He took a puff of his pipe, paused, then looked toward Liang the eldest’s family and asked,“Eldest son, will your family set up a separate stove like Chen’s family, or continue eating with the two of us old folks? If you continue eating together, you won’t need to provide the elder-support grain.”
“Father, we’ll eat together,” Madam Zhu hurriedly replied. “You and Mother should continue living with us—it’ll be easier to look after each other.”
She had already calculated it all.
If they continued cooking together with the elders, not only would they be exempt from contributing the two shi of grain, the elders could also help with farm work.
At year’s end, the money from selling pork would still be spent on her son Wenzhi.
Second Son and Third Son together would provide four shi of grain—about 480 jin.
The two elders didn’t eat much, so that amount was more than enough for a year.
Madam Zhu was extremely calculating.
No matter how she added it up, living together was the most advantageous choice.
“Good, good, good. Then the two of us old folks will continue living with the eldest branch,” Old Master Liang said with satisfaction, completely unaware of her hidden calculations and believing instead that his eldest daughter-in-law was filial.
“Second Son, where do you plan to build your house?” Old Master Liang asked next.
“Grandfather, let our new house be built by the three mu of land at the foot of the western mountain,” Qianhua spoke up before her father could answer. “There’s a large slope there that’s perfect for building.”
First, it was close to their fields, making farm work more convenient.
Second, it was far from the old homestead. Since they were splitting households, she wanted distance—who knew if Old Madam Liang might come meddling every few days otherwise.
Third, the land was elevated. A house built there would overlook the entire village.
She liked the feeling of standing high and seeing far.
Lastly, the open space there was huge.
Though they couldn’t afford a good house now, staking out the land early meant she could build a large courtyard later once they had money.
“Alright, we’ll do as Qianhua says,” Liang Second agreed, also thinking the slope was suitable.
“Village Head Hu, we’ll trouble you to allocate that plot at the western mountain foot to Second Son’s family and write up the land deed,” Old Master Liang said respectfully.
Village Head Hu nodded—this was his duty.
When adult men split households, the village head allocated land, wrote the deed, and submitted it to the county office for official stamping.
“Understood,” Hu replied.
“Clan elders and village head, thank you for coming today as witnesses,” Old Master Liang said, clasping his hands again. “When Second Son builds his house, I’ll have to trouble your sons and grandsons to come help.”
“Brother Liang, you’re too polite,” one clan elder replied. “We’ll certainly send people to help.”
The others nodded in agreement.
In Yunfeng Village, this was the custom.
When someone built a house, all the able-bodied villagers helped—no wages, just meals.
Today you helped one family; tomorrow they helped another.
Only brick-and-tile houses required paid masons.
But the village was poor—aside from the village head’s home, most lived in mud-wall tile houses, or even mud walls with thatched roofs.
Thatch houses were built with local materials—wood and bamboo from the mountains, mud dug together, and straw taken straight from the fields.
With enough hands, a thatched house could be finished in just over a week.
And so, under everyone’s witness, the large family was officially divided. The clan elders and village head soon rose to take their leave.
Old Master Liang invited them to stay for tea, but they declined, saying it was late and the roads were difficult.
He didn’t insist and instead instructed Liang the eldest, Wenyong, and Wenzhi to escort the older elders home.
The household slowly dispersed.
Back in their room, Liang Second said to Madam Liu, “Chunxiang, once we’re separated, life will probably be hard for you. With my leg injured, I can’t help in the fields. I really feel I’ve wronged you.”
“Jun-ge, don’t say that,” Madam Liu replied softly. “As long as I’m with you, I’m willing to endure any hardship. If anyone should apologize, it’s me—I’ve let you down all these years.”
“Father, don’t worry,” Qianhua said gently. “You still have me. I can help Mother with the work.”
“Qianhua, Father has also wronged you,” Liang Second said heavily. “You and your mother have suffered because of me. I know your grandparents are biased—especially your grandmother—but they’re my parents, and I couldn’t go against them. Now that we’re on our own, everything will rest on you two women. I truly feel ashamed.”
“Father, just focus on healing your leg,” Qianhua said firmly. “Mother and I aren’t afraid of hardship. Right, Mother?”
“Yes,” Madam Liu nodded. “As long as our family stays together, Mother isn’t suffering at all—not even a little.”
To Madam Liu, marrying a man like Liang Second was the greatest blessing of her life. There was no hardship she couldn’t overcome.
Qianhua felt deeply moved. Liang Second truly was a good husband and a good father.
He was filial, but not blindly so.
He and Madam Liu genuinely doted on the original Qianhua.
If they knew their daughter had already died and that she had taken over her body, they would surely be heartbroken.
She resolved to be careful, to never let anything slip.
She would live well in little Qianhua’s place and care for this couple as her own parents.
Since their house had not yet been built, the family of three continued eating and living at the old homestead for the next few days, waiting to move out once construction was complete.
Qianhua officially accepted her identity in this ancient world.
From now on, she was no longer “Qianhua” of the modern age—she was Liang Qianhua of Yunfeng Village, Qingxi County, Lingzhou.
She would cherish this hard-won second life.
With her sharp mind and diligent hands, she would gradually build wealth—one day becoming a carefree rich woman, buying a few maidservants to serve her, traveling the countryside to enjoy the untouched ancient scenery.
If, when she grew up, she found a man who truly loved her with all his heart, she would marry and have children.
If not, then she would simply find a handsome man she liked, have a child, and whether she married or not wouldn’t matter.
In her modern life, Qianhua had been a thirty-something, successful single woman.
She had dated several times, but every relationship ended in heartbreak.
One relationship began when she had just entered society and was struggling.
His family background was good, but his parents despised her lack of pedigree and a complete family.
They forcibly split the couple apart.
She had thought he was helpless—but he turned around and married a woman arranged by his family.
That first love shattered her heart and showed her the cold reality of men.
Later, when she became successful, several boyfriends flirted with other women—some even cheated and were caught red-handed.
She had zero tolerance for betrayal.
Even emotional infidelity meant immediate breakup.
To her, love was sacred and allowed no betrayal.
In modern times, even under monogamy, she couldn’t find a loyal man—laws couldn’t stop men from cheating.
So in this ancient world, where polygamy was legal, she didn’t expect any man to love only her for life.
But she loved children.
If she couldn’t find a devoted man, marriage didn’t matter.
What mattered was finding a handsome father for a beautiful child—then raising that child and thriving spectacularly in ancient times.
Just imagining such a life made her happy.
No fighting over men, no oppressive in-laws—just a free, wealthy, beautiful single mother living life on her own terms.
As a 21st-century college graduate, her knowledge surpassed that of ancient times.
Even casual modern knowledge could cause a stir here. She believed she could live well by applying what she knew.
However, reality soon struck her hard.
The extreme material scarcity of the ancient world shattered her rosy expectations—and she quickly realized that earning silver was not just important, but urgently necessary.