“Not a single bite is to be left today. Everyone eat until you’re full!”
Old Third Chen’s words weren’t just talk.
The chipped iron pot had been scraped clean down to the bottom. Even the last traces of oil were wiped up with wild vegetable dumplings by Madam Li and stuffed into the mouths of the eldest and second daughters.
The family slumped on the straw-covered ground, their faces glowing with a long-lost sheen of oil. The room still carried the overbearing aroma of meat, mixed with the smoky scent of burning firewood, making everyone feel drowsy.
But that brief comfort only lasted for a moment.
A cold wind seeped in through the broken window paper, like a basin of ice water, instantly wiping away that short-lived warmth.
Old Third Chen let out a burp, patted his stomach, and then his expression darkened again. He looked at the empty rice jar—inside it, apart from a few scraps of dried rations Chen Zui had conjured up last night, there wasn’t enough to keep even a rat alive.
“Head of the house… what do we do tomorrow?” Madam Li asked softly while mending Second Girl’s torn sleeve.
They had eaten well this once, but life still had to go on. With no money and no grain in the fields, how were they going to survive the winter?
Chen Yinuo paused while collecting the dishes, her head lowered. “Father, Mother, tomorrow I’ll go to the town’s wealthy households and ask if they still need laundry workers…”
Old Third Chen sighed, just about to speak, when Chen Zui climbed up from the straw pile. She brushed off the straw on her pants and walked to the flat stone in the center of the room, standing on it.
She was so small that even standing there, she barely reached the adults’ eye level.
“Doing laundry won’t save our family,” Chen Zui said firmly, her voice clear and crisp.
Everyone’s gaze fell on her. At this moment, Chen Zui’s words carried more weight in the family than even Old Third Chen’s.
“Big Sister, those hands of yours are meant for cooking, not soaking in freezing water until they rot.” Chen Zui pointed at the empty pot. “That wild chicken just now—though the meat was tough—your stew made it taste better than anything from the town’s restaurants. That’s skill.”
Chen Yinuo blushed and twisted her fingers in embarrassment. “Little Six, don’t talk nonsense… I just threw it together…”
“It wasn’t random,” Chen Zui shook her head. “It’s a sense for heat and timing. In the future, when our family opens a restaurant, you’ll be the head chef.”
Chen Yinuo’s heart began to race. Open a restaurant? That was something she never even dared to dream of.
Chen Zui then turned to Second Sister.
Chen Erxiu was huddled beside Madam Li, holding a rusty needle and mending clothes. Her stitches were neat and even, the patchwork so fine it looked like embroidery. If you didn’t look closely, you’d think it was decorative.
“With those hands, you’ll be making clothes for imperial consorts in the future,” Chen Zui praised without hesitation.
Chen Erxiu’s hand trembled in shock, nearly pricking herself. “Little Six, that’s disrespectful…”
“Enough,” Chen Zui cut off their self-doubt. She reached into her chest (actually into her spatial consciousness) and rummaged for a moment.
“If we want good days ahead, saving alone won’t cut it. We need to earn more.”
She pulled out a tightly wrapped bundle of cloth and placed it in front of Old Third Chen.
“What is this?” he asked, leaning closer.
Chen Zui slowly unwrapped the cloth layer by layer.
A dried yellow root, still carrying traces of soil and intact root fibers, appeared before them. It faintly resembled a human figure, with a few withered red berries still clinging to the top.
Old Third Chen, though a farmer, had heard of such things countless times in village tales.
“This… this is a ‘bangchui’ (ginseng)?” His eyes nearly popped out. His hands trembled, afraid to touch it.
“I dug it out from under the nest where I caught that wild chicken,” Chen Zui said calmly, without changing her expression. “The old immortal who taught me acupuncture in my dream told me—it’s wild mountain ginseng. It can save lives and is worth a fortune.”
Madam Li clutched her chest, nearly fainting. “Heavens… how much grain could this be worth…”
Chen Zui observed the ginseng. It was something she had taken from the “premium medicinal section” of her spatial supermarket, choosing the smallest and most convincing wild-looking piece. Based on the prices of this era, it would fetch at least dozens of taels of silver.
“Father, tomorrow we’re not going to carry heavy loads,” Chen Zui said, wrapping it back up and placing it into Old Third Chen’s hands. “We’re going to the town’s Jishitang clinic to sell medicine.”
Old Third Chen held the bundle like it weighed a thousand pounds. Looking at his daughter’s young but steady face, his panic strangely calmed.
“Alright. We’ll listen to you, Little Six.” He gritted his teeth. “Tomorrow morning, we head into town!”
Night fell.
The thatched hut still leaked wind, but the family’s hearts were warm.
Chen Zui did not sleep. By moonlight, she watched her sleeping sisters. The eldest still smacked her lips in her dreams; the second’s hands still moved unconsciously as if stitching.
They all needed nourishment.
Quietly, Chen Zui took out a bamboo tube from her space and added twice the usual amount of spiritual spring water into it.
“Big Sister, Second Sister, drink some water before sleeping so you won’t be thirsty at night,” she whispered, waking them gently.
The two drank in a daze.
As the water went down, Chen Yinuo suddenly felt her thoughts about cooking become unusually clear—where to add salt, when to reduce heat, everything suddenly made sense. Chen Erxiu, meanwhile, felt her tired, sore eyes become refreshingly clear.
The spiritual spring not only strengthened the body, but subtly enhanced talent and perception.
After finishing all this, Chen Zui curled back into her mother’s arms.
Madam Li slept uneasily, her hand instinctively patting Chen Zui’s back while humming a tuneless lullaby.
Chen Zui breathed in the faint scent of soap and milk on her mother and slowly closed her eyes.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow would be the Chen family’s real first step toward turning things around.
That snobbish servant at Jishitang, and the supposedly skilled shopkeeper… hopefully they knew quality when they saw it. If not, she wouldn’t mind using a few “methods” to make them understand.
In the darkness, Chen Zui clenched her small fist, a determined smile curling at the corner of her lips.