The morning mist hung low over the Li family courtyard, curling around the broken beams like ghosts. Madam Li stepped outside, inhaling the thin, icy air. Her shawl, worn and patched, offered little protection, but she drew it tighter around her shoulders anyway.
The five sons were already awake. Yuan and Wei had started pulling weeds in what little soil remained in the yard, their fingers red and raw from frost. Zhi, Hao, and Ming huddled near the corner, trading whispered complaints about the cold.
"Mother," Yuan said cautiously, "do we dare venture to the neighboring village again today? Word is, the elders are patrolling for anyone hoarding grain."
Madam Li shook her head. "Not yet. We have enough for today. We must be careful. One wrong move…" Her lips tightened. She would not finish the sentence. They all knew what it meant: exposure, punishment, perhaps death.
Wei groaned. "I can't keep sitting here! I need to do something. Anything."
"You are doing something," Yuan said sharply. "You're alive. That's something."
Madam Li's eyes softened. The boys' temperaments were predictable, but their fear and hunger had sharpened their instincts. If she could channel that energy carefully, they could survive.
She led them to the back of the house, near the overgrown corner where no one cared to look. "I want to show you something," she whispered.
The five boys exchanged wary glances. "Is it food?" Zhi asked quietly.
Madam Li shook her head. "Better. But you must promise… you will not tell anyone. Not a soul."
They nodded, though Wei frowned. "Mother, I swear, but—"
She silenced him with a look. "I mean it. One word, and all is lost."
She pressed her palm to the ground. The air shimmered faintly, and when she blinked, the courtyard was gone. Before them stretched the Spring Space—the hidden world she had discovered the night before. The spring bubbled quietly, the soil ready and fertile, the healing pool shimmering faintly in the corner.
The boys' mouths dropped open. Hao whispered, "This… this is impossible."
Madam Li knelt, pressing a small handful of rice husks into the soil. Instantly, a green sprout shot up, bending under the weight of golden grains. The boys leaned forward, incredulous.
"It grows?" Ming breathed.
"Yes," she said softly. "And it can feed us if we are careful. But it is not limitless. We must plan."
Yuan's brow furrowed. "Mother, this… this could save us, couldn't it? But if anyone discovers it—"
"I know," she said. "That is why it remains hidden. Only we will know. We must treat it as a secret as precious as life itself."
Wei muttered under his breath, "We could show this to the elders, end the famine for everyone."
"Or be executed," Madam Li snapped, though gently. "Do you want to see your brothers die because of foolishness?"
The boys went silent, shame flickering in their eyes.
Over the next hours, Madam Li taught them how to carefully manage the Spring Space. She explained how a small handful of husks could become a handful of grains, but that if they tried to grow too much at once, the soil could reject it. She showed them how to draw water from the spring without leaving traces. She explained the healing pool only worked on minor injuries, nothing severe.
By midday, the boys had planted their first small patch of grain. Yuan was methodical, carefully spacing the sprouts. Wei tried to rush, impatient, but Madam Li corrected him gently. Zhi quietly observed, his analytical mind already noticing patterns. Hao and Ming worked together, bickering occasionally, but mostly following instructions.
It was the first time they had felt control over something in weeks.
Yet outside, the world remained merciless. The village was nearly silent that morning, the snow-dusted streets empty but for a few desperate travelers. Madam Li knew that word of food, even whispered, could draw the attention of the wrong people.
"We need a plan," she said when they returned to the hut. "We can survive today, but we must prepare for tomorrow—and the day after."
That afternoon, a faint knock rattled the door. All five boys froze. Madam Li's heart tightened. It was early for anyone to visit.
"Mother," Yuan whispered, "do you think… them?"
She nodded slightly. "Stay calm. Remember what I taught you."
The door opened to reveal a young girl from the village, clutching a small bundle of weeds and wild herbs. "Madam Li," she said, bowing, "I brought what I could find. Perhaps it will help with the stew."
Madam Li's face softened. "Thank you, Lian. That will help greatly."
The girl hesitated, glancing at the boys. "I… I heard rumors of a miracle in your house. I don't know if it's true."
Madam Li's heart skipped. She smiled gently, kneeling to meet the girl's eyes. "Rumors can be dangerous. Be careful with what you say, Lian. Promise me."
"I promise," the girl said quickly, bowing again before retreating into the cold.
The boys relaxed slightly. Yuan muttered, "We can't even trust whispers now. Not even small ones."
Madam Li nodded. "Which is why we must be careful. Always careful. Hunger will make men desperate. Desperate men make terrible choices."
By evening, they returned to their usual routines. The hut smelled faintly of the porridge she had prepared. It was thin, but everyone had eaten more than they had in days.
Madam Li sat by the fireless hearth, quietly watching her sons. Each one had a spark of hope now, small but flickering. She allowed herself a rare smile. For the first time in weeks, she felt… in control.
Yet beneath that hope, unease lingered. Her husband's absence haunted her. The jade seal she had found—the proof of his rank—remained hidden under her shawl, close to her heart.
If anyone discovered it, the family could be torn apart—not by famine, but by the power that object represented.
Night fell, colder than the morning. The boys were asleep, exhausted by work and worry. Madam Li walked outside once more, pressing her hand to the ground. The Spring Space shimmered faintly, a hidden world of promise waiting for her touch.
She allowed herself to relax just a little. The soil was fertile, the spring flowing, the healing pool calm. She could grow enough to feed her sons for months if she managed it carefully.
But the danger remained. Famine drove people to extremes, and curiosity could be deadly. Even whispers of a miracle could bring strangers—or enemies.
Her mind wandered to her husband. Two years gone, yet the thought of him returned again and again. Was he alive? Or had he truly been lost to the war?
A sudden thought made her stomach tighten. If he were alive… if he returned… what would he think of her sons? They had survived, yes, but they were still children in some ways, and yet almost men in others.
Her fingers brushed the jade seal in her shawl. A promise, she reminded herself. She would keep the family alive, protect the secret, and wait for the day he returned—if he ever did.
The boys stirred in their sleep, one mumbling. Madam Li placed a gentle hand on Yuan's shoulder. "Rest. Tomorrow, we plant more. Tomorrow, we survive."
Outside, the wind howled, harsh and unrelenting. Inside, the Spring Space pulsed softly in her mind, a heartbeat of hope.
Madam Li closed her eyes. Survival was not just about food. It was about cleverness, patience, and courage. She had all three, and she had five sons who would follow her as best they could.
And if the world tried to crush them, she would stand firm. For her family. For her miracle.
This famine would not claim them—not yet.