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Du Runiang was compassionate, and could hardly wait to ask after Fu Zhiwen had washed up, "How are the displaced people doing?"
"Very poorly," Fu Zhiwen's voice was heavy, "they're either skin and bones from hunger or sick. If this drags on, I fear both the adults and children won't survive."
"We distributed porridge at noon, and in the afternoon quite a few more displaced people arrived," Fu Zhiwen continued, "Also, I heard from Qichun that today's spontaneous donations in the city didn't go well; we only collected a few hundred taels of silver in total."
Upon hearing this, Xiao Ruo pursed her lips and said, "Actually, it's no wonder they're reluctant to donate; after all, they've just made a large contribution not long ago."
But that large sum of silver had all been spent on buying medicinal herbs for the military camp, leaving nothing behind.