The more Mrs. Yao thought about it, the more excited she became—but soon she calmed down again.
“Such a good skill… are you really okay just teaching it to me so casually?”
She felt guilty. She knew her family had already wronged Song Zhaoxi, and they also had no intention of keeping her here long-term. She couldn’t bring herself to take advantage of her.
But Song Zhaoxi didn’t take it to heart. She simply saw that this family was honest, a bit downtrodden, and living a constrained life, and she wanted to help them a little.
But in the end, she knew only she could truly change their situation.
“It’s not some extraordinary skill. I only have one condition—you’re not allowed to teach it to outsiders, especially the other branches of the Ji family.”
Mrs. Yao immediately fell silent when she thought of the harsh, unpleasant faces of the Ji family members.
She did want to keep it secret from the family, but they all lived in the same courtyard. Paper can’t wrap up fire forever. And if her mother insisted on learning, could she really refuse?
Frowning slightly, Song Zhaoxi said, “Ji Changfeng studies well. He’ll definitely continue his education in the future. Ji Changlan and Ji Chang’an are growing up too. There will only be more expenses. How long do you plan to let Old Madam Ji keep exploiting you?”
She stopped there.
In the original story, Mrs. Yao was a mother who loved her children more than anything. For her children, there was nothing she wouldn’t endure. She probably understood the situation clearly enough already. If they kept being squeezed by Old Madam Ji and the other branches of the family, Ji Changfeng might not even be able to afford his studies.
It was as if a light suddenly went off in Mrs. Yao’s mind.
As long as she held onto the money from selling candied hawthorns herself, she wouldn’t have to worry about paying for her son’s education or raising the two children.
She looked at the young girl in front of her in shock. Suddenly, she felt that this girl was very intelligent—and perhaps not at all unworthy of her son Ji Changfeng.
After a moment of resolve, Mrs. Yao suddenly grabbed her hand.
“Why don’t you just stay here? After Feng’er comes back from school, I’ll arrange for you to consummate the marriage. Then you two will truly be husband and wife.”
“Co—consummate?”
Song Zhaoxi hadn’t expected the topic to shift so abruptly, and her face flushed red. “N-no need.”
As a supporting character, she was very self-aware. She absolutely couldn’t get involved with the male lead—otherwise she might end up dead in a very ugly way…
Mrs. Yao was stunned that she refused. It wasn’t arrogance on her part—frankly speaking, within ten li and eight villages, there were very few girls who didn’t admire her son Ji Changfeng.
“Miss Song, you have no parents. Staying with us would give you a place to rely on.”
“I can be my own support,” Song Zhaoxi said with a faint smile, cutting her off firmly.
“That’s not how it works. A woman should always have a man to rely on.”
“Who says a woman must rely on a man? Having no parents is fine—it actually saves a lot of trouble.”
More importantly, the man in this book, Ji Changfeng, was an extremely dangerous character.
She had no intention of bringing trouble upon herself.
These words clearly went beyond Mrs. Yao’s understanding. She couldn’t make sense of them, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she stood up.
“Forget it. You two can decide your own matters. Teach me how to make candied hawthorn.”
She paused awkwardly. “But I’m clumsy—I’m afraid I won’t learn well.”
“It’s very simple. You’ll get it after a few tries,” Song Zhaoxi said with a smile.
At first, Mrs. Yao was nervous and kept failing to control the syrup temperature—sometimes too hot, sometimes too watery.
But Song Zhaoxi patiently guided her over and over. Fortunately, Mrs. Yao was used to careful work. Within less than an hour, she had mastered it.
“If you want to sell them in the county, they shouldn’t be left overnight. You should make them early in the morning. But if you want to keep it hidden from the family for now, you’d better not sell them yet—wait until after the autumn harvest when things are less busy. Winter is also better since the sugar coating won’t melt easily,” Song Zhaoxi said.
Mrs. Yao was someone who could endure hardship. “That makes sense. I’ll start selling them in the winter! For now, I’ll practice with the hawthorns at home.”
After saying that, she went to find her husband and asked him to make a simple candied hawthorn rack out of reeds. The two younger children also kept busy—carefully removing hawthorn seeds, which was meticulous work. Each of them sat on a small stool, working seriously.
For the first time in years, the main branch of the Ji family was acting independently in secret. Though nervous, there was also an indescribable sense of excitement.