Song Shiyu let out a small “Ah!” and, realizing it, quickly withdrew her arm.
“It’s nothing, nothing.”
Today she had reacted too late—next time she encountered Xu Xiang, she would definitely settle that score.
After that little incident, the mood of the Pei family on their outing wasn’t as pleasant as before.
Pei Jinxi and her brother had never gotten along with her, and now they were even less willing to speak to her.
Pei Qianhuai, ever the taciturn type, didn’t say a word either. So Song Shiyu could only entertain herself along the way.
Luckily…
She had brought the books Pei Qianhuai had left in the room.
Once again, she delved into the fortune-telling books, feeling like she could almost set up a stall and start reading palms and charts.
Of course, that was just one thing.
The more Song Shiyu looked at the books, the more something seemed off.
Her brow furrowed, her eyes clouded with confusion, as if some important problem was gnawing at her—but she held back from speaking.
If she couldn’t figure it out, she’d just leave it for now.
By midday, around the late noon hour, her ears caught a soft, rumbling sound.
She glanced over and saw Pei Jin’an clutching his stomach, licking his chapped lips.
Song Shiyu raised an eyebrow and immediately signaled to Pei Qianhuai, who was focused on driving, to stop the donkey.
Pei Qianhuai: “……”
Obedient as ever, though uncertain of her intentions, he quickly guided the donkey to a halt.
Song Shiyu said, “It’s the middle of the day, and I’m already hungry. Aren’t you hungry? Let’s eat something.”
Pei Qianhuai: “Eat something?”
He was used to going out without preparing food or drinks—what could they eat here?
Pei Jin’an and Pei Jinxi couldn’t hide their skepticism, though there was a hint of expectation in their eyes.
Before Pei Qianhuai could react, Song Shiyu had already pulled out her basket. She swiftly took out several fried flatbreads, some salted vegetables wrapped in oil paper, boiled eggs, and even water stored in bamboo tubes.
The three Pei family members: “……”
Calmly, Song Shiyu placed a portion in front of each of them.
“Eat.”
Pei Qianhuai quickly accepted, taking a flatbread and putting it into his mouth.
Pei Jin’an, however, looked sulky.
He had just quarreled with Song Shiyu, and this morning, he had stubbornly declared he wouldn’t eat any of her cooking!
Even though he was truly hungry now, he didn’t want to eat.
“Don’t think I’ll bow down just because of this! I’m not that stupid!” he gritted out.
Song Shiyu grinned, then bit into a flatbread—crispy, fragrant, delicious.
She cast a sidelong glance at Pei Jin’an.
“No! You’re the stupid one!”
Pei Jin’an glared at her.
Song Shiyu laughed lightly, mocking, “I used your family’s flour, your oil, your eggs, your water. If you don’t want to eat it, what’s that if not foolish? Is your pride worth that much?”
Pei Jin’an was momentarily struck dumb.
He opened his mouth.
Although still annoyed, he had to admit she was right!
Yes! All the ingredients came from their family; it wasn’t Song Shiyu’s fault. She just turned them into food, and giving her a little of it was already generous.
Why wouldn’t he eat?
Having realized this, Pei Jin’an stopped fussing.
He grabbed a flatbread, bit into it heavily, and his eyes visibly lit up.
This wicked woman—she had never cooked before, never made anything good—but now, just casually making a few simple dishes, they were so delicious?
Who knew where this cooking talent came from!
With food in hand, Pei Jin’an calmed down.
All three Pei family members ate two eggs each, nibbled the flatbreads, had some salted radish, and drank water. Suddenly, life felt a little more promising.
Watching them finish their lunch, Song Shiyu felt equally pleased.
A cook loves to see others eat every last bit of what they’ve prepared—it’s the greatest affirmation of their efforts.
After lunch, they set off again.
Soon, they entered the county town.
Pei Jin’an and Pei Jinxi, being children, soon fell asleep after eating and being jostled on the donkey cart.
“I’ll stay here and watch them; you go buy what you need, then we can switch,” Song Shiyu told Pei Qianhuai, glancing at the two kids.
Pei Qianhuai nodded and went off to shop.
They usually only came to the county twice a month for daily necessities.
The allowance Pei Qianhuai gave Song Shiyu was one thing, but buying extra supplies was another.
Rice, flour, oil, sauces, tea—he bought whatever was needed.
Then he bought paper and exchanged a couple of books at the bookstore.
The bookstore owner immediately smiled upon seeing Pei Qianhuai:
“Pei Sanlang, you finally came! The copies of your Exegesis sold really well last time! Just waiting for you to bring a few more—our little shop will benefit too.”
Pei Qianhuai’s calligraphy was exceptional—he could almost memorize anything at a glance.
Although he appeared to be a normal student at the clan school, his true mentor was Mr. Yu, the old steward of Mingyang Bookstore.
Mr. Yu was well-known in the county as a scholar: knowledgeable in astronomy and geography, able to interpret celestial phenomena and predict fortunes. Many of his other skills, however, were unknown to others.
For example: analyzing court affairs, explaining classical texts, understanding political trends, and interpreting military campaigns—these were effortless for Mr. Yu.
When Pei Qianhuai was three, he came to the bookstore with Grandpa Pei and met Mr. Yu. Mr. Yu immediately recognized his talent.
At first, he only intended to teach the boy basic literacy, just enough to earn a living.
But in half a day, Pei Qianhuai memorized hundreds of characters.
He could read ten lines at a glance and immediately recite what he heard—truly a prodigy.
Mr. Yu sighed in amazement:
“I have traveled mountains and rivers, seen the rise and fall of tides, thinking my life would end in obscurity. Yet heaven is not unkind! In my old age, I’ve been given such a fine seedling!”
Since then, whenever he had time, Pei Qianhuai came to study under Mr. Yu.
Today was one such visit.