No Chance to Take Revenge on Her

In the blink of an eye, it was the third day of March, and the sun was scorching as ever. There was still no sign of rain, and the commoners would look up at the sky every day, silently praying for rain from the heavens.

Some even went to burn incense and kowtow, while the less fortunate ones knelt before the heavens.

Qiao Mai would take her children to the edge of the water ponds, where they would see the local folks carrying buckets of water for irrigation.

"Look closely. Every grain of rice and every mouthful of noodles you eat comes from their hard work: fetching water, watering the fields, weeding, and harvesting. It all lands on our dinner tables because of their toil."

"Mom, why do they have to carry water?"

"Because there's no rain. They have to carry water, or the crops won't grow properly. They'll go hungry, and so will we."

"The farmers work so hard."

"So, let's not waste a single grain of food."