Traveling Through Those Years Of Farming (Quick Transmigration) - Volume 4 Chapter 5

That meal tasted like nothing to the Fu Shichun couple. Their private stash of money had always been hidden even from their own twins, afraid the children would spill something. So when the old woman unearthed a boxful of silver, the two children reacted with much surprise.

Fu Guangyuan only felt his grandfather was unfair. Since those seven taels were supposedly left behind by the ancestors, why were they only used to buy clothes for Little Uncle? Why not send him to school? It proved what his father said was right—inside this house, grandfather was not really their family.

“How exactly did you hide the money?!” Back in their room, Fu Shichun shut the door, lowered his voice, and demanded angrily.

“I definitely buried it tightly last time.” Ma Meifang felt wronged. 

She always hid the money in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep so no one would see her. Worried that loose soil would draw notice, she even hid the box under a large stone to hide the signs of digging. Who would ever guess they hid their private savings in such a place?

“Tightly buried… tightly buried…” Fu Shichun paced the room. “Buried tightly, yet how did that woman find it?”

He was certain it was her carelessness that left a trace.

This dumb loss—there was no way around it.

When the stepmother declared there were only seven taels inside, he had briefly thought of admitting the box was theirs and that it contained more. But he calmed quickly and squeezed his wife’s hand under the table, stopping her.

Ge Shiyan had chosen her number perfectly. Over the years, the money he turned in to the household, plus seven taels, matched roughly what he would have earned from odd jobs in the slow seasons.

If his father asked around the village, he would easily learn the standard wages. Fu Shichun had always claimed he worked fewer jobs because he didn’t want to be exhausted, so he earned less than others and turned in less. The extra income—the rewards for sweet-talking employers and some not-so-clean earnings—could never be explained properly.

Since Ge Shiyan had already offered up the box and controlled the narrative, if he now accused her of keeping money for herself, his father would never believe it. He would think the son was lashing out in shame and slandering the stepmother.

And if he came forward now, their hidden stash would be fully exposed.

In their village, children were not allowed private property before the family divided—unless elders permitted it. In the Fu family, none of the younger ones had such permission.

Fu Dayan valued his authority as family head. This time he had already given them face by treating the money as ancestral leftovers. If Fu Shichun pressed further, he would really offend the old man.

“Now the money is gone—what about our son? He’s smart and quick, definitely better at studying than that little bastard!”

Ma Meifang nearly cried. That was a huge sum, saved for years. And now it had all gone to Ge Shiyan’s trio.

“What do you expect me to do!” Fu Shichun snapped back. Still, even in his anger, he admitted she had a point.

His children were auspicious dragon-phoenix twins. From childhood they had been clever, destined to study. If they lost their chance to that cuckoo pair who stole his mother’s place, he would regret it forever.

He wanted his son to pass the exams and restore his face—prove to the old man which branch produced the truly promising children. Then he could drive out Ge Shiyan, the wicked woman who stole his mother’s spot.

“Tomorrow, go back to your parents’ home. See if you can borrow some silver. I’ll think of the rest.”

He knew the old man was still angry and would not give them money. They needed to provide first year’s tuition themselves. After one year, he would let his father compare the two boys and see for himself which was smarter. Then next year, the old man might choose differently.

His son was definitely better than Fu Shinian.

“My parents don’t have silver…” Ma Meifang’s face darkened. 

She had several brothers—their children didn’t study, so why would her parents lend money to an outsider’s child?

“If they won’t give it, borrow it. Even half a tael or a tael will do.”

Fu Shichun was full of schemes. In truth, that box was not all their savings—he had another private stash even his wife didn’t know about.

He could have paid for the first year from that secret fund, but he didn’t want his wife to discover it. So he deliberately insisted she go home and borrow money.

“You can probably borrow from Younger Sister too. Mingbai is only three; he’s far from school age.”

He had no intention of asking his sister. He only said this so he had an excuse for producing more money later.

“Younger Sister definitely has money.” Ma Meifang brightened. 

If they could get money from the sister, she wouldn’t have to shame herself at her parents’ house. A married daughter asking her maiden family for money—how could she lower her face?

“It’s all that old shrew’s fault! The Ge family is rich. Her younger brother and sister could easily give enough to send that bastard to school, yet she insisted on stealing our son’s chance! Just like the saying goes—stepmothers are venomous! Heaven has no eyes—twice already! Once her son didn’t drown, and this time that adopted brat didn’t die either!” Ma Meifang cursed viciously.

“Shut up!” Fu Shichun clapped a hand over her mouth and rushed to the door. He opened it and looked around.

The old man had gone back to his room for a nap. Ge Shiyan was washing dishes in the yard. Fu Shinian and Baobao were squatting beside her playing with water. They were far enough away not to hear anything.

“If you want to die, don’t drag me with you! If you hadn’t run your mouth before, would our son and daughter have dared to do something like that? You left a handle for that woman to grab!” He shut the door and glared fiercely. “Those things—bury them in your stomach. Never say them again.”

He kicked off his shoes, climbed onto the kang, pulled the quilt over half his body, and lay down.

They had to go back to work at the hour of Wei. If he didn’t sleep, he’d collapse this afternoon.

Left with a stomachful of grievance and yelled at by her husband, Ma Meifang’s resentment toward Ge Shiyan grew even stronger.

The next morning, Ge Shiyan made a large pot of vegetable porridge for the others, left it warming on the stove, told the old man briefly, then took her two children and silver and left for the county town.

A farmer in the neighboring village who raised oxen took passengers to town each morning. Two wen per adult, one wen per child, returning at the hour of Shen. The fare covered the round trip.

Before dawn, Ge Shiyan woke the children, fed them sesame cakes, and hurried to the ox cart.

They arrived early. Only two people were seated. She took out a padded cloth from her basket for her son, while Baobao sat in her lap.

Soon more women arrived, and the cart filled up. The last few could only wait until tomorrow.

“Hungry? Want to eat another sesame cake to fill your belly?”

She hadn’t dared let them eat much earlier. She planned to take them to eat the best wonton noodles in town.

The broth was fragrant, the noodles chewy, the wontons filled with meat. Add two wen and you got three fresh shrimp.

Two years ago, during New Year shopping, she brought them once. The children had eaten until their bellies rounded out. Baobao was only three then and had stared at every wonton with longing.

But a bowl cost six wen—twice the price of plain noodles, nine wen with shrimp. Too expensive for rural families. She hadn’t taken them again.

Now she no longer cared. If she saved money in the public fund, it would only benefit others. Better to spend boldly while the old man still felt guilty.

“Mother, I’m not hungry. I want to eat wontons later.” Fu Shinian remembered the taste from when he was five. “Baobao, don’t eat either. I’ll tell you a secret—if your belly is empty, you can eat one more shrimp!” He cupped his hands around her ear and whispered.

Wow—such a “big secret”!

Baobao didn’t remember the taste from two years ago, but she had no real expectations.

“When I can’t finish my food, you can have it.” Her little brother was too good—she couldn’t resist teasing him. She leaned close and whispered back.

“Baobao, you’re the best!” He beamed at her, not realizing a seven-year-old couldn’t possibly finish her bowl after finishing his own.

He sucked in a breath and puffed out his belly, tapping it proudly—hollow and ready.

Now he was no longer the five-year-old he was back then. His belly was big—so empty—

His little sister was so kind!

He grinned like a little puppy just fed scraps—utterly lovable.

Ge Shiyan watched the two children clinging to each other and felt her heart overflow. There was no room left for anyone else.

After a jostling ride, they reached the county town. Ge Shiyan immediately took the children to the noodle stall near the gate and ordered three bowls of wonton noodles.

Last time she only bought two and ate the scraps the children left. Today she would treat herself properly.

And since it was the eldest branch’s money, she not only didn’t feel guilty—she felt pleased.

The noodles were even tastier than Baobao expected. The wheat was fragrant, the noodles chewy, the wonton skins thin, the meat filling minimal but fresh, and the broth—a mix of seafood and pork bone—was rich and savory.

All three were starving; the flavor seemed ten times better.

Fu Shinian wanted to help Baobao finish her leftover noodles, but he was only seven. One bowl was already a full adult portion. He gave up halfway through the second attempt.

In the end, the remaining noodles were eaten by Ge Shiyan alone. Years of fieldwork gave her an appetite greater than most men.

Walking on the stone path with full bellies, the three felt blissful.

After breakfast, they began the real errands—new scholar robes and scholar supplies for Fu Shinian.

Ge Shiyan spared no expense. Fu Dayan said one set; she bought two, plus a slightly larger one for the future.

But she didn’t overdo it—she bought fine cotton, not silk. She also bought cotton for Baobao, planning to sew several outfits.

These alone cost one tael and three qian.

Buying cloth was cheaper than buying finished robes, but she didn’t know how to make scholar robes. Rural clothing was simple—tight sleeves and wide pants, different only in leg width between men and women. Scholar robes were complicated; she didn’t want her son laughed at.

Even more expensive were the scholar tools. She finally understood why rural families could not afford to educate children.

A basic inkstone, a stack of practice paper, and several writing brushes consumed seven taels.

The paper seller kindly told them beginners could practice with water instead of ink—letting the paper dry and reusing it eight or nine times.

She clicked her tongue as she left—but remembering these seven taels came from the “ancestral” fund, she felt immediately better.

She had more errands—salt was running out, she needed Cinnabar for rice balls later…

While buying herbs, Baobao was drawn to a street stall.

A crowd surrounded a peddler selling stones—stones that supposedly might contain jade.

Gambling stones—Baobao recognized it immediately.

But what pulled her in was the smell.

One round stone smelled like leftover greens stir-fried with mushrooms. Another long-round stone smelled like stale yellow croaker. A cracked stone with a hint of green smelled like over-roasted chicken wings.

Everything else smelled faintly like plain boiled water.

Baobao’s gaze locked onto a small stone in a corner—ordinary like a river pebble.

“Braised pork…”

After half a day walking and the morning’s noodles long digested, her mouth watered uncontrollably.

Most of all—that braised pork stone.

She was certain it came from the best fatty pork of a countryside black pig, slow-braised with star anise, cinnamon, bay leaves, and rock sugar in a clay pot until tender…

A stone with that smell must contain exceptional jade.

“Baobao wants braised pork? Let’s buy some!”

Ge Shiyan had just bought cinnabar when she heard Baobao muttering about braised pork. She immediately decided to buy meat for dinner.

Her little one had nearly died in the pond; of course she deserved good food now.

“Mother, I want that!” Baobao pointed at the braised-pork-smelling stone.

“You want that stone?”

Ge Shiyan hesitated. Stones were everywhere in the village. And there were nicer ones than this.

But her daughter rarely wanted anything so much—how could she refuse?

“Alright. Buy it.” She clenched her teeth and agreed. They’d just gained unexpected wealth after all.

She told herself again—it was the eldest branch’s money; no need to feel pain.

The stone looked terrible, so the jade seller didn’t value it highly. Seeing them as poor farmers, he gave a low price.

One tael.

Ge Shiyan inhaled sharply and was about to refuse when she saw Baobao’s eager eyes.

Gritting her teeth, she bargaining it all the way down to six hundred wen and finally bought the stone.

“If you like stones, I’ll pick some for you next time at the riverbank.”

She handed over the stone, not daring a second look—she feared she’d slap herself for spending six hundred wen on a pebble.

The stall offered free stone-cutting, but Baobao refused. She acted like a child simply fond of stones, hugging it tightly as they left.

She planned to grind the outer shell herself and surprise her mother.

Ge Shiyan also planned to grind the gold-plated layer off that fake hairpin and turn it into a ring. She wanted her daughter to see real valuables—so she wouldn’t be fixated on worthless stones in the future.

Each held thoughts for the other, while poor Fu Shinian—holding both their hands—became the unnecessary third wheel.

By the time they returned and walked back from the neighboring village, it was nearly the hour of You.

Smoke rose from every household—but not the Fu family. No smell of cooking.

Ge Shiyan’s face sank. She assumed Ma Meifang was giving her attitude by refusing to cook.

She walked into the main room sharply, ready to act like a proper “evil stepmother.”

Unexpectedly, the other family members were inside—and a few unfamiliar villagers as well.

Beside the old man stood a girl about Fu Shinian’s size—skinny like a skeleton, with unusually large eyes. When she saw the returning trio, she showed a stunned expression.

Ge Shiyan had never seen this girl—yet the girl clearly recognized her.

Why were Auntie and Little Cousin at the Fu family home? Lin Yu’s heart surged with emotion.

She remembered that in her last life, when she arrived at her uncle’s home, her aunt had already divorced him and taken her cousin away. She never knew why—the family avoided the subject.

Especially her uncle—after her aunt and cousin left, he seemed to age decades overnight.

Later, when she grew older and finally learned the truth, her uncle was already near death.

It was the greatest regret of his life.

But now, her aunt and cousin were here—alive, together. And standing beside them was a plump little girl. Their closeness made it obvious—this little girl must be the spark that, in her last life, eventually tore apart her aunt and uncle.

For some reason, in this life, that child had not died.

Lin Yu rubbed her eyes, overwhelmed. Her uncle had been the only one who treated her well. This time, she was determined—her uncle would not suffer that past fate.

She looked at Baobao and liked her instantly. She wanted this girl to grow up safe and well, so her aunt and uncle could grow old together without regrets.

But… would they like her?

Lin Yu bit her lip. She had never been a child anyone liked. Even her own parents found her unnecessary, giving her the name “Lin Yu”—extra, leftover.

And now, thin, dirty, and smelly as she was—even she disliked herself.