Mrs. Yao heard about renting a cart and, although she felt it was wasteful, she looked at all the things behind Song Zhaoxi and knew it was indeed impossible for the two of them to carry everything back to the village on foot.
“Alright, let’s go meet up with your second aunt and the others first.”
The two went to the agreed meeting spot at the east gate of the town and waited for a long time, but Li Shi and her daughter still didn’t show up. From the teahouse owner nearby, they learned that a mother and daughter had left half an hour earlier—based on the description, it was Li Shi and Ji Pingping.
They also heard that before leaving, the mother and daughter had been muttering something about “idiots” and the like.
“How can they be like this!” Mrs. Yao’s face flushed red with anger.
Song Zhaoxi wasn’t surprised at all. “Even better. Now we don’t have to explain our purchases. Aunt Ji, let’s go.”
The ox cart traveled slowly, and by the time they reached the village, it was already getting dark.
Li Shi and her daughter had already been home for half an hour. They had bought quite a lot today and were exhausted, drenched in sweat and too tired to even straighten their backs.
But thinking that Mrs. Yao and Song Zhaoxi might still be waiting in the county town for them, they felt an almost malicious satisfaction.
Riding the ox cart back home, Song Zhaoxi was leisurely and relaxed the entire way.
After getting off the cart, seeing no one in the Ji family courtyard, she and Mrs. Yao quietly carried the ingredients into the kitchen.
Long Lan, who heard the noise, brought Long An to help. The two children, who hadn’t seen so much food in a long time, were filled with joy.
“Sister-in-law, you’re amazing.”
Song Zhaoxi was slicing meat when she heard this and couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s so amazing about that? Go wash the hawthorns. I’ll make something delicious for you tonight.”
Long An cheered and ran off on his short legs to wash the hawthorns. Song Zhaoxi asked Ji Changlan to close the kitchen doors and windows tightly so the aroma wouldn’t leak out too much.
Although she wasn’t afraid of trouble from the Ji family, she simply didn’t want to waste energy dealing with nonsense every day.
After closing everything tightly, Ji Changlan came over and hugged her. “Sister-in-law, please stay in our family. I’m sure my older brother will like you too.”
“…Uh.”
Your brother would like me? That’s impossible.
Song Zhaoxi thought to herself but said, “It won’t happen between your brother and me. In the future, you’ll have a much better sister-in-law.”
She knew very well that in this world, no matter how hard she worked, at most she could become a wealthy merchant with a comfortable life, but she could never escape the hierarchy of society.
The woman described in the book came from an extremely noble background—her great-grandfather was a founding hero of the dynasty, her grandfather had been an imperial tutor, and her father and brothers were high-ranking court officials. The power behind her was beyond what ordinary people could compare with.
She was just a “cannon-fodder supporting character” who had drifted into another world. Making money was enough; she wouldn’t dare to dream of changing the plot or getting involved with the male lead.
“I only want you to be my sister-in-law! I don’t want anyone else!” Ji Changlan clung to her arm and acted spoiled. After Song Zhaoxi’s transformation, the child had grown fond of her and was now unwilling to let her go.
Song Zhaoxi felt awkward. Mrs. Yao sighed and pulled Ji Changlan aside. “Stop bothering your sister-in-law. Go play.”
At the same time, she skillfully started steaming rice, deliberately avoiding Song Zhaoxi’s gaze.
Song Zhaoxi understood what she was thinking. Mrs. Yao was gentle and not foolish—she knew very well how much a good wife could help Ji Changfeng and even compensate for shortcomings in his family background.
And that “good wife” would definitely not be someone like her, without parents or family.
She didn’t blame her. Parental concern was understandable.
Song Zhaoxi smiled slightly and continued slicing the meat into thin pieces, seasoning it carefully with salt, pepper, and other spices, then mixing in eggs and a little peanut oil.
She had bought cabbage, turnips, and wood ear mushrooms at the market. After preparing the ingredients, she heated oil in the wok and tossed in dried chilies, Sichuan peppercorns, scallions, ginger, and garlic.
Mrs. Yao sneezed from the spice. “Zhaoxi, what are you cooking? It’s so spicy.”
“Boiled spicy pork slices.”
Song Zhaoxi loved spicy food. She had bought ingredients specifically for Sichuan-style dishes. After cooking the meat and vegetables, she finished by pouring hot oil over them, then quickly made a few lighter dishes as well—braised potatoes with pork ribs and cold wild vegetable salad.
She also cleaned a fish and simmered it into a pot of fresh, milky fish soup. The aroma filled the kitchen so strongly that she opened the back window to let the scent drift out.
In her previous life as a food blogger, her cooking skills were on par with hotel chefs. In this rural ancient world, such flavors were unheard of. The children’s stomachs growled uncontrollably, and even Mrs. Yao couldn’t help swallowing.
When the meal was served, the Ji family rarely got to eat such delicious food. At first, they tried to be restrained, but soon they were eating freely. Little Long An ended up with a round, stuffed belly like a little hamster.
Song Zhaoxi played with him for a while, then went into the courtyard and sat on a bamboo stool, taking bamboo strips used for weaving baskets and cutting them into skewers about thirty centimeters long.
The late-summer breeze brushed across her face. The faint sound of cicadas echoed from the mountains, and for a moment she felt as if she had returned to her past days livestreaming in the mountains—familiar scenery, but everything had changed.
She wondered how her modern self was doing, and whether she still had a chance to go back.
Pulling her thoughts back, she saw the hawthorns had already been washed clean. Long An was very careful, cleaning each one thoroughly.
Skillfully, she removed the cores, skewered them onto bamboo sticks, then brought them into the kitchen. She melted rock sugar with water in a pot over medium heat, stirring slowly until it began to bubble and turn golden.
When the syrup started foaming and deepening in color, she reduced the heat, quickly rolled the skewered hawthorns through the syrup, and placed them on a cooling board to set.
It was a pity there was no glutinous rice paper or sesame seeds like in her previous world, so she could only make a simpler version.
Still, the hawthorns were sweet and tart and perfectly ripe. When she handed the candied hawthorn sticks to Ji Changlan and Long An, the children were overjoyed.
“Sister-in-law, you eat too!” Long An held one up high.
“I’ve already eaten. You enjoy it,” she smiled.
Mrs. Yao was surprised. “Zhaoxi, what did you do before? You even know how to make candied hawthorn.”
Song Zhaoxi paused. Compared to this era, candied hawthorn was one of the simplest snacks she knew, but here it was a valuable traditional craft.
“I don’t remember much from before. Maybe I learned it somewhere,” she said casually.
Then she changed the topic. “If you want, I can teach you. You could sell them in the county town.”
Mrs. Yao became excited. For farming families, once autumn harvest passed, there was usually no income. Winter often meant hunger if the harvest was bad. Having an extra way to earn money was extremely valuable.
Most importantly, hawthorns were cheap—three wen per jin, about thirty or forty pieces.
A stick of candied hawthorn sold for three wen, with about seven hawthorns each. The sticks were essentially free, and sugar cost was low, leaving a profit of about two to three wen per stick. If done quickly, selling dozens in a day would not be a problem.