Yu Chun held the string of coins in her hands, grinning from ear to ear. This was the first honest wage she had earned in this world—one hundred wen.
This time, she didn’t bring the children. In her cleaned backpack were ten full sets of clothing—worth two hundred wen. At her current speed, she could finish them in three days.
But the steward had told her this batch of orders would soon be completed. Next time, she should bring more deposit and take a larger batch at once—this might be the last round.
She wanted to—but she had no money. She said so honestly.
The steward came up with a compromise: next time she could bring her house deed as collateral, and he would approve two hundred sets for her.
If she worked overtime, she could sew eight sets a day—earning one hundred sixty wen. As long as her mother cooked simple porridge, it was manageable. The steward even suggested she could send finished goods daily to the shop, avoiding delivery risks and maintaining workflow.
Yu Chun thought it over. It made sense.
She trusted the shop.
And with that golden peanut her daughter had received before, she felt reassured.
What mattered most was that work was running out. There were so many people lining up today. The steward even said she had been targeted because others were jealous.
“You all think I can’t do it? I’ll prove you wrong—I’ll do as much as I can!”
She was full of energy.
Two hundred ten sets meant four thousand two hundred wen.
Converted, that was over twenty-five thousand in her old world.
With food and a house secured, this was the best preparation she could make in these chaotic, warlike times.
Baoyu: Shouldn’t we remind her about safety?
Feng: Let her suffer a bit first.
Daiyu: She’s smart—but too easily deceived.
Baochai: No. She’s just used to enduring losses.
Yu Chun couldn’t hear them.
To her, today’s struggles were as ordinary as eating and drinking.
Without this numb resilience, she would have broken down long ago.
No future meant nothing.
As for scorn, schemes, insults—
She was used to it.
Living—living well—and ensuring those she cared about could live well too.
That was enough.
She didn’t go home immediately. Instead, she sat beneath a large willow tree as the sun set, orange light washing over her face.
She held a box of pastries—delicate, lotus-shaped treats—and ate them one by one, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.
“I live like a dog… but I’ll keep working hard. I’m not weak. I’ll make good money!”
“Back already, Chun?”
It was her neighbor—a beautiful woman who rented the first courtyard in the alley. She made a living singing funeral laments.
“Just got back? Business good today? Want some pastries? I met a noble person—they gave these!”
The woman was surprised, then smiled warmly.
“This is rare—made with butter and cheese. Even the famous pastry shop doesn’t have this flavor. You really met someone important.”
“Mm-hmm!” Yu Chun beamed.
Her smile was like a clear spring sky—bright, pure, driving away gloom.
“Take this for your kids,” the neighbor said, handing her flatbread.
“Thank you!”
Yu Chun carried her load home.
“I’m back!” she called.
Instead of cheerful children, she heard crying.
“Mom, I thought you weren’t coming back!”
The children were dirty and tearful.
Her mother stood nearby, also on the verge of tears.
The three of them cried together for a long while.
Seeing nothing serious, Yu Chun smiled, carefully setting down the clothes.
She took out six boxes of pastries—each containing sixteen pieces, all different shapes and flavors.
Even cream puffs.
She marveled again at whoever had introduced such things to this world.
“Come, Cao Rong—pick what you like. Eat these first—they won’t keep.”
“So many! Mom, you made a fortune!”
“Look!” She placed her coins on the table. “This is today’s earnings. Enough for half a month before. I’ll keep working hard—we’ll earn more together!”
“Mom is amazing!” Cao Rong puffed out his chest. “I’ll earn money too when I grow up!”
He felt safe.
“Let them refuse to share—we have our own!”
“Yes. We’ll have bread, and milk too.”
Yu Chun made a quiet vow.
This was only the beginning.