After digging up two more wild greens, Shen Song noticed someone behind them throwing things.
He had just stopped to look when a small stone smacked the back of Shen Sanqiu's head. Shen Sanqiu didn't react at all, his hands continuing their work, still digging wild greens.
The village children all disliked them; even at home, they would sometimes be pelted with stones or mud from outside.
Shen Sanqiu was used to it. If he fought back, they would throw harder and come back with more people. It was only a matter of hurting for a moment—endure it and it would pass. Nothing to it.
But the moment Shen Sanqiu was hit on the head, Shen Song rushed over, anxiously pulling him into his arms, shielding him from the stones while running his fingers through his hair to check whether the back of his head had been injured.
Shen Sanqiu hadn't reacted when the stone hit him, but the instant he was wrapped in that warm embrace, he froze completely.
"Good thing your head isn't broken. Does it still hurt, Sanqiu?"
Does it hurt…
Shen Sanqiu didn't know whether to nod or shake his head. It hurt when he was hit, but now he seemed to hurt and yet not hurt at the same time.
How could he ask whether it hurt? Shen Sanqiu's nose felt a little sour, and he rubbed it. Only when his hand moved did he realize his little uncle had been holding him the whole time, shielding him.
"Little Uncle, I'm fine. It doesn't hurt at all. Don't shield me—you might get hurt." Shen Sanqiu was a bit anxious. He had brought his little uncle out, terrified that something might happen to him, and that he wouldn't be able to explain it to the adults at home.
Once Shen Song confirmed Shen Sanqiu's head was fine, more small stones came flying, hitting him too.
He turned to look. Three children, five or six years old, were making faces at them, holding more stones ready to throw.
Shen Song picked up a stone from the ground and threw it back.
But the children ran too fast. He couldn't aim well, and they weren't the least bit afraid of his counterattack.
Having scattered only moments before, they gathered again, this time even closer, their mouths spewing words like bad luck and beating the God of Poverty.
As Shen Song listened, hazy images surfaced in his mind.
It seemed the villagers of Shenjiagou all disliked their family because they were too poor. They said the family carried a God of Poverty—that anyone who came near them would be tainted with bad luck.
Children are miniature versions of adults. If these children hated them this much, the villagers must dislike their family even more.
Shen Song now understood why Shen Sanqiu was unwilling to go where there were many people.
He patted Shen Sanqiu's head and blew on it gently. "It won't hurt anymore, Sanqiu."
With that, he rose to his feet and chased after the three children.
He left Shen Sanqiu staring blankly at his back, touching the head that had just been patted and blown on.
When he came to his senses, he shouted anxiously after Shen Song, telling him not to run, afraid he would go too far and disappear.
The three children ran off in terror, screaming wildly as they fled:
"The Shen family's simple-minded ge’er has gone mad!"
"Stay away from me! Aaaahhh!"
"Everybody run!!"
Shen Song, after all, had long legs. Not wanting to worry Shen Sanqiu, he quickly caught up with the three children, making sure he stayed within Shen Sanqiu's line of sight.
Shen Song gathered all three children into his arms. His strength gave out and he plopped down onto the ground, but his arms held the three of them in a death grip, refusing to let go.
The three children, expecting a beating from the simple-minded ge’er, had covered their heads early on—but the pain never came. Instead, they found themselves held in an embrace.
Their parents didn't even hold them much.
The boldest-looking of the children, with a face smudged like a little tabby cat, asked, "If you're not going to hit us, why are you holding us?"
Shen Song, panting with exhaustion, said, "My family doesn't have the God of Poverty."
He had come from the Interstellar Era and didn't believe in gods at all.
Everything was just energy.
By this place's understanding of gods, if his earth-element ability were still with him, wouldn't that make him a god of the land?
The three children, of course, didn't believe Shen Song.
"Everyone says your family has it. How could your family not have it? You're the simple-minded ge’er—you don't understand anything."
Seeing how firmly they believed it, Shen Song didn't bother arguing. Instead, he nodded and said, with great seriousness, "I wasn't holding you. I was transferring the God of Poverty's power to you. Passing my family's poverty power into your bodies."
The three children were dumbstruck.
How could this person be so evil! Transferring poverty power to them!
They struggled with all their might, wailing nonstop, scared out of their wits.
Shen Song couldn't hold them down anymore, so he simply let go.
The three children tumbled all over the ground, then scrambled away, crawling and running.
That evening, three families from Shenjiagou went out searching for their children.
They thought the kids had been snatched by child abductors, but it turned out the three children were hiding behind the big rock at the village entrance, refusing to go home no matter what. They insisted that the simple-minded ge’er had transferred the God of Poverty's power into them, and that if they went home, their families would become as poor as the simple-minded ge’er's family.
The three adults exchanged glances, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
They said the Shen family was bad luck, that the Shen family had a God of Poverty, and refused to have anything to do with them—indeed because their family was simply too poor.
No one's life was easy. If a poor family like that came to borrow things, it was borrowing without ever returning.
Once or twice was fine, but what about after that?
They had lent to them in earlier years, and who knew—the Shen family's days only got worse and worse.
After that, they simply cut off contact, keeping their distance so the Shens wouldn't come borrowing from them again.
But no matter what the adults said, the three children stubbornly stuck to their story: there was a God of Poverty, and they couldn't go home.
The adults were so furious they resorted to force—giving them a beating and dragging them home.
Meanwhile, at the Shen household, Shen Song sat with his four nephews and nieces on a rock in the courtyard, watching Shen Sanqiu bustle about like a little bee.
One moment clearing wild greens, the next cooking.
He did help clear the wild greens, but he was too slow—Shen Sanqiu finished everything before he was done, and in the end Shen Sanqiu did it all anyway.
The Shen household wasn't big: just one thatched hut and one small grass shed, with nothing raised in the courtyard.
Even so, it took Shen Sanqiu a whole day of work to get the inside and outside of the house clean.
Shen Song couldn't help—he only made Shen Sanqiu busier. So he sat on the rock, keeping an eye on the four little ones so they wouldn't run off.
Just then he needed to relieve himself. He told Wuxi and Siping to watch their younger siblings, and followed his memory to the latrine pit behind the thatched hut.
The moment he stepped in, the stench drove him right back out. Shen Song wanted to cry but had no tears.
The bathrooms he used to use were clean and spacious, odorless, without a speck of dirt.
But now, two rickety planks were laid across the pit. When a person squatted down, they took up most of the space, and the large vat buried below was full of filth.
As the weather warmed, it would only become more unbearable.
After finishing his business through tears, Shen Song suddenly remembered—there were only toilet sticks here.
Shen Song held in his hand the single toilet stick in the latrine pit—really just a small bamboo slat.
He wept silently, and crying, used it just as he remembered doing.
After leaving the latrine, Shen Song went to wash his hands, already numb from crying.
Even the water for washing hands wasn't clean—it had been in use since morning.
To get water here, you had to go to the well in the middle of the village, or down to the river at the foot of the mountain.
To save water, the water in the wooden basin was kept for the family to wash their hands and faces when they came back from the fields. Only after it had been completely used up could it be dumped out.
Once they planted vegetables in the yard, that water would go straight onto the plants.
They had to economize on water—Shen Sanqiu was too small to carry it, Shen Song had been a dazed fool before and couldn't carry it either, and the adults were too busy working in the fields to haul water every day.
After using the outhouse, Shen Song no longer felt there was anything wrong with the water.
He truly felt they were too poor. He wanted to make money, to get rich.
At the very least, they should be able to fill their stomachs, sleep comfortably lying flat, and have a slightly better outhouse.
But how could he make money?
Shen Song thought it over. He wanted to learn from his grandfather in his previous life.
Get rich through good food!
His grandfather had been a top Astral Chef of the Interstellar Era. Judging from his memories, what the Shen family ate was worse than even the Interstellar Era's food.
Maybe part of it was because the Shens were poor, but it couldn't all be because of that.
He had awakened an earth-element ability, one the family needed, so his grandfather had given him two recipes, plus two formulas for seasonings, as a reward.
But the family simply had too many talented people. He wasn't particularly outstanding among them—he could only be said to be hovering around the passing line.
So he'd received few recipes, just those few, and they weren't even exclusive—many people in the family had them too.
Back then, Shen Song had chosen the most popular dishes of the Interstellar Era, ones even commoners could afford: tomato scrambled eggs and meat buns.
Because so many people wanted them, supply never met demand—which showed just how delicious those two dishes were.
If he made them and sold them here, they'd surely be popular too. Even if he couldn't earn much, at least they could eat their fill.
The more Shen Song thought about it, the more feasible it seemed. He had the recipes memorized; all that was left was to ask whether the ingredients he needed existed here.
He would definitely use his Astral Chef skills to lead his family in this life to full stomachs!
Full of confidence, Shen Song dried his hands and asked Shen Sanqiu, "Good nephew, let me ask you something."
"Go ahead, Uncle." Shen Sanqiu was tending the earthen stove in the shed. Judging that the timing was about right, he began letting the fire die down.
Shen Song thought for a moment, then described it: "Is there anything here that's round, red, and tastes sweet and sour? The kind you can cook with."
Shen Sanqiu smiled and said there was.
He liked Shen Song a lot now, and his voice couldn't help turning gentler when talking to him. "You mean the tomatoes that came from foreign lands, right? I've seen some families in the village grow them. But the seeds are a bit pricey, so our family never buys tomato seeds to plant."
Shen Song nodded repeatedly. So that was the name here—he hadn't expected them to actually exist.
But before he could get happy, Shen Sanqiu said, "That kid who got scared off today, the one called Hutou—his family grows them. Last year he even bragged to me, saying his Father makes tomato scrambled eggs that's especially delicious. I've never had it, can't even imagine it—no idea if it's good."
Shen Song's smile vanished. They already had tomato scrambled eggs here.
And it seemed like quite a lot of people knew how to make it.
Shen Song thought of something and asked, "Then Sanqiu, do you know if anyone here can make meat buns?"
"Yes, lots of people know how to make them. My Father can make them, but he's never made them at home, so it's normal that you haven't had any, Little Uncle. I only know my Father can make them."
"There's even a stall in town that sells nothing but baozi. I went to town with my Little Father once to deliver some of our homegrown vegetables to Eldest Uncle, and I saw the baozi stall there. The meat baozi cost three wen apiece. So expensive—I've only ever looked, never tasted. But they smelled amazing, made with white flour mixed in. I've never even eaten white flour before."
Shen Sanqiu explained in such detail that Shen Song found it hard to feel happy. In fact, he had a bad premonition. "Is there also sesame oil and soy sauce?"
With trepidation, Shen Song watched Shen Sanqiu nod and say there was.
"But sesame oil is something we can't afford—that's for wealthy families. Not only do they cook with it, they even make sesame oil lamps to honor the gods. As for soy sauce, our family's never bought it either. With salt, that's enough."
"Little Uncle, why are you suddenly asking about all this? Did someone say something to you?" Shen Sanqiu asked, a little puzzled.
Shen Song shook his head, then stared blankly at the sky, letting the beautiful scenery ease the disappointment in his heart.
It seemed he would never get rich after all.
Seeing Shen Song lost in a daze again, Shen Sanqiu said nothing more. He ladled out the boiled wild greens from the pot, let them cool a little, and waited for the family to come home and eat.
The rest of the Shen family returned from the fields. The old couple, walking at the front, had no sooner entered the gate than they saw Shen Song gazing up at the sky in a daze.
The old couple exchanged a glance, full of helplessness.
Hearing the commotion, Shen Song immediately came back to his senses and stood up, cheerfully calling out to his Father and mom.
Hearing noise from the thatched hut, he hurried over to help his eldest brother Shen Jing carry the table out of the house, and even helped set out the stools.
The old couple were washing their hands—wash them they must, for they were covered in mud.
Some of the mud had seeped deep into their skin and couldn't be removed, so they could only wash off what was on the surface.
They had been worried when they came back and saw Shen Song looking dazed again. Yet in just the time it took to wash their hands, the boy had gone off to help carry the table.
Nothing like this had ever happened before.
They felt that their family's Xiao Ba was getting sharper in the head by the day.
Dinner was boiled wild greens again, and this time Shen Song didn't eat until he vomited.
There was also a noticeably larger portion of wild greens today—everyone in the Shen family could see it.
Zhou Gu, Shen Sanqiu's father, spoke up before Mother-in-law could. "Qiu-ge’er, how come you didn't hold back when you cooked today? You made so many wild greens. Once we eat this meal, there won't be any left for the next."
Zhou Gu wasn't really blaming their ge’er—he just wanted to speak first so that Mother-in-law wouldn't have much more to say.
Seeing all those wild greens, Liu Chunxia was indeed somewhat displeased.
The family's food was carefully measured and strictly portioned out; Shen Sanqiu was supposed to cook according to the allotted amounts.
Now the portions had grown. This one meal would be filling, but afterward there'd be nothing left, and they'd have to drag their exhausted bodies out to dig for more wild greens.
If they went late, there'd be no good wild greens left to dig up; it would be dark and hard to see, and accidents could easily happen.
Still, the boy had to cook, clean the house, and keep watch over someone—Liu Chunxia knew Shen Sanqiu didn't have it easy either.
She sighed. "All right, Gu-ge’er, that's enough. After we finish eating, we'll go dig up some more."
Eldest sister-in-law Xu Hongmei, who had been busy eating, let out an "ah," clearly reluctant. "Aiyo, Mom! Even an old ox that's worked all day gets to rest. I'm more worn out than an old ox—I never get a moment's rest!"
Liu Chunxia snorted, "If you're not going, then are you eating or not?"
Shen Sanqiu, listening to the talk at the dinner table, couldn't get a word in to explain.
Across the table, Xu Hongmei was left speechless by the retort, and she instinctively glanced at her brother-in-law.
She thought to herself—this was a sixteen-year-old, while her own Yi'an and Erkang were only twelve and ten, and because they were boys, they already followed along to work in the fields.
Sanqiu was a ge’er, and at ten years old he already managed the household affairs.
Sixteen-year-old ge’er in other families were already married off, yet her own sixteen-year-old brother-in-law was not only still staying at home, he wasn't even able to lend a hand with the work like Qiu-ge’er did, to help lighten the family's burden.
He lay around and slept all day, did nothing at all, and still got to eat a meal in the evening.
If you said he was simple-minded, he didn't seem truly feeble-minded.
But if you said he wasn't, then he knew nothing—just staring blankly all day, eating, drinking, and sleeping.
It wasn't that they would stop feeding him and let him starve to death. It was just that for a family like theirs, how could they afford to support an idle mouth? They simply couldn't afford it.
Her glance carried hidden resentment, though she didn't dare make it obvious—afraid of displeasing her parents-in-law, and afraid of displeasing her own husband too.
Xu Hongmei knew full well in her heart that in the end, it was all because of poverty.
Shen Song sensed someone looking at him, and when he raised his head, his eyes met Xu Hongmei's.
Xu Hongmei instinctively gave a quick smile, swiftly covering up the dissatisfaction in her heart.
Shen Song blinked, and smiled back at Xu Hongmei.
He said, "Mother, Sister-in-law, you don't need to work so hard digging wild greens so late. The reason Sanqiu made so much today is that we went out during the day and dug up two baskets to bring back. Sanqiu worked hard cooking, and you all worked hard too."
Apart from Shen Sanqiu and the four children, everyone in the Shen family looked at Shen Song in astonishment.
Who would have thought that this ge’er, who rarely spoke and was always staring blankly with no expression, could now say so much in one go—not only knowing how to care for people, but even going out to dig wild greens!
Xu Hongmei was also very surprised—she hadn't expected Shen Song to be able to help with work now. She smiled again, and this time it was much more sincere.
Liu Chunxia felt more and more that her ge’er had become clear-headed, completely different from his former dazed self.
She said happily, "Good, good, good! Song-ge’er is capable now, he even knows to help out with things at home."
Shen Song thought to himself that doing chores wasn't hard at all—what was hard was figuring out how to get rich.
Because of Shen Song's improved state, the Shen family was in high spirits today, especially the two Shen elders.
They had always worried about how Song-ge’er would survive in the future. Now it seemed his condition was getting better and better, so there was no need to worry so much.
Because of the extra wild greens, Shen Song finally felt somewhat full after finishing this meal.
He helped Shen Sanqiu clear the dishes and bowls, not wanting Shen Sanqiu to busy himself alone. The Shen family took in all of Shen Song's changes with great gratification.
No one in the Shen family was idle—some were sharpening farm tools, some repairing farm tools, some mending clothes.
After Shen Song finished clearing the dishes, he squatted down next to the eldest Shen brother, Shen Jing.
Shen Jing was fastening the head onto a hoe. Seeing Shen Song come over, he assumed he was curious about the hoe, and the honest, good-natured man gave a smile, "Xiao Ba want to take a look?"
Shen Song was indeed curious. He stared at it for a good while, his eyes sparkling as if he were looking at some treasure. Not only did he look, he even praised it, "Big Brother, how are you so amazing? You even know how to fix something like this."
Seeing his younger brother speak with such earnestness—truly, genuinely believing he was amazing—Shen Jing felt that his brother truly thought he was remarkable for being able to fix the hoe.
At Shen Song's words, the honest man actually blushed. "It's not as impressive as you make it sound. It's just farmer's work—little tricks anyone can do."
Shen Song didn't see it that way. He thought Shen Jing was incredibly capable.
"By the way, big brother, you used to go carry loads in the county town during the farming off-season. What's the county town like? Are there lots of delicious things to eat? Those places where you can pay to eat a meal—what kinds of dishes do they have? Do you know?"
Shen Song had come over precisely to scope out the cuisine of this dynasty, to see what level it was at and whether his skills still had any room to be put to use.
Shen Jing assumed Shen Song was just curious. After thinking for a moment, he said, "There are plenty of restaurants and taverns in the county town, and even more food stalls. Our Lanxi County has a wharf with canal shipping, so compared to other counties we're a bit better off. There are lots of merchants coming and going, so the county has a great variety of dishes. Food from all over—north, south, east, and west. Big brother hasn't eaten much of it, but I've heard plenty from the people at the wharf."
"There are restaurants that specialize in spicy dishes, some that specialize in stews, and others that specialize in stir-fries. Some of the famous dishes are spicy diced rabbit, boiled pork slices, sour cabbage fish, twice-cooked pork, tomato scrambled eggs, sautéed potato, eggplant and pepper, mapo tofu, braised lion's head meatballs, fish head with chopped chili, Dong'an chicken, steamed cured meats, Longjing shrimp, white-cut chicken, beggar's chicken, drunken spare ribs…"
Shen Song was dumbfounded.
Some of these dishes he'd heard of; others he'd never even heard the names of.
And Shen Jing went on, "That's only a little of what I remember—there are so, so many more that I didn't take note of. The food stalls have all kinds of things too—plenty of vendors selling baked flatbread, dumplings, wontons, and noodles."
From Shen Jing's words, Shen Song clearly confirmed that in this place called the Zhou Dynasty, the food and restaurant industry was several times more developed than in the Interstellar Era. There was simply no place for him there.
He also confirmed that the reason the Shen family ate worse than even the Interstellar Era's food desert was truly just because the Shen family was too poor.
The plan to get rich by making delicious food: dead.
Shen Song lay on the bed board, thinking all night about how to get rich.
He thought and thought, but couldn't come up with anything.
He couldn't cook, so there was no way to get rich that way.
Besides, here, for a farming family to eat their fill, they first had to farm the land.
To save money, they'd sell grain after the harvest.
Shen Song really couldn't think of any other way to get rich and eat his fill. He remembered that in the Interstellar Era he had also worked with the land—so couldn't he farm here too?
It was just field work. How hard could it be!
The next day, Shen Song got up very early. Outside, the sky was still dark, but the Shen family was already preparing to go work the fields.
Shen Song caught up with them and said he wanted to help with the farming.
Once the fields were planted quickly, he could also follow his big brother and the others to the county town or the market town to look for work.
Shen Song refused to believe that he couldn't get rich and eat his fill!