The shopkeeper’s words still echoed through the entrance hall of Jishitang:
“Go, find out which village this father and daughter are from. That little girl… there’s likely an extraordinary divine physician behind her.”
By the time the voice faded, Chen Zui had already dragged her somewhat dazed father into the bustling market.
Chen Laosan kept one hand tightly pressed against his chest, where the eighty taels of silver lay hidden. It felt hot—almost burning—making him anxious. Every few steps, he turned his head to look behind him, afraid someone was following.
“Father, stop looking. The more you look, the more you look like a thief,” Chen Zui said, patting his tense thigh. “Money only counts when it’s spent. That’s what makes it real.”
“Spent? How do we spend it?” Chen Laosan swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “This is enough to build three big brick houses… we should save it…”
“Save it so the old household can take it from us?” Chen Zui’s single sentence was like a splash of cold water.
Chen Laosan immediately thought of yesterday’s greedy relatives. His eyes hardened.
Right. If they saved it, it would only invite disaster. Better to turn it into grain and goods—things that could be eaten or worn. No one could steal that.
And so, father and daughter began their “shopping spree.”
At the grain and oil shop, Chen Laosan originally just wanted to buy some cheap rice. But Chen Zui directly pointed at the best white flour and polished rice.
“Boss, one hundred jin of white flour, one hundred jin of rice, and that barrel of the best rapeseed oil.”
Chen Laosan’s hand shook so badly he almost knelt on the spot. But seeing his daughter’s firm gaze, he gritted his teeth and paid.
At the butcher’s stall, Chen Zui didn’t choose lean meat. She specifically picked thick slabs of fatty pork.
“Ten jin of pork fat. We’ll render lard at home. And two pork hocks—for Father’s health.”
At the fabric shop, she ran her hand over soft cotton and thick batting.
“Two sets of winter clothes per person. Ten-jin quilts. Replace all the old black-hearted cotton at home.”
Finally, she stopped in front of a bookshop.
“Father, I want to buy paper and brushes.”
Chen Laosan froze. For farmers who lived with their backs to the soil, these things belonged to scholars—expensive beyond imagination.
“Big Sister needs recipes. Second Sister needs patterns. I need to learn to read,” Chen Zui said firmly. “We’re no longer peasants stuck in the mud. My sisters will study and have futures.”
Looking into his daughter’s bright, almost frightening eyes, Chen Laosan somehow nodded.
He went inside with trembling hands and spent five taels of silver on the most basic writing set and a few beginner primers like the Three Character Classic.
There were too many purchases to carry. In the end, he spent fifty copper coins to hire a covered ox cart.
As the sun tilted westward, golden light spilled across the rural road.
A heavily loaded ox cart creaked into Qing Shui Village.
It was the time villagers were returning from the fields. The cart driver cracked his whip, and the cart rolled slowly through the crowd.
“Whose relatives are those? Such a big show?”
“Looks like they’re delivering goods for some landlord…”
People stopped and stretched their necks to look.
The curtain lifted slightly in the wind, revealing Chen Laosan and Chen Zui sitting among sacks of grain and piles of meat. Chen Laosan was holding bright new cotton cloth, his face flushed with a mix of exhaustion and pride.
A gasp rang out.
“That’s… Chen Laosan?!”
Wang Auntie’s hoe dropped onto her foot. “Heavens! That’s white flour! And that huge slab of pork!”
“Didn’t he just get kicked out with nothing?”
The village erupted in noise.
Chen Laosan, hearing the shocked voices, had never sat so straight in his life. Once the most downtrodden man in the village, today he felt like a returning imperial official.
The cart passed right by the old Chen household gate.
Old Man Chen and Old Madam Chen were squatting at the entrance drinking thin rice porridge. Inside, the eldest branch was still arguing over yesterday’s missed meat.
When they saw the cart, they rushed out.
The moment they saw the full load of goods—white rice and flour, bright red pork, and Chen Laosan’s “newly rich” demeanor—their eyes turned red.
Not just red with anger, but bleeding with envy.
“That… that’s ours!” Chen Daba roared and tried to rush forward, “That’s my meat!”
Chen Zui sat on the cart shaft, looking down at him calmly. She casually lifted a stone inkstone—the kind used for grinding ink. Heavy.
She said nothing, only raised it slightly as if about to smash it.
Chen Daba froze instantly. He remembered the mud pit from yesterday, the crushed stone. His legs gave out and he fell to the ground, crying.
“Father! Look at them! They stole the family money!” he shouted.
Old Man Chen’s hands trembled with his pipe. “Laosan… you—”
“Grandfather, Uncle,” Chen Zui interrupted crisply, her voice carrying across the village. “The severance paper says we owe each other nothing. This money was earned in the city by Father’s fortune. It has nothing to do with you.”
“If you’re jealous, go find your own fortune.”
“Drive on!”
The cart driver, paid by Chen Zui, snapped his whip.
The ox cart surged forward, kicking up dust that splattered across the old Chen household like a slap.
Only the furious shouting of Old Madam Chen and Old Man Chen’s shaking rage remained behind.
Back at the thatched hut, Madam Li and the two daughters were patching holes in the wall when the cart arrived.
Seeing the mountains of supplies, they froze.
“Head of the house… this…” Madam Li’s mud slipped from her hand.
“Move everything!” Chen Laosan shouted, lifting half a pig onto his shoulder, grinning so widely he showed all his teeth. “Tonight we eat white flour buns and stewed meat! Every day will be like New Year!”
The two sisters cheered and rushed forward to help.
Chen Zui paid the driver and walked inside with the lightest bundle—paper and brushes.
The dim hut was instantly filled with supplies. Rice bin full, flour bin full. Old ragged cotton was thrown out and replaced with thick new quilts.
When the door closed against the wind, Chen Laosan proudly handed over the remaining fifty-plus taels of silver to Madam Li.
“Wife, take it! This was earned by Little Six. From now on, she and you manage all the money!”
Madam Li held the heavy silver, looking at the full house, her husband’s straightened back, and her daughters’ bright faces.
For the first time, the weight in her heart finally lifted.
Separation had been the right choice.
As long as they stayed away from those bloodsuckers and stayed together, life could truly become better.
Chen Zui sat on the new quilt, watching everyone smile. Warmth spread through her chest.
But through the crack in the window, she looked out into the dark night.
When they entered the village earlier, she had already noticed several pairs of greedy eyes watching from the shadows—wolves hiding in the dark.
Wealth attracts trouble.
And tonight, they had shown too much of it.
She reached into her spatial storage, her awareness scanning rows of items: pepper spray, electric batons…
Finally, she stopped on a packet labeled “high-strength itching powder.”
If someone didn’t want to sleep tonight, then they could spend it scratching.