In the afternoon, Mur Wan Ting went to the officials’ camp to work part-time as a cook, which freed up the original cook among the officers, Li Song.
“Compared to those big men, I’m already the best at cooking—I was just forced into it,” Li Song said.
He was relatively kind and helped Mur Wan Ting wash vegetables and cut meat. The actual cooking was left entirely to her, which greatly saved her time.
The officials had fairly complete seasonings, so Mur Wan Ting didn’t need to take anything out from her space.
She felt like eating braised pork, so she discussed it with Ma Da Zhuang. His eyes lit up and his Adam’s apple instinctively rolled as he eagerly agreed.
They got straight to work: heating oil, caramelizing sugar, adding neatly cut cubes of pork belly, then adding water to simmer.
Her movements were clean and efficient. Li Song watched in stunned silence, impressed by her control of heat and timing.
The exiled prisoners were already starving, and the rich sweet aroma made them keep glancing over repeatedly.
Some who couldn’t wait even lined up nearby.
As the serving cook, Mur Wan Ting was very efficient too—she didn’t skimp on meat or potatoes, and everyone ate happily.
Since they hadn’t eaten rice in a long time, she also cooked rice. Rice with braised pork was absolutely perfect.
A large bowl of rice cost 5 taels of silver, and a bowl of braised pork cost 30 taels.
She made twice the usual portion, and raised the prices slightly, but it was all sold out almost immediately after it was served.
The officers counted the 2,000 taels of silver in the box, smiling so widely they couldn’t close their mouths.
“Make more tomorrow! Everyone loves it!”
These prisoners were becoming smarter and more used to hardship, so squeezing money from them wasn’t easy.
They had to take advantage of the days Mur Wan Ting was here.
Mur Wan Ting didn’t bother cleaning up the pots and utensils—she was still waiting for her share of the money.
The other officers glanced at her but said nothing about the silver, and quietly spoke to Ma Da Zhuang.
“Boss, there’s no need to give her a cut. She’s just a prisoner.”
Ma Da Zhuang frowned. “We already agreed to it.”
Su Yu also said, “Exactly. Besides, Mur Shi’s food is genuinely good. Brothers, think long-term.”
Then he took 200 taels and handed it to Mur Wan Ting.
She accepted it, thanked him, and then sat with the third branch family to eat the food they had already set aside.
Shen’s mother smiled happily. “Although we earn less than before, at least we now have official protection, and we don’t have to worry about offending the officials and getting punished.”
Mur Wan Ting nodded. More importantly, she was building a long-term relationship with the officials, making it easy to join their supply runs next time.
They thought she cared about the money? No—she cared about the opportunity to join the supply purchases, so she could take things out more conveniently later.
Shen Xudong also got a bowl. He ate quickly, then licked the bowl and swallowed, his rough face full of longing.
“Is there more?”
Mur Wan Ting shook her head. “No more.”
Seeing his disappointed look, she pointed toward the first and second branches, who had tried to buy it but failed.
Now they were stuck with black buns and vegetable cakes, unable to eat.
“Compared to them, you’re already doing much better.”
Shen Xudong looked a bit reluctant, but he was also unable to help himself.
As a good “boss,” Mur Wan Ting applied the “drawing a big pie” technique taught by her mother.
“If you perform well, not only can you eat your fill, you can also get extra rewards.”
Shen Xudong’s eyes lit up. He was then instructed to massage Shen Xinglan. At first, his strength was poorly controlled, but under her guidance it became appropriate. Throughout, he thought only of braised pork and felt no impatience at all.
The medicine changes were done by Mur Wan Ting herself. Fortunately, despite the heat, Shen Xinglan’s wound showed no infection and was healing steadily.
As expected of her—if her mother saw this, she would probably praise her.
Next was acupuncture.
Regardless of whether surgery would be done later, Shen Xinglan needed at least half a month of acupuncture treatment. That way, recovery after surgery would be faster.
If she could find news of her mother during this time, that would be even better.
But for some reason, Shen Xinglan seemed low in spirits today.
No matter how she tried to talk to him, he remained cold and quiet.
Eventually she stopped talking and went to check on Shen Xinghe.
Just as she was about to lift Shen Xinghe’s trouser leg, Shen Xinglan grabbed her wrist.
“What are you doing? Men and women should keep proper distance!”
Mur Wan Ting raised an eyebrow. “When I was treating you just now, you didn’t care about propriety.”
Shen Xinglan’s eyes darkened. “It’s different. He’s my third brother.”
Mur Wan Ting said, “But I’m a doctor. I have to check his injuries, or he could have lifelong complications.”
Shen Xinglan pressed his lips together, then slowly let go.
Shen Xinghe recovered even faster. It was mostly superficial injuries; only the fractures needed rest. He hadn’t moved much that day, so he was fine.
His wounds had already healed well with the medicine she provided.
However, as she approached, he smelled that faint lemon-like scent again and couldn’t help remembering how she had carried him earlier.
She looked so small and slender, yet had silently carried him all the way there. He wasn’t unmoved by it.
He pulled the blanket over his head and muttered muffledly, “Mur Wan Ting… I… I can apply the medicine myself.”
He waited a long time for a response, but when he peeked out, she was already gone with Shen’s mother and the others gathering wild vegetables and herbs.
He felt a little angry.
If she was leaving, she should at least say something!
That night, everyone was sleeping soundly, helped by Mur Wan Ting’s mosquito repellent incense, so no one was bitten.
But Shen Xinglan suddenly felt a cool sensation on his face. He touched it—it was raining, and thunder and lightning filled the sky.
“It’s raining, find shelter quickly,” he said, pausing before adding, “Don’t go under trees.”
In thunderstorm weather, people could be struck by lightning under trees.
His low, magnetic voice woke the others one by one.
But Mur Wan Ting was still asleep, resting peacefully.
Zhao Lanpei went to shake her, but she didn’t respond.
Sighing, she said, “This child must be exhausted. Since arriving in exile, whenever others rest, she’s either cooking or treating Xinglan.”
Seeing that the men of the family were either injured or disabled, Shen Xingyi, the only adult male of the third branch, stepped forward and picked her up in his arms.
He carefully shielded her from the rain as he carried her.
Shen Xinglan and Shen Xinghe were moved by Shen Xudong to shelter under a protruding rock.
The rain came suddenly and showed no sign of stopping.
Shen Xingyi continued holding Mur Wan Ting.
She was so light—so hard to imagine such a small body contained so much strength, enough to carry the third branch this far.
He tightened his arms slightly around her.