The Lucky Farmgirl
Chapter 281 - 270

Chapter 281: 270

Only when she saw clearly did she realize the child was in distress, struggling with minuscule movements, emitting faint cries that Manbao took for weeping.

Uncertain, she asked the other three, "Listen, is he crying?"

Dafu nodded, "He is crying; my grandma said he’s hungry."

Having said that, he picked up a bowl of lukewarm rice soup from a table nearby and carefully moistened the baby’s lips with it. He saw the baby move his lips but barely drink any, which made him struggle to hold back his tears again.

First, he glanced at his mother, who had her eyes tightly shut, then he quietly said to Manbao, "My grandma told me that my mother has no milk and my brother has nothing to eat; he can only have some rice soup. Usually, if my brother were okay, he could have a bit of rice soup, some crushed rice cooked until it’s very soft, or perhaps be carried to another village to beg for a mouthful of milk to cling to life. But my brother like this can hardly even swallow rice soup, let alone eat rice porridge, and if he were carried begging for milk, the wind might just..."

Therefore, it seemed Zhou Hu’s family had actually given up on the child.

Yet, Manbao felt unbearably heartbroken. Ever since she was little, her family had told her how hard it was for her to survive. When she was very young, her mother also had no milk, and she survived on the scant rations meant for the livestock.

Manbao clenched her fist and took the bowl from Dafu’s hand, "I’ll feed him."

She tried a sip herself then disdainfully said, "This is cold; it needs to be hot, right?"

Dafu immediately responded, "I’ll get a new bowl."

Manbao knelt beside the child, observing him. Bai Shanbao had grown accustomed to the sight and didn’t find him exceedingly ugly anymore. He then asked, "Can’t they hire a wet nurse if there’s no milk?"

Without a second thought, Manbao answered, "They definitely can’t afford it."

Pensive, Manbao asked Keke, "If people in the future don’t have babies themselves, do they still breastfeed their children?"

"Are there nutrient fluids and formula milk for children?"

Manbao’s eyes shimmered as she inquired, "Is it expensive?"

Of course, it was expensive. Food for infants and young children was pricey in any era.

In the future, there wasn’t just expensive, only more expensive.

Even if the benefits for the children across the star systems were the best, with free formula milk and nutrient fluids available every week, parents always seemed to think that what the star systems provided wasn’t great and preferred to spend more money on different brands of formula, which is why the nutrient fluids and formula milk circulating in the marketplace were not cheap.

Manbao surreptitiously searched and confirmed that the necessary points were indeed not cheap.

She sighed and hesitated, wanting to buy yet unable to make up her mind, "What is formula made of? Is it human milk?"

Keke: "...No, it’s from other mammals’ milk. Actually, the host can make do with what’s available. I found information in the Encyclopedia indicating that ancient formulas were mostly made from cow and goat milk."

"Ancient times?"

"Yes, the earliest records in the Encyclopedia go back to the Earth’s seventeenth century, and there’s nothing earlier." Keke scanned the child in front of the bed and thought he wasn’t nearly as handsome as the host, but as a system created by humans, it had a chip programmed to feel affection for humans, so it didn’t hesitate to suggest, "Goat milk is more suitable for infants like this one, but it has a stronger smell. I recommend the host use a pinch of green tea or jasmine tea to cook with it, to remove the smell."

Manbao nodded.

Bai Shanbao had been chattering away by her side. Seeing Manbao nod, he asked, "Do you agree with what I’m saying?"

Manbao looked at him, embarrassed to admit that her mind had wandered, and instead asked, "Why hasn’t Dafu come back yet?"

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Dafu returned with a bowl of hot rice soup.

The two children instantly stopped talking and made space for him.

Manbao carefully scooped a spoonful of rice soup, lightly blew on it, and gently placed it on the baby’s lips, letting a little dribble down.

The child drank a little, then began to cry weakly and spat the rice soup out.

Manbao was puzzled, "Why won’t he drink it?"

"He has had milk; of course, he wouldn’t want to drink rice soup," a weak voice said. Manbao looked up and realized Ms.Chen had opened her eyes at some point and was watching them with her head turned to the side.

Delighted, Manbao exclaimed, "Then Sister-in-law Hu, please try feeding him again."

"I have no milk; yesterday, when we were at the pharmacy, your elder sister took him to beg someone for a few sips of milk." As she spoke, she struggled to raise her hand to undo her clothes and try to nurse the child.

Ms.Qian, noticing what was happening, quickly stepped forward to hold her hand, "Don’t move, if there’s none, there’s none. With all the blood you’ve lost, how could you possibly have milk?"

In Ms.Qian’s view, milk was a transformation of essence blood.

She looked down at the child with his eyes tightly closed, let out a long sigh, picked him up, and took the spoon from Manbao’s hand, "I’ll do it."

Mother Chen saw this too and hesitated before stepping forward. She watched as Ms.Qian gently patted the child, feeding him the rice soup bit by bit.

At first, he didn’t eat, persistently spitting it back out.

But Ms.Qian didn’t mind. If he wouldn’t eat once, she’d feed him twice; if not twice, then three times. Her movements were calm and persistent, always ensuring that those one or two drops of rice soup ended up inside his lips.

Since the child was still young, she didn’t directly pour the soup into his tongue but placed it on his lips, letting it spill over if he couldn’t suckle.

After some time, whether from fatigue or hunger, or perhaps because he tasted the rice soup, he stopped spitting it out and began to suckle.

Ms.Qian breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that he wasn’t slow, so she quickened her pace.

The child started suckling and made soft humming sounds.

Not only Mother Chen but also Ms.Chen were stunned.

Ms.Qian finished feeding him the entire bowl of rice soup and then said to Ms.Chen on the bed, "The child still wants to live."

With that comment, Ms.Chen’s tears burst forth. She grabbed Ms.Qian’s hand, and her tears dripped onto it like a stream, "Auntie, auntie, I too want to live; I want him to live as well, but what do I do, what do I do..."

The room fell silent; no one spoke.

Ms.Qian let her cry, and after a good while, she comforted her, "Alright, you can’t cry all the time during your confinement, or it’ll hurt your eyes later."

"If you want to live, then live. Look at me, I’ve been sick for so many years, yet I’m still alive," Ms.Qian said, "How many times have I almost lost my life, but I still survived just by hanging on to that last bit of breath."

Ms.Chen, tearful, looked up at Ms.Qian and then at Manbao, a renewed determination in her expression.

When Ms.Chen got married, Manbao wasn’t there yet, so of course, she knew what Manbao’s situation was all about. Ms.Qian was already gravely ill, and Zhou Yin’s return only slightly improved her condition. But when Zhou Yin was carried back, Ms.Qian fell ill once more, left with little more than a breath to her.

Yet, she had clung to that breath and managed to survive.

Ms.Chen never really understood before; it was her husband’s younger brother, not her biological son.

But now, she vaguely grasped a bit of it.

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