The shed was finally completed, and the mill was officially ready for business.
Though really, calling it a "shed" didn't quite do it justice—it was more like a pavilion. It had a proper roof, supported by bamboo poles on all sides. Three of the sides had a horizontal bamboo pole serving as a railing, and one side was left open as an entrance.
For something built in such a short time and at no cost, Clara was very satisfied.
The mill sat right at the base of her hill, so she didn't need to worry about it being stolen. If anything happened, she could hear it from her house.
With everything in place, Clara headed to the village well during the midday break—when everyone gathered—to announce the pricing rules.
"Five copper coins per hour. Just drop off the grain you want milled—I'll take care of the rest and have it delivered to your home."
Honestly, even Clara herself felt this service was a steal. The villagers could go about their business while she did the grinding and delivery. If it were her, she'd gladly pay for such convenience.
Lester Liew, however, grumbled that it was too much work. They had to supervise the mill and deliver the goods too. Only a fool wouldn't jump on this offer.
And so, the couple brought out two stools and sat at the mill, waiting for customers.
Lester even hauled over a small side table from home, placing a pot of cooled tea and two cups on top. He imagined himself sipping tea by the riverbank, pretending to be some carefree nobleman from the city—what was it they called it? "Embracing the mountains and rivers"?
Clara had saved all the feathers from the birds they hunted the day before and laid them out to dry, planning to use them for gloves or scarves later. Feathers were still feathers—why not make a down coat someday?
So there they sat—one sipping tea, one sorting fluff and feathers—waiting for their first customer.
Three cups of tea and one fully sorted batch of feathers later, still no one had come.
Clara glanced at Lester. "Maybe they're too busy?"
Lester looked just as baffled. "Even if they're busy, surely someone's free at this hour?"
It couldn't be the price—no way that was too high!
"Let's wait a little longer?" Clara suggested.
Lester took a fourth sip. "Yeah."
But he couldn't hold it any longer. "Sweetheart, I'll be right back!" he said, hurrying off to the outhouse.
When he returned, still no one had come.
Their confidence was starting to crack.
Clara wasn't the type to sit and stew. She headed straight to the village well to find out what was going on.
Only a few kids were hanging around.
She spotted Rosie and called her over. "Where are all the adults?"
"Over at the ancestral hall," Rosie replied sweetly, pointing.
Clara hurried over—and before she even reached the hall, she saw what looked like a long procession of grain baskets lined up outside the old stone mill.
Apparently, no one knew how long each person would take at the mill, and with chores waiting at home, they'd resorted to using grain baskets to mark their place in line.
The more baskets, the more people waiting.
Seeing that ridiculous queue, Clara was utterly confused.
If the stone mill was this packed, why wasn't anyone using her water-powered mill?
What had gone wrong?
Well, as it turned out—plenty.
Martha Liew, coming back from weeding the vegetable plot, had glanced at Clara's mill on the way and noticed something strange: the grinding wheel wasn't turning, and not a single soul was there.
That puzzled her.
She had tried the water mill herself yesterday. You just stood there and fed grain into it—effortless. The spring river was running high and strong, spinning the mill much faster than any manual stone mill. She'd milled a full load of grain in just half an hour—half the time it used to take.
"How come no one's using it?" she muttered, scratching her head as she walked home.
Inside, she heard Doreen and Kate gossiping as they worked the loom.
"Auntie Zhou came by asking why Clara's mill charges so much," Doreen grumbled. "We're all kin here, breaking bones and tying tendons together—what, is she trying to profit off her own family?"
"She was gonna use the water mill this morning, but the second she heard it was five copper coins an hour, she slinked right back to the stone mill."
"Well, she's got time to spare. If she's gonna do the work herself, it's free."
Kate frowned. "That's not fair. Clara spent good silver building that water mill. What, she's supposed to let people use it for free?"
Doreen snorted. "You know how stingy Auntie Zhou is."
"She can suffer then," Kate laughed.
But… even Kate had to admit—five copper coins an hour wasn't easy to spare for most village folk.
Doreen thought so too. She liked using Clara's mill for free. But if she had to pay, she'd rather grind it herself on the old stone mill. Maybe they'd pay for it if they were hosting a feast and needed a big batch, but even then, only sometimes.
The real issue wasn't just the money.
Five copper coins might buy a little over a pound of rough rice, but for villagers used to hardship, spending that kind of food money just for convenience felt almost… shameful.
If a wife spent money to avoid hard work, her husband and mother-in-law might chew her out for being lazy or wasteful.
After overhearing all this, Martha finally understood why Clara's mill was sitting empty.
She figured Clara and Lester were still clueless, so she called over her eldest grandson, Ryder, who was catching ants for the chickens along the ridge, and sent him to deliver the news.
Ryder grinned and took off—he was hoping to grab Adam and the others to go ant hunting together.
When Lester got the message, he practically jumped out of his shoes. "Too cheap to spend five coins? Serves them right to be tired!"
Clara stayed calm. Well—calmer.
"Drop the price," she muttered. "Three copper coins an hour. Surely someone will come… right?"
Even she didn't sound confident.
Lester ran off to spread the word again.
The next morning, they resumed their wait.
From dawn to dusk, only one customer came—Maggie, Peddler Liew's wife. She brought a bucket of dehulled wheat.
Thanks to the water mill's efficiency, Clara milled it in half an hour. In return, Maggie handed over two small gourds.
Since it didn't quite reach a full coin's worth, she told Lester to come pick them fresh from her garden anytime.
That evening, the whole family sat around sipping plain rice porridge and picking at a dish of clear gourd soup.
Flavorless.
"We're lowering it again," Clara announced, her voice tight.
Lester's voice trembled. "How much?"
Clara clenched her jaw. "Two copper coins per hour."
Lester dutifully made another village announcement.
Thank the heavens—Frank Liew finally came through.
He showed up dragging fifty baskets of grain, ready to be dehulled.
Clara and Lester welcomed him like royalty.
After that, Lester manned the mill, Clara hauled the sacks. For the first time, the two worked in perfect sync, grinding and delivering all fifty loads to Frank's home in just three and a half days.
Three and a half days—25 working hours.
When Frank cheerfully handed over fifty copper coins, Clara didn't even have the strength to smile.
The little voice in her head screamed: Let it all burn.
(End of Chapter)
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