Li Fu winced in pain and quickly pulled his hand back, his eyes widening in shock. He bellowed, “What are you hitting me for?”
“Did I invite you to sit?” Li Yao asked, her voice cold. “And did I give you permission to eat?”
Li Fu could hardly believe his ears. Was this really something his eldest sister would say? Usually, no matter what it was, she would defer to him, tolerate his whims, and let him have his way.
“Big sister, what is the meaning of this?” Li Fu demanded. “You’re begrudging me a little chicken? If you ever run into trouble in the future, do you still want us to have your back?”
Li Yao had no patience for his nonsense. “I don’t care. Get out.”
That single word—out—completely infuriated Li Fu. Never in his life had he been subjected to such insults or slights in front of his sister. He surged to his feet, pointing an accusatory finger at Li Yao. “You think you’re something special just because you managed to eat two chickens? You won’t even acknowledge your own family now! If your house ever runs into trouble again, if I ever lift a finger to help you, I won’t carry the Li name!”
Li Yao turned to Dazhuang. “Grab a stick and throw him out.”
Dazhuang didn’t hesitate. He pulled a long wooden staff from behind the door. He had endured this uncle’s behavior for far too long; if it came to a fight, he wouldn’t show a shred of mercy.
“You’ve all gone mad!” Li Fu saw the weapon and was so enraged he looked ready to explode. “Fine, fine! If you want to be this cold-hearted, don’t blame me! As for your Wang Er, don’t even think about him following Li Xian to study anymore!”
“Hit him!”
At Li Yao’s command, the staff in Dazhuang’s hand swung toward Li Fu. Scared out of his wits, Li Fu turned tail and fled, cursing and swearing as he scrambled away.
“From now on,” Li Yao said, “if anyone dares to barge in here—especially your grandmother’s family—drive them out. As long as you don’t kill them, I’ll take responsibility for whatever happens.”
“Yes, Mother.”
A sense of hidden excitement stirred in the children. Their mother finally understood: her mother’s family only ever wanted to take their things, and not a single one of them was a good person.
“Hurry up and eat.”
The wild pheasant was undeniably better than any farm-raised chicken. Because the birds were young, the meat was incredibly tender, flavorful, and juicy. The children couldn’t stop licking their lips and fingers. They had eaten chicken at home before, but it had always been from birds raised for years—the meat was invariably tough and dry, nothing like this succulent, roasted fare.
Seeing the children so satisfied—licking the bamboo skewers clean—Li Yao felt an unexpected sense of accomplishment.
“Mother, I’ll go wash the bowls.”
“Mother, I’ll bring you water to wash your face.”
“Mother, I’ll wash your feet.”
“Mother, change your clothes; I’ll wash these for you…”
After dinner, the children didn’t need her to arrange anything; they each picked up chores, doting on her as if she were the Empress Dowager. Li Yao accepted it all with grace. The feeling of being a mother, she realized, wasn’t so bad after all.
However, she keenly noticed that Wang Er seemed off. He was hiding alone in the courtyard, staring up at the stars.
“Dazhuang, what’s wrong with Wang Er?”
Dazhuang looked toward the yard, hesitated, then mumbled, “Uncle said he won’t let him go study with Young Uncle anymore.”
Li Yao remembered Li Fu’s threat. To her, however, it was a complete non-issue. As the saying went: The eldest is diligent, the second is clever, and the third and fourth are restless. Wang Er had been sharp since he was a child and truly loved to study.
Originally, the previous Li Yao had asked Er Dan (Wang Er) to accompany her youngest brother, Li Xian, to his lessons, hoping he might pick up a bit of knowledge so at least someone in the house would be literate. Her bottomless, groveling fawning over her mother’s family had been partly driven by this very hope.
What was euphemistically called “accompanying his studies” was, in plain terms, nothing more than being an errand boy and a punching bag. Wang Er didn’t just have to bear the small-mindedness of his uncle; he endured the disdain of his grandmother’s entire family, the scorn of his uncle’s classmates, and the cold indifference of the old tutor… It was truly unfair to this child. To be dumped by his fiancé today was simply the final blow.
Li Yao walked out into the courtyard, sat beside Wang Er, and looked up at the sea of stars.
“Mother, I’m fine,” Wang Er said quietly. “I’ll stop studying. From now on, I’ll just learn to farm with my big brother.”
Wang Er was only thirteen. In Li Yao’s view, a child this age should be in school. But in this world, for a poor family, education was a heavy burden; the mere cost of tuition could drain a family’s entire resources, and even then, success wasn’t guaranteed. Wang Er’s desire to quit was entirely understandable.
“Do you want to stop studying?” Li Yao asked.
“Now that we’ve offended Grandmother’s family, Uncle…” Wang Er lowered his head and whispered, “He’ll surely never let me accompany him to lessons again.”
“Who says you can’t study just because you aren’t accompanying him?” Li Yao replied. “Don’t overthink it. As long as you want to learn, I will ensure you do. You can attend the county academy, or we can hire a private tutor to teach you at home.”
Wang Er froze, stunned. Hiring a private tutor to teach at home? That sounded a bit too extravagant! Even the wealthy landlords and powerful figures in town—or even the magistrate himself—hardly ever brought a tutor into their own homes! Yet, her words carried a weight that made him feel inexplicably secure.
“Thank you, Mother. I will study hard and make you proud in the future.”
“Go to sleep now. We’re going to the market tomorrow.”
The house had four rooms: a main hall, one for Dazhuang and Xiaoya, one for Wang Er and Wang Sisan, and one for Li Yao and seven-year-old Wang Xiaosi. Though they were her children in this body, Li Yao was still not quite used to the closeness. After a restless night, she rose before dawn and set out for the market with Dazhuang and Wang Er.
Riverbend Village was twenty li from the market town. The narrow, winding dirt road was barely wide enough for a bullock cart; even a horse carriage couldn’t squeeze into the village. Of course, no one in Riverbend could afford a carriage anyway.
The three of them walked for a full hour before reaching the marketplace. Li Yao found an apothecary, and once the shopkeeper inspected the premium, well-aged herbs, he offered her 800 wen.
“Come back if you have more,” the shopkeeper promised. “I guarantee you’ll get the fairest price from me.”
With the heavy coins in her purse, she led Dazhuang and Wang Er into a noodle shop. She ordered three bowls of wontons and five steamed buns, and bought another twenty buns to take home. Because of the drought, grain prices had skyrocketed, and this single meal cost her 105 wen.
Li Yao didn’t grudge the money. She handed 500 wen to Dazhuang, instructing him to buy rice, flour, meat, oil, salt, brown sugar, and pickles, along with soy sauce and rice vinegar. She spent the rest of the day wandering the streets, visiting every shop in town.
Baichuan County was tucked near the mountains. While remote and desperately poor, its jurisdiction was vast. It encompassed thirty-three villages with a combined population of over 40,000, making it the most populous county in the region. Baichuan Market, serving as the county seat, was quite substantial—five main intersecting streets, and no shortage of wealthy residents.
There were restaurants, wine houses, inns, tea shops, banks, apothecaries, fabric stores, oil mills, distilleries, cosmetic shops, bookstores, pawnshops, smithies, and even coffin shops… it had everything. Business seemed steady enough; had it not been a drought year, it would have been even more bustling and prosperous.
Hunting and foraging were only stopgap measures; she couldn’t spend her life digging for herbs and stalking prey. If she wanted to make money quickly and with less physical strain, she needed to run a business.
She focused her research on the food industry. The cuisine of this era was truly mediocre—monotonous cooking methods, casual ingredient selection, and a near-total lack of spice or herb usage. The same few dishes were repeated everywhere. Even the market’s best establishment, the He Family Restaurant, offered only seven or eight signature dishes, none of which showed even a spark of innovation.
It was settled. Her first business venture would be selling food.