Here's a translation of the excerpt in a way that aligns with American reading habits:
At the Zhao family's porridge distribution, there was only a limited amount of food, and with so many disaster victims, some got porridge while others did not. Fortunately, after a short while, a few wealthy families came out to distribute more.
Of course, some of the victims went from one household to another, hoping to get more porridge. After all, one ladle of porridge was hardly enough for a person.
For Wan Qingping and his family of four, they didn't need to do that, because they had more than enough in their bucket. After little Manna, the youngest, ate her fill and her stomach swelled up, she ran off to play under the mulberry tree, catching cicadas.
After eating, Wan Qingping entered the city to see if there was any work available. He had to provide for his family. If he were alone, it would be different, but he couldn't just abandon his second mother and siblings. After all, when he was a child, his real mother ran off with someone, and it was his second mother who took care of him. Later, when he became a bookboy for his father's friend, it was because his second mother had begged for him.
Although his siblings weren't all from the same mother, they still shared the same blood as their late father, and he couldn't ignore them.
Wan Qingping spent the next three or four days wandering around the city. With so many disaster victims, some of them would work for food, but even if there was work available, the pay wouldn't be enough to support four people. Plus, the kinds of manual labor required weren't things someone like him could do.
"Big brother, lunch's ready!" Manna came running toward him, holding two buns. These weren't bought—they were "borrowed" from a street vendor yesterday.
It was simple. He'd order a basket of buns, and when he was almost full, he'd slip a caterpillar into one, then complain and demand compensation. Vendors in the city knew about these kinds of scams. Anyone who used such tricks wasn't a good person—they were either thugs or troublemakers. Most vendors would rather settle things quietly than make a scene. As a result, not only would they get their money back, but they'd even throw in an extra basket of buns.
The key to surviving in the streets was knowing how to read the situation. Wan Qingping never went to big restaurants because they were protected by either the government or local tough guys. If he tried to scam them, he'd likely end up getting beaten up. But these small roadside shops were different—no powerful people were involved, so they were perfect for him. Of course, he didn't do this too often to any one shop; that would be bad for business. He rotated through several shops so they wouldn't close down on him.
Of course, some of these small shops were protected by local bullies, and yesterday, two of them tried to intimidate Wan Qingping. However, after a quick and brutal fight, the two thugs were left with only their fingers, and the shopkeeper, terrified, offered him silver and extra buns to avoid further trouble.
After a few buns, Wan Qingping's younger brother ran up, out of breath, holding the small wooden bucket. Wan Qingping smiled and nodded.
The day before, he had made a name for himself by intimidating the other victims in line, and when he returned the next day, no one dared challenge him. His brother, taking the bucket to get porridge, wasn't bothered by anyone.
Wan Qingping took a ladle of porridge but didn't drink it. Instead, he walked off with the ladle in hand, seemingly for no reason.
"Here, Grandma, I've brought you some porridge!" Wan Qingping said as he placed the ladle next to an elderly woman with gray hair.
"Thank you, thank you! May the gods bless you for your kindness!" the old woman exclaimed, her gratitude overflowing. But Wan Qingping was wearing patched trousers with several patches, making her blessings seem a little out of place.
"No need to thank me, we're all poor folk here. After you're done, just return the ladle to where I'm sitting," Wan Qingping replied casually, pointing to his mat.
The old woman was suspicious—why would someone who looked like a disaster victim help her? She watched him walk away and sat down on her mat. Then, seeing the thick, rich porridge in the ladle, her smile widened.
But Wan Qingping wasn't doing this out of the goodness of his heart. He wasn't a saint, and there were many people more deserving of the porridge than this old woman. He had some plan in mind—his kindness came with strings attached.
Soon, someone walked over from a distance.
The man was tall, with a muscular build. His presence felt overwhelming, as if his very movements carried an unnatural force. He looked at Wan Qingping, his eyes scanning him up and down.
"You're the one who gave my mother porridge just now?" The man's voice was soft and respectful, but his physique made it clear he wasn't someone to be taken lightly.
Wan Qingping couldn't help but smile. The man was big, but his demeanor was shy and humble, which made Wan Qingping chuckle to himself. People were never as simple as they seemed.
"I'm Wan Qingping. And you are?" he asked, his tone friendly but sharp as always.
"Uh... I'm Zhou Minghu," the big man replied awkwardly.
"Ah, Zhou Brother. I'm pleased to meet you," Wan Qingping said with a grin. Internally, he was already thinking, An honest man, eh? He's easy to fool…
This translation captures the essence of the original text while making it more digestible for American readers. The cultural nuances are explained in a way that maintains the story's tone and character dynamics.