Carefree Farmwife: Training the Husband, Raising the Bun - Chapter 26

Ying Su turned around and her eyes lit up. The new clothes made the little bun’s face look even more delicate, his brows and eyes handsome and refined, unbearably adorable. 

Ying Su stroked her chin, thinking to herself, ‘No wonder they say clothes make the man and a saddle makes the horse. My cheap little son, dressed up even casually, is way too handsome! He could easily outshine all the child stars of the 21st century!’

There was no mirror in the house, so the little bun ran to the wooden bucket and looked at his reflection in the water. Tilting his head left and right, he could hardly contain his joy.

Seeing this, Ying Su found it amusing as well, and she liked this “cheap son” of hers more and more.

While the little bun continued to admire himself by the bucket, Ying Su rearranged the dirty straw on the floor, laid the only filthy old quilt on it, and then spread out the new bedding she had bought in town that day.

The moment the little bun saw the new bedding, his excitement over his new clothes instantly vanished, replaced by a pang of heartache. He thought gloomily, ‘It’s over, it’s over. Mommy must’ve spent all the money.’ Not daring to upset Ying Su, he only muttered under his breath, “Why did you buy a new bedding too?”

Ying Su pretended not to hear. Since the household’s bath barrel had also been broken, they couldn’t bathe and had to make do for the night. With many tasks awaiting her tomorrow, she crawled under the covers and beckoned to him. “Come on, sleep. We need to get up early tomorrow.”

The little bun, ever careful with lamp oil, gingerly took off his new clothes, folded them neatly, and placed them in a clean spot. Then he crawled into the bedding, his little hands curiously brushing over the new quilt. Afraid of damaging it, he quickly pulled his hands back and lay stiffly under the covers, hardly daring to breathe.

Seeing this, Ying Su felt a sudden ache in her chest. The child must have suffered a great deal before, to even treasure a quilt so dearly. Stretching out her right arm, she pulled the little bun into her embrace and said gently, “Baby, Mommy will definitely make sure you live a good life.”

Ying Su wondered if every mother felt this way, wanting to give the very best of the world to their child.

Lying stiffly in her arms, the little bun seemed unaccustomed to sleeping while being held. After all, ever since he was little, Shen Cuihua never allowed him near her. His eyes reddened, and he quietly wiped them in the dark. In a small voice, he whispered, “Life is already very good now.”

He couldn’t imagine what kind of life Ying Su meant by a “good life.” To him, life as it was now was already the best he could dream of. Never before had he thought his mother would one day become sober-minded and treat him with the same love and care other village women gave their children.

At midnight, Ying Su opened her eyes again. Carefully shifting the boy curled in her arms to the side, she slipped out of bed and carried a bucket to the river behind the house.

This time, she was extra cautious, surveying the surroundings. Seeing nothing amiss, she leapt into the river and, just as she had the night before, filled two buckets with fish before climbing out.

The thatched hut’s roof was completely ruined, and the house itself had barely any intact spots left. It was practically uninhabitable. Knowing she had to earn money quickly to build two or three new rooms, Ying Su thought grimly that otherwise, one day when it rained or stormed, she and the little bun would be forced to live in the water.

She carried the two buckets of fish inside, changed into dry clothes, and slipped quietly back into bed. Afraid she might still carry the chill of the river, she deliberately kept her distance from the little bun.

The next morning, before dawn broke, Ying Su rose. Even though the household pot had been smashed to pieces, leaving her unable to cook porridge, this hardly troubled her. Back when she had trained in survival during wilderness missions, she had perfected the art of roasting food.

With swift hands, she sharpened a wooden skewer, pulled out a plump fish from the bucket, quickly scaled it, gutted it, and scored it with a few knife slashes. After rubbing it with salt for a short marinade, she sprinkled it with some seasoning and cumin she had foraged in the mountains a few days ago, then propped it over a wood fire to roast.

As for the pork she had bought yesterday, she had intentionally asked for more fat meat, planning to render it into oil for stir-frying later. Using it for roasting now felt like a waste.

After a thought, she cut off the leaner portions, chopped them into small pieces, skewered them with sticks, and set them over the fire, an improvised kebabs.

Before long, the rich aroma of roasted meat filled the air. Thinking how the little bun couldn’t have porridge that morning made Ying Su’s anger flare again. She already had her suspicions about who had smashed the pot and wrecked the hut. 

A glint of cold light flashed in her eyes. ‘So it’s true, the mighty tiger fallen into the plains will be bullied by dogs. And now, someone dares to bully me?’

Flipping the roasting skewers, Ying Su sneered inwardly. ‘That person must be tired of living.’

At that moment, footsteps approached, growing nearer. Ying Su turned her head slightly toward the sound, her dark eyes shifting.

The newcomer was about twenty-four or twenty-five years old, with a red floral kerchief tied around her head. Her heavily painted face looked gaudy, and her slanted eyes brimmed with smug amusement, as if enjoying a good joke.

Ying Su recognized her. On the day she had beaten Li Ergou, this woman had been gossiping at the side. Digging through Shen Cuihua’s memories, she recalled this woman was named Wang Lanhua. 

The grudge between them went back to when Wang Lanhua’s brat once threw stones at Shen Cuihua. After being chased and scared to tears, Wang Lanhua had tried to hit Shen Cuihua to “vent for her son,” but was stopped by Madam Li. Ever since, Wang Lanhua has borne a grudge.

“Well now, what are you up to so early in the morning? Everyone else is cooking, but Cuihua, what are you burning over there?” Her shrill, saccharine voice nearly pierced the eardrum.

Wang Lanhua’s slanted eyes narrowed into slits as she smirked. She had heard that someone smashed Shen Cuihua’s thatched hut yesterday. Such a delightful piece of gossip, how could she resist coming to gawk?

Ying Su frowned slightly, covered her ears with one hand, and continued calmly turning her roasted fish and meat, as though she hadn’t heard.

Wang Lanhua chuckled and stepped closer. Suddenly, the mouthwatering aroma of roasted meat hit her nose, and her expression changed. From behind, she had only seen firelight flickering before Ying Su, not what she was doing. Now that she was closer, she realized with surprise that Ying Su was roasting fish and meat.

Her face full of astonishment, she blurted, “Well, well, Cuihua, where’d you get fish and meat from?”

Ying Su’s lips curled in a mocking smile before shifting into a mild, harmless look. “I caught them from the river behind the house. The fish are so dumb, you just reach out and they come right up.”

Wang Lanhua curled her lips in open disbelief. She had come expecting to see Shen Cuihua’s misfortune, but instead found her roasting meat. Her mood soured instantly, and she couldn’t help but jab, “You? Catch fish? Who doesn’t know the Dongjun River is deep? Even the men don’t dare go down to grab fish…”