The moment Lester Liew caught sight of their front gate, he nearly collapsed—he couldn't even take one more step.
Only heaven knew how far that mountain trail was. And he had carried so much wheat on his back the entire way. His legs felt like jelly. He was practically a ghost by the time he got back.
On the way home, he'd cursed himself a few hundred times.
Lester, you idiot. Why didn't you just sell off that plot of land when you had the chance? Now look at you—dug your own grave!
When all his strength gave out, he crumpled to the ground, burden and all. Flat on his back on a pile of wheat straw, eyes rolled up, chest heaving like he was about to meet his maker.
Clara clicked her tongue twice. She knew firsthand how grueling fieldwork was. For once, she looked at him with a rare flicker of sympathy.
The four kids rushed up with worry—one brought water, another wiped sweat, the rest hovered nearby offering comfort.
What a sight. Who else got this kind of royal treatment just for carrying a load of wheat home? Most villagers would dump a load and immediately go back for another.
Clara walked up, hauled Lester off the straw with one hand, then picked up the massive bundle of wheat as easily as if it were a sack of feathers and carried it into the courtyard.
Lester stared, dumbfounded. That bundle had nearly crushed him, and she'd lifted it with one hand. He really wanted to ask, If you could do this all along, why make me suffer?
But he didn't dare. Instead, he scrambled inside, weakly calling out, "Huuungry! Food!"
Clara couldn't be bothered to cook anything fancy—nor could she, really—so she just made a pot of plain congee.
Lester looked at the bland, uninspiring bowl and asked softly, "Darling… may I add a little sugar?"
Clara glanced out at the bundles of wheat in the yard, then gave a reluctant nod.
The kids immediately followed suit, each getting a half-spoonful of sugar, turning plain porridge into a sweet treat. Suddenly, it didn't taste bad at all.
Clara thought these four little ones were really easy to care for—not picky eaters, never whined, and even helped gather wild greens.
She glanced at the basket of foraged vegetables hanging from a beam in the kitchen. Tomorrow she'd stir-fry some for lunch and see how they tasted.
Lately, with so little veg in their diet, even bathroom visits had been uncomfortable.
Just this morning, Deb had squatted for ages before returning teary-eyed and saying, "Mommy, my tummy's all swollen."
One touch and Clara knew—constipation.
It was a small thing, but it could get serious. Most villagers didn't care, even if it meant kids occasionally died from it. With all the farm work, who had time?
But Clara wasn't about to take chances. She gave Adam twenty copper coins and sent him to Doctor Liew place to get something to help.
After they finished the white porridge that night, Clara boiled the medicine. One small bowl for each of the six family members.
"We're sticking to congee for the next few days. Easier to digest," Clara declared.
The father and kids didn't argue—so long as they were full, it was fine. And this was fine rice, too—tasted way better than coarse grains.
Lester, after downing his medicine, collapsed dramatically into a chair in the main hall, looking like his soul had left his body.
Usually he was full of chatter—annoyingly so. Clara found the sudden silence made the house feel a little too quiet.
She went to the shower room and took a nice hot bath. Then she filled two buckets of warm water and called the kids to clean themselves up, heads and all.
They hadn't dared bathe all winter, afraid of catching cold. Only Clara had secretly washed her hair twice—she couldn't stand it otherwise.
Now that the weather was warming up, the smell… well, it was starting to marinate. If they didn't wash soon, they'd turn into pickled vegetables.
Clara sat on a stool by the front door, drying her hair with a towel.
"How much wheat is left to harvest?" she asked casually.
At the question, Lester's eyes flickered with the faintest light. He responded weakly, "One acre is done today… one more tomorrow. Then I'll need two days to carry it all back."
His voice faded to a whisper. After a beat of silence, he suddenly appeared behind Clara and gently tugged on the hem of her robe. "Darling, have mercy… If I keep going like this, I'll die out there tomorrow!"
Clara jumped slightly at his sudden appearance. She frowned, pulling her robe away. "You didn't die today. You won't die tomorrow."
And then the tears came.
Lester rolled up his sleeves and pant legs to reveal bruises, scratches, bug bites—any injury he could muster. "Darling, please take pity. Look at me—there's not an inch of good skin left! Those wheat bristles stabbed me everywhere, and the mosquitoes, they're poisonous! My head's spinning. If I have to do this again tomorrow, I'd rather you beat me to death now!"
Clara scoffed. "Heh."
"Then do it! Beat me to death! At least I won't suffer anymore!"
And with that, Lester dropped to the ground, flailing and rolling around like a madman—no shame, no pride. Truly, he had mastered the art of being a drama king.
The four kids had just come out of the bath when they saw their dad throwing a tantrum on the floor. Rolling left, rolling right… it was a scene of pure ridiculousness.
They stood frozen, stunned beyond words.
Clara too was dumbfounded. It took her five full seconds to react, and when she did, she gave him a solid kick to get him off the ground.
"What the hell's wrong with you? It's just harvesting wheat—what's the big deal?" she snapped.
Lester slumped against the doorframe, head hanging, shoulders drooping, lips pressed to his sleeve like a wounded soul. "It is a big deal…"
Clara: "…"
She was speechless. Absolutely done.
Seeing the kids were out already, she pointed to the shower and barked, "Go wash up! You stink!"
Lester barely moved. He clung to the doorframe like his bones had all turned to mush, peach blossom eyes glistening with tears.
Clara almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
But her voice remained firm. "Go!"
Then she added, "You harvest. I'll carry. Let's get the rest of the wheat back in one day."
Lester's dull eyes lit up instantly.
He reached out excitedly to grab her hand, but she sidestepped. He sheepishly withdrew it and beamed. "Darling, I knew it! You're kinder than any goddess!"
With his energy miraculously restored, he ran to the kitchen, poured all the hot water into the wooden tub, and headed for the shower.
Clara helped Chad and Deb dry their hair. By now, the moon was already high. She gave them each a pat on the bum. "Off to bed."
Then she told Adam, "Tomorrow morning I'll make an extra pot of porridge and leave it on the stove. You all can eat breakfast and lunch yourselves. Make sure you practice your writing, too."
Adam nodded earnestly. "Don't worry, Auntie. I'll take care of Ben and the rest. I won't let them run off."
Clara patted his shoulder in approval. Adam looked away shyly, then led his younger siblings to bed.
Clara watched the lights go out in the children's room. When she turned around again, her gaze landed on—
Lester, stepping out from the shower room in thin white inner clothes, his ink-black hair falling like a waterfall down his back, long legs striding out gracefully.
He emptied the dirty water into the drainage channel, set the bucket at the door, and lifted his head.
And right at that moment, the moonlight landed perfectly on his devastatingly handsome face.
Clara's pupils twitched, and rage instantly flared.
Why… WHY did heaven give this shameless man such a stunning face?
"Lester Liew," she gritted her teeth. "Did you save a celestial being in your last life?"
Lester found the question oddly familiar… like someone had asked him that before.
But who?
He couldn't remember.
He looked at her with a puzzled expression, peach blossom eyes so tender they could make a dog swoon. If Clara hadn't just watched him roll around the floor like a worm, even she might have wavered.
"Wake up early tomorrow," she said flatly, then turned and went inside to sleep.
Lester, now comforted that he wouldn't be the only one suffering tomorrow, felt his spirits rise. He fell asleep with a huge grin on his face.
(End of Chapter)
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