Chapter 3 First Painting

It's getting dark.

The marching team stopped, and the officers and soldiers once again gave everyone a third of a bowl of water and a multigrain pancake.

This kind of pancake is extremely difficult to swallow. It is full of various beans, weeds and wild vegetables.

The most important thing is that it is tough!
  Fang Yuerong felt sorry for Qin Jia, so she only took a sip of water, handed the rest to her and said, "Jiajia, tear the pancake into small pieces and soak it to make your breath softer."

"Mom, you can keep it and drink it. I have it myself." Qin Jia shook her head and refused.

"It's okay. Mom's not thirsty. Save yours for later, and I'll make pancakes for you."

The mother and daughter pushed and gave way, but Fang Yuerong was defeated in the end.

"Mom, if you don't drink more water, what will your daughter do tomorrow if she catches the heat?"

Looking at Qin Jia's calm and serious face, Fang Yuerong tugged at the corner of his mouth bitterly and drank the remaining water with a smile.

After all the prisoners had eaten, they all lay down and rested.

After being tortured for more than half a month, any concerns about being dirty have long been forgotten.

If you are too tired during the day, you will seize the opportunity to rest if you can.

Smelling the aroma of barbecue coming from the tent where the escorting officers and soldiers were escorted, everyone could only close their eyes and forcefully fall asleep despite their hunger.

After Fang Yuerong fell asleep, Qin Jia's eyes were clear and not sleepy.

She quietly turned over and lay on the ground, using the light from the fire to tear off a small piece of rag from the dusty prison clothes on her body.

Then he frowned, bit his finger, and summoned the Ruyi Paintbrush from the sea of ​​consciousness.

She used to be afraid of pain even if she cut her hand with a knife, not to mention biting it.

But after living in the survival game for so long, she has long been accustomed to all kinds of pain.

***
  The red blood fell on the dusty cloth and gradually formed a simple ink stick.

Qin Jia tipped the pen, and the green liquid in the pen automatically poured out a little, and then merged into the painting.

She used her body to block the faint light that materialized at that moment.

In just a moment, the gray rag that was protecting him disappeared.

It was replaced by a piece of light red ink, probably because it was painted with blood.

Seeing that there was still enough liquid in the pen, Qin Jia squeezed her fingers hard, trying to squeeze out some more blood, but the wound could no longer be squeezed out.

If you want something fresh, you can only bite another finger again.

She had bitten two fingers on her left hand while drawing this ink stick, and there were exactly three intact ones left.

Just as he was about to bite, a bloody finger was handed to him.

Qin Jia panicked and then calmed down.

When he looked up, he saw that it was Fang Yuerong who was already fast asleep.

She didn't say anything, took a deep breath, soaked the blood and started painting seriously.

Inkstone, followed by a mini booklet of drawings.

After it turned into a real thing, it was only about the size of a palm, with 30 pages of white paper inside.

It's a small modern picture book with a lotus on the cover. She didn't draw a lotus, but she was afraid of getting it wrong, so she drew an outline.

After the rough painting turned into a real object, the thing was also quite rough.

After getting an inkstone, ink sticks and a drawing book, Qin Jia drew two bags of glucose injection and a box of matches under Fang Yuerong's cover.

She opened one of the bags and handed it to Fang Yuerong.

Fang Yuerong didn't say anything, didn't ask anything, and drank it all carefully.

Qin Jia also drank a bag and stuffed the package into her arms, along with the matches.

She whispered: "Mom, I want to go to the toilet."

"Go ahead and be careful." Fang Yuerong was not a fool. She understood what her daughter meant.

So I kept talking and didn't dare to say anything about going together, for fear of attracting attention. Qin Jia also felt strange about her unquestionable cooperation throughout the process. Could it be that she is an educated mother and has a higher level of acceptance?
  Fang Yuerong was not surprised at all that the drawn things turned into real objects!
  With questions in mind, Qin Jia quietly walked away and squatted behind a big rock, pretending to be convenient, but actually digging a small hole.

After digging, he lit the two bags with matches and then placed them in a small pit and buried them with yellow sand.

Thankfully, plastic bags drawn on paper turn into paper when burned.

So there’s no that bad smell of burning plastic.

After burning the packaging bag, she also drew a small piece of light black cloth.

There's no way, there's no paint, just this color.

The inkstone, ink ingots, and the small drawing book were wrapped in cloth, all wrapped around his waist.

Fortunately, the clothes in ancient times were bulky and concealed the body shape, so it was not obvious if it was wrapped around.

After everything was taken care of, she returned to lie down next to Fang Yuerong.

Neither mother nor daughter talked about it.

Although they were sleeping alone on the edge and could cover up with some small movements, the sound was not very good.

No matter how quiet you speak, someone with good hearing will inevitably hear you.

Qin Jia didn't mind Fang Yuerong knowing about the existence of the paintbrush, firstly because she was betting that her maternal love for the original person was not fake, secondly because she couldn't avoid it, and thirdly because it could help cover up one or two things.

Among the female prisoners, who else could she trust besides her mother?

Most parents in this world still love their children, but only a few will treat their children like enemies.

After all, tiger poison does not eat seeds.

***
  The next day, when the sky was still gray, the officers and soldiers waved their whips again.

There was still the familiar sound of driving away curses and the crackling sound of flesh being whipped.

After drinking some glucose last night, Qin Jia was in much better spirits today than yesterday.

As she walked, Fang Yuerong took out the leftover pancakes from last night from her pocket, tore them into pieces and handed them to her.

"Jiajia, eat something to fill your stomach. We won't have food until noon."

"I don't want it, mother, you can eat it, I'm not hungry yet."

Qin Jia refused. Although that kind of pancake was very difficult to eat, the portion was not large.

In the original memory, Fang Yuerong had to leave some of the pancakes he received every night to share with his two daughters for breakfast the next day.

It was obvious that she was just a delicate and elegant woman before she was exiled.

She quietly takes care of the housework, takes care of her husband and children, and embroiders in her spare time to support the family. It is difficult to even carry a bucket of water on weekdays.

Now, because of mother's love, she has become much stronger.

She protected her two daughters tightly, but in the end, she was still too weak.

When Qin Lin was taken away, they were locked in the woodshed of the inn and had no choice but to beg.

For this reason, Fang Yuerong was whipped several times.

However, because there were five families, the officers and soldiers did not stare at her and beat her alone, so she was not seriously injured.

"I'll just take two bites of the cushion, and you can eat the rest by yourself."

Qin Jia was in a nervous and excited mood last night, and she didn't think of drawing steamed buns or medicine for wounds.

After all, glucose is more convenient and more suitable for their current physical condition.

But tonight she had to draw a bottle of Yunnan Baiyao and bring it out.

The weather is so hot, if Fang Yuerong's wound is infected and has a fever, it will be troublesome.

Among the team, there were already people with inflamed wounds and high fevers.

However, even so, they still have to hurry...

Occasionally shake the god, and the whip will fall on him.

(End of this chapter)

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