“Yiyi, building a house by the mountain isn’t suitable. When it rains heavily, water rushes down from the slopes and could flood the house.
It’s better to find a slightly elevated spot on the edge of the village and buy a plot there to build a few rooms,” Grandma Wang said.
“Alright, Grandma. I’ll go see the village chief tomorrow. Here—take this one hundred taels in banknotes. It’s always reassuring to have money on hand!”
“Yiyi, Grandma doesn’t need to spend money. You still have to build the house. I won’t have anything to spend it on. You’ll need money in many places.”
“I kept enough for myself. Just take it. If one day I don’t come back in time and you need to buy something, you can go directly.”
Grandma had never seen a banknote before. She was secretly overjoyed.
After dinner, Yiyi began washing the pig intestines.
“Why does it smell so bad? Can this even be eaten?” Grandma asked, pinching her nose.
Yiyi grabbed another handful of flour and tossed it into the basin.
“Grandma, it smells bad raw, but once cooked it’s delicious. I’ll make it for you—you’ll definitely say it’s good!”
…
Early the next morning, Feng Yiyi went to the village chief’s house.
The chief smiled warmly when he saw her. “Yiyi girl, you’re here! What brings you?”
“Uncle Zhao, I want to discuss something. Is there any land for sale near the village?
Our two thatched rooms are barely standing—one strong gust could blow them away.
It’s not too cold yet, so I’d like to buy a plot and build a few rooms. Do you know of any suitable place?”
“There happens to be a plot on the east side of the village.
It belonged to Old Man Zhang, but his family moved to town and wants to sell it.”
Yiyi’s face lit up. “Uncle Zhao, how much is it?”
The village chief took a puff from his pipe.
“That plot, plus twenty mu of adjoining farmland, is priced at sixty taels. It’s been considered too expensive, so no one in the village has bought it.”
“I’ll take it,” Yiyi said without hesitation. “Please help me handle the paperwork in town. Here are seventy taels.”
“Girl, that’s too much. Five taels is enough for the transfer fees.”
“Keep the rest for some wine, Uncle Zhao. I’ll need your help often in the future.”
“Well then,” he chuckled, “I was heading to town anyway. I’ll bring Old Man Zhang along and settle this. I’ll return with the papers this afternoon.”
“Thank you, Uncle Zhao. I appreciate the trouble.”
In this village, five taels could support a family for nearly a year. But Yiyi understood that maintaining good relations mattered more than saving a little silver.
True to his word, by afternoon the chief returned with the deed.
“Thank you, Uncle Zhao. Do you know any good builders?” she asked.
“You’ve asked the right person! My eldest son, Zhao Dagang, has been working in town for years building houses for wealthy families. He knows everything. I’ll have him come tomorrow.”
“Wonderful! I’ll draw up a blueprint for them to follow.”
That night, Yiyi stayed up sketching. She planned a ten-room house—one for herself, one for Grandma, one for her future child.
If she had twins, one room wouldn’t be enough. She might hire servants someday. Better to build bigger now.
First secure a home—then she could truly expand her ambitions.
The next day, Zhao Dagang brought several workers to the eastern plot.
One elderly craftsman stared at her blueprint in astonishment. “Little girl, did you draw this?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve built houses for decades—from officials to commoners. I’ve never seen such an ingenious design. When it’s finished, could you give me this drawing?”
“Of course.”
They discussed details. Because her current house was unsafe, Yiyi urged them to begin digging the foundation immediately.
Since she and her grandmother couldn’t manage labor, she offered wages.
“Fifteen copper coins per person per day. No lunch provided. Brother Zhao will record the work and pay daily. I’ll settle accounts with him.”
“Fifteen coins! That’s nearly half a sack of rice. People will rush to work,” Zhao Dagang said.
“We can’t host meals anyway. Paying more saves trouble.”
He nodded. “Leave it to me.”
Word spread quickly—Feng Yiyi was building a house. Even the gossiping women who once mocked her now tried to curry favor.
After several days, the foundation was finished. They discussed materials.
“I don’t know where to buy anything,” Yiyi admitted. “Let’s do full contract—labor and materials included.”
Seeing her trust, Zhao Dagang promised, “I’ll use only the best materials.”
As construction progressed, Yiyi began thinking about windows. Everyone else used paper-covered frames. She refused.
Did this era have glass? Strictly speaking, it would be called glazed glass.
She approached Zhao Dagang. “Is there a place that produces glazed glass panels—for windows?”
“There is, but it’s expensive. Only wealthy families use glazed windows.”
“Then tomorrow, let’s visit the glass workshop. I want all the windows fitted with glazed panels.”
The next day, they rode an ox cart to the county’s glass workshop.
The owner greeted them warmly. “What kind of glazed glass does the honored guest need?”
“For a new house. Transparent, good lighting.”
“I’ll send someone tomorrow to measure. Since Zhao Dagang brought you, I’ll give the lowest price. And once finished, I’ll deliver the goods myself.”
Satisfied, Yiyi paid a ten-tael deposit.
By sunset, they were back at the village entrance.
“Brother Zhao, I’ll get off here. I’ll leave the house in your care.”
“Let me drive you home,” he offered shyly.
“No need. I’m almost there. Thank you.”
As she walked halfway home, someone approached from the opposite direction.
He wore dark blue coarse cloth. Compared to the sun-darkened farmers, he looked pale and slender—like a frail scholar.
“Yiyi? Yiyi?”