Clara had to admit—Lester's skin was probably made of city walls.
The moment he heard the word delicious, he shamelessly squeezed his way over.
His whole strategy was built on one simple principle: if I'm thick-skinned enough, no one can guilt-trip me into behaving.
Six steaming bowls of wontons were served, and the kids' eyes lit up.
Each bowl cost eight copper coins and held fifteen plump wontons stuffed generously with meat. Adam, Ben, Chad, and Deb all agreed—it beat the candied hawthorns hands down.
Anything with meat was automatically a treasure in their eyes.
Chad and Deb devoured the huge bowl of wontons clean—every last one.
Clara glanced at their satisfied faces and sighed inwardly. Great. They're going to be too full to sleep tonight.
She stopped them from drinking the leftover broth and downed it herself in two big gulps.
Lester had been eyeing the leftovers, waiting for his turn to scavenge—but not even a single drop was left for him. The sulk on his face was almost pitiful.
After lunch, Clara sent Lester off with the children to wait by the cart, while she went alone to finish buying New Year's goods.
She picked up some oil and soy sauce, and 5kg of pork—planning to render lard from the fatty portions and freeze the lean parts outside for later meals.
She noticed someone selling bean sprouts grown at home and decided to try sprouting her own. In the winter, even one extra vegetable variety was worth the effort.
She also bought a sheet of red paper, a pair of red lanterns, incense sticks, and a bag of straw for the ox.
By the time she was done, Clara had just nine taels and five coins of silver left in her purse.
One trip into town had cost six silver coins. Painful, when she thought about it.
Everything in this era was expensive. If she didn't find a way to earn more soon, she was going to run out of money.
Having an ox cart made things so much easier—it could carry people and cargo. When they returned it to the village chief's house, Clara gave the ox a few extra pats, reluctant to let it go. She wanted one. Badly.
Too bad her coin pouch said otherwise.
The six of them returned home with a full load, and just as they stepped into the courtyard, the overcast sky suddenly brightened.
It had started snowing.
White flakes drifted silently down, covering the ground with a soft dusting. Their footsteps crunched as they walked across the yard.
The entire family huddled inside the main room, warming themselves by the freshly lit charcoal brazier, thankful they had made it home just in time.
The snow came fast and heavy.
By the next morning, the land was blanketed in a sheet of white light, glowing like silver.
The temperature had plummeted. Winter had truly arrived. Families everywhere shut their doors tight to keep out the chill.
To save firewood, Clara's family only cooked twice a day. Breakfast and lunch were prepared together in the morning, and by midday they would just reheat things on the brazier.
There wasn't enough fuel to warm each room, so everyone stayed gathered in the main hall once they got up.
The father and four children studied together, while Clara, having finished her two hundred push-ups, sat off to the side deep in thought—thinking of ways to make money.
She started recalling all those transmigration novels she'd read during her student days.
How did the other transmigrated heroines get rich?
The most common path—food businesses.
And among those, dishes using pork offal were practically a golden goose: cheap ingredients, quick turnover, big profits.
Clara was tempted.
Reality, however, smacked her hard across the face.
First of all, she couldn't buy the necessary spices for pork offal dishes.
Spices like star anise or Sichuan peppercorns were outrageously expensive here—if they could even be found. The whole of Willowridge County didn't have them. Only government officials and wealthy merchants could afford such luxuries, and they relied on private trade routes.
Second, the population across the neighboring villages didn't even total a thousand people. Settlements were scattered. Even the nearest town, Goldstone, was a three-hour walk away. There simply wasn't a viable market.
A poor mountain village at the start of the game. Dead end.
And the final blow?
Absolutely hilarious.
No one in the entire village could even afford to raise pigs. There weren't even raw materials to work with!
Pork offal was still meat, after all. The kind of frugal folk who could stir-fry grasshoppers and leeches wouldn't waste a single bit of pig.
"Pork offal path—abandoned!"
Clara slashed that idea off her mental whiteboard with a metaphorical red X.
She began thinking of other food options.
Tofu... maybe that could work?
But then she remembered the saying: "Of all life's hardships, none are tougher than rowing a boat, forging iron, and grinding soybeans."
She wasn't sure if she could handle that kind of labor.
Wait a second—she had seen bean sprouts being sold in the county town. If people could grow bean sprouts, surely they knew how to make tofu too?
Suspicion growing, Clara decided to test the knowledge of her household.
"Anyone know what you can make from soybeans?" she asked, gently shoving Lester off the teaching stool and taking his place with a smile.
Ben shot his hand up enthusiastically. "I know!"
Clara nodded encouragingly. "Let's hear it."
Ben said confidently, "Soybeans can be sprouted into bean sprouts. You can also make tofu pudding and tofu blocks. Auntie Doreen makes tofu to sell during winter. People trade soybeans with her in exchange for tofu for their New Year's meals."
Adam added, "We use tofu in hotpot. It's great with meat."
He still remembered it clearly—his birth mother had made hotpot twice before she passed. The flavor was unforgettable.
Clara massaged her temples. So tofu was already widespread here. And hotpot, too!
Bartering was the norm in this village. Trading surplus soybeans for tofu was common practice.
When she did the math, she realized she might as well go back to weaving straw sandals.
Adam and Ben glanced nervously at their stepmother. Did they get the answer wrong? Why did she look... disappointed?
Clara forced a smile and gave them both a thumbs-up. "Congratulations! You got it right. You win a mental prize!"
The brothers blinked. "What's a mental prize?"
Clara raised her thumb again. "This. You're top notch."
The two stood awkwardly, not sure whether to laugh. But honestly, it wasn't that funny.
Clara waved at Lester. "You may continue."
Lester took a deep breath—lest he explode with frustration. The lesson had been going just fine before she barged in.
Clara returned to her corner and sat quietly, head bowed in thought.
But before she could come up with a new plan, the New Year arrived.
It had snowed for several days. On New Year's Eve, the sky finally cleared. Snow melted from the rooftops, dripping steadily into icicles under the eaves.
With the snow gone, the kids—cooped up for days—burst out of their homes like freed birds. They threw snowballs, cracked icicles, and built snowmen in the yard.
The cold inside drove them out, and running around kept them warm. Parents no longer stopped them from going out.
The village chief and several strong young men from the clan went house to house for a headcount.
By the end of the day, they had carried two frozen old folks out of wind-leaky thatch huts.
They were wrapped in straw mats, carried to the wilderness, buried under yellow earth. A quiet end to their lives.
Still, compared to last year, things had improved. Only two elderly froze to death. No children or young people had perished. That was progress.
In Clara's memory, Spring Festival was always a grand celebration—gongs, drums, firecrackers, vibrant and festive.
But here in Liew Clan Village, due to lack of resources, the celebration was simple.
Each family tried their best to cook the finest meal they could manage.
Everyone sat around the table and shared that meal together—and that was their New Year.
There were no lantern shows, no dragon or lion dances.
Just a warm meal and the hope for good weather and peace in the coming year.
That's why, when Clara took out two pre-cut 福 (fu - means fortune) characters and pasted them on the front door, the kids looked on like they were seeing something magical.
It was then they realized—So this… is what New Year is supposed to be like.
(End of Chapter)
Enjoying the story? Get early access to new chapters on my Patreon: patreon.com/c/TinaWriterXD
Thank you for your support! 💛