truly allowed his knowledge and insights to settle down, giving his writings substance and warmth.

He had read several of Tang Yu's articles. They were full of allusions and used sophisticated language, showing some talent. However, they lacked in-depth thinking and a real connection to people's lives. They were like castles in the air, beautiful but unrealistic.

He proposed coming to distribute porridge for two reasons: first, to give the two men a chance to get some fresh air; and second, to let Tang Yu and Jiang Wenxuan see firsthand how truly impoverished people survive.

While Tang Yu was still pondering to himself, he saw that many people from all directions had come to see him after hearing the news.

Most of them were dressed in rags, some with elderly people and children in tow. Their faces were sallow, and their eyes were full of anxiety and longing. They walked slowly and laboriously toward the soup kitchen, and soon a long queue formed.

When each person lined up, their eyes were filled with an intense longing for food.

That gaze was fixed on Tang Yu, filled with an anxiety and anticipation he had never seen before, like parched land yearning for rain, so pure it made his heart clench.

Tang Yu served a full bowl of porridge to an elderly man in his eighties.

The old man clasped his hands together, his palms as dry as old tree bark, bowed slightly to him, and then carefully accepted the bowl.

His cloudy eyes welled up with tears. He didn't even bother to blow on them to cool them down. He gulped down the porridge in a few mouthfuls and finished it off in no time. He hadn't taken more than two steps before the bowl was empty.

He licked the rim of the bowl with lingering relish before handing the empty bowl back to Tang Yu, mumbling "Thank you, young master."

Not far away, a woman took the porridge, took only a small sip, and then pushed the bowl to the thin, bony child beside her, gently coaxing him, "Eat quickly, you won't be cold once you're full."

The child wolfed down his food, holding the bowl. The woman sat beside him, watching the child's satisfied expression, a weak yet gentle smile appearing on her lips, a smile like a faint flame in the cold wind.

Some optimistic people thanked the porridge repeatedly after receiving it, even though it was just a bowl of thin rice porridge that could only fill their stomachs, they smiled with great satisfaction.

That smile was completely genuine, as pure as a child's, making Tang Yu, Gu Xiao, and Jiang Wenxuan's hearts soften.

But most of the people wore numb expressions.

They silently accepted the porridge, quickly finished it, and then silently handed the bowl back, their expressions completely blank, even their thanks sounding weak and listless.

It was as if the long suffering had worn down their emotions, and even joy and gratitude had become a luxury.

The order was mostly good, but a few people couldn't stand the hunger and tried to cut in line for another bowl, or even tried to snatch other people's porridge.

Whenever this happens, the officials in charge of maintaining order will step forward to dissuade those who do not follow the rules and remove them from the line to ensure that the porridge distribution can proceed smoothly.

At first, Tang Yu was wondering to himself whether the three of them could survive a whole day in such cold weather.

But gradually, the outstretched, purple hands, the faces that were either yearning, numb, or smiling, made him completely forget the biting cold wind and the passage of time.

As he ladled out the porridge, listening to the waves of thanks and watching bowls of hot porridge being carefully accepted and drunk, a feeling he had never experienced before welled up inside him.

The phrases "people living in misery" and "displaced from their homes" that I used to read in books were just abstract words. But now, these words have transformed into the living people in front of me, into the longing and weariness in their eyes.

Before we knew it, the sun was setting, and the afterglow cast long shadows on the porridge stall.

When he handed out the last bowl of porridge, Tang Yu realized that his arms were already aching and his fingertips were numb from the cold, but his heart felt heavy, unlike the emptiness he usually felt.