Xu Qinghe found a stone in the front yard, returned to the pit latrine, and dropped it into the hole.
Thunk.
It hit something solid.
After an entire winter, the waste inside had completely frozen.
There was no way to deal with it now. She would have to wait until the rains came or until the weather warmed after the Awakening of Insects.
Stepping out of the latrine, Xu Qinghe let out a sigh of relief.
She turned her attention to the chicken coop.
It, too, was built from mud walls and straw. Small, shabby, and messy, the straw on top had been blown into disarray by the wind. Inside, the bedding was covered with chicken droppings, feathers, and a few traces of dried blood.
The old hen that once lived there had been slaughtered when the original owner’s mother fell ill.
Back then, the original owner had believed that a bowl of chicken soup would help her mother recover.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
Xu Qinghe pressed the straw roof back into place, removed the filthy bedding, cleaned out the droppings and feathers, and made the coop more comfortable.
After finishing, she sprinkled some Stemona powder over herself again.
When the weather warmed and the villagers went to the county town to buy piglets, she planned to buy another hen as well.
Eggs were one of the most important sources of income for ordinary families.
Although she neither lacked eggs nor needed the money, she still had to keep up appearances.
Once she had a general understanding of the backyard, Xu Qinghe didn’t hurry to inspect the front yard.
Compared to the front yard, which faced the other villagers’ homes, the backyard offered much more privacy.
After looking around to make sure no one was nearby, she discreetly took a simple sundial out of her space beneath the cover of her clothing.
She had bought it online before transmigrating.
It was a traditional tool used in ancient times to tell the time.
Setting it on the ground, she watched as the sunlight cast a shadow across the markings.
The position of the shadow indicated the approximate time.
The sundial showed that it was just after ten o’clock.
After noting the time, she quickly stored it away and returned to the house.
She adjusted the clock on her phone to ten o’clock.
The sundial couldn’t determine the exact minutes, so she simply estimated.
She also changed the date setting.
Since the Beginning of Spring had only recently passed, it should be around early February.
The exact date might be off by a few days, but it was better than nothing.
After putting away her phone, she headed to the front yard.
The front yard wasn’t large—just over twenty square meters.
Along one side was a small vegetable patch.
The soil had become severely compacted. Planting vegetables there in spring would be difficult unless it was loosened.
She took a look at the woodshed as well.
It was only five or six square meters in size and, like the latrine, had been built against the earthen courtyard wall.
Three sides were made of mud walls, while the fourth was covered with a straw mat.
Inside were only a few bundles of dry straw and some farming tools.
After circling the house several times, Xu Qinghe had a clear picture of her situation.
The latrine needed to be cleaned, and she would have to find some way to control the odor. Otherwise, it would attract flies and insects in summer.
The vegetable patch needed to be turned over before planting season.
Several cracks had appeared in the outer walls of the mud house.
Large sections of the thatched roof needed patching.
Otherwise, she would spend another winter freezing.
Xu Qinghe took out her notebook and added these tasks to her list, along with pasting paper over the windows and buying a hen.
Once she finished writing, she put away the notebook and took out the farming tools.
Repairing tools after winter and preparing for the coming year was something every household did.
The sickle had become dull.
The hoe and rake had loosened.
Following the original owner’s memories, Xu Qinghe did her best to repair them.
However, relying only on inherited memories, her work was merely passable.
Even so, looking at the repaired hoe filled her with a sense of accomplishment.
She planned to use it after lunch to turn over the vegetable patch.
Setting the tools aside, Xu Qinghe washed her hands and took out two baskets of soup dumplings, a plate of stir-fried bean sprouts, and a small bowl of rice porridge from her space.
As always, it was a light, nutritious, and easy-to-digest meal.
Once this body recovered a little more, she intended to take deworming medicine to eliminate the parasites in her system.
There wasn’t the slightest trace of color beneath her eyelids.
There were undoubtedly plenty of parasites living inside her.
After eating, she rested briefly before shouldering the hoe and heading outside.
The afternoon temperature was slightly warmer, though the wind continued to blow.
The thatch on the roof rustled constantly.
The sky was high and overcast, creating a bleak atmosphere.
She spat twice into her palms, gripped the hoe tightly, and swung it down with all her strength.
The impact sent a painful jolt through her hands.
Only then did she remember.
The Beginning of Spring had only just passed.
The ground hadn’t thawed yet.
Her hoe strike left only a shallow mark in the soil.
The deeper layers remained frozen solid.
Her hands were numb from both the vibration and the cold.
The enthusiasm for her imagined pastoral life instantly faded.
As expected, that idyllic countryside existence existed only in fantasies.
Sighing, she didn’t give up.
Even though the ground was hard, she continued swinging the hoe again and again.
Since she had come to this era, she needed to adapt to it as much as possible.
She might have advantages and a safety net, but she still had to learn how to survive here.
It took her more than an hour to barely turn over the small vegetable patch.
Large clumps of compacted soil still needed to be broken apart one by one, and the furrows weren’t nearly deep enough.
Catching her breath, she thought about the ten mu of farmland she owned and immediately felt a headache coming on.
There were certainly many villagers eyeing those fields.
Some would likely offer to “help” her farm them.
Others might simply try to take them by force.
No matter which approach they chose, it would be difficult for her to protect the land.
It wasn’t that she cared deeply about the fields themselves.
She simply didn’t want to establish a reputation as someone easy to bully.
If she did, trouble would never stop coming.
As she worried over this problem, she suddenly heard someone calling from nearby.
Turning around, she saw a middle-aged woman waving as she walked toward her.
After a brief moment of surprise, Xu Qinghe quickly remembered who she was.
It was Aunt Liu, a neighbor who had been on good terms with the original owner’s family.