The house was filled with a delicious aroma.

The four boys ate heartily, and Wu Huiniang drank an entire bowl of wild vegetable porridge.

Wang Damei was stunned.

Her mother often said that the family next door lived a miserable life, that Brother Dashan’s wife never had enough to eat—but was this what “not having enough to eat” looked like?

Why did it feel like her own family was struggling even more?

“Damei, hurry up and eat,” Cheng Wanwan said. “There’s work for you later.”

Eating this much early in the morning—this probably wasn’t going to be easy work.

After a fierce internal struggle, Wang Damei finally gave in to the delicious food and finished her bowl of porridge.

“Here!” Zhao Sidan shoved two sugar-roasted chestnuts into her hands. “Damei-jie used to secretly give me cornbread. Now I can finally give you something to eat too!”

Wang Damei actually never had much food herself—everything good at home had to be saved for her younger brother.

But Sidan was sometimes too pitiful, standing under the big tree between their houses, staring at her with his mouth watering, drooling so much it soaked his clothes.

She had no choice but to break off a little piece of cornbread for him.

She never expected that her small act of kindness would be remembered.

After breakfast, a busy day began.

Cheng Wanwan had Damei stay behind to help Wu Huiniang dig for wild vegetables along the field ridges. She could go home after that.

Wang Damei was full of confusion.

That bag of grain they had—it was enough to feed her family for two or three days, yet they still had her dig for wild vegetables?

Sidan knew how to dig too, so why ask her specifically?

Why did it feel like Aunt Zhao was just trying to help her out?

Meanwhile, Cheng Wanwan took her four sons up the mountain.

After making half a tael of silver yesterday, today they needed to keep up the momentum.

Before they even reached the mountain, they ran into a familiar face.

It was her co-sister-in-law, the wife of Zhao San from the Zhao family, leading her daughter Chunhua up the mountain with a basket to gather wild vegetables.

Zhao San’s wife, Sun Shi, greeted her with a smile. “I haven’t seen you in days, Sister-in-law. You look fairer than before.”

Cheng Wanwan’s mouth twitched.

She didn’t have a mirror, but she could see her hands—rough palms, dark-skinned backs—classic signs of a farmwoman.

When she had enough money, she was definitely buying some whitening skincare products.

In the modern world, she had been thirty-three, but people always said she looked like she was in her early twenties.

Yet in ancient times, at thirty-three, she was already considered an old woman who would soon have grandkids.

Life expectancy here was too short. Some women in the village were already being called “old grannies” in their thirties…

Luckily, she still had in-laws, so for now, no one was calling her “Old Zhao Woman.”

Cheng Wanwan silently mourned for herself, then said, “The sun’s not too high yet. Let’s hurry up the mountain.”

Her four sons had already dashed ahead.

She quickened her pace to catch up, and Sun Shi followed along, casually commenting, “You look like you’ve gained some weight, Sister-in-law. Eating meat really nourishes a person.”

At those words, Cheng Wanwan nearly exploded.

It was bad enough being old and dark-skinned—but fat too?! Old, dark, and fat—this was unacceptable!

She immediately stopped. “I really gained weight?!”

Honestly, even if she had been eating meat every day, it wouldn’t show that quickly.

Sun Shi was just using the topic to steer the conversation. “Sister-in-law, you’ve given a lot of money to your family over the years. Now that you’ve cut ties, did they return any of it?”

Cheng Wanwan instantly saw through her.

She was trying to figure out how much money she had.

She recalled how the original owner used to interact with her sisters-in-law.

Back when the family hadn’t split, the third branch lived together with them.

As the eldest daughter-in-law, with a husband in the military and four sons, the original owner had been highly respected.

The two younger sisters-in-law never dared to offend her, and she always acted superior to them.

Later, when her husband died in battle, she fought with the Zhao family over his pension and completely severed ties.

She had barely interacted with her sisters-in-law since.

“My eldest nephew needs money for his studies. That silver was spent long ago. None of it came to me,” Cheng Wanwan said, then smoothly changed the topic. “Chunhua’s mother, do you know how much grain the old lady still has?”

Zhao Chunhua immediately blurted out, “Last night, Grandma took ten pounds of buckwheat flour to our room and hid it in—”

Sun Shi yanked her daughter behind her.

How could they let the eldest sister-in-law know how much grain they had?

What if she moved back in?

The old lady still had a soft spot for her eldest daughter-in-law since she had given birth to four grandsons. If she insisted on moving back, she’d probably succeed.

“There’s not much grain left! The kids are so hungry they’re getting dizzy!”

Sun Shi didn’t dare continue the conversation, afraid her daughter’s loose lips would reveal everything.

Cheng Wanwan was happy for the peace and quiet.

The group headed deeper into the mountains.

A few days ago, this area had been untouched. But now, everything had been picked clean.

They had to go even deeper.

Cheng Wanwan wanted to find matsutake mushrooms again, so she planned to go further.

Zhao San’s wife kept following her, still trying to figure out how Cheng Wanwan could afford to eat meat.

She asked repeatedly, but Cheng Wanwan ignored her.

And she kept walking deeper and deeper into the forest.

Sun Shi glanced at the sky. The sun was getting higher, and the wild vegetables were starting to wilt. She had to fill her basket by noon, or the old lady would get mad.

Just then, she spotted a large patch of fresh, untouched wild greens. She quickly squatted down to gather them.

Zhao Chunhua followed her but then noticed Cheng Wanwan slipping into a thicket, crouching low, as if searching for something.

She licked her lips.

Did her eldest aunt find something valuable?

Was that why she had money for meat?

Her eyes darted slyly, and she quietly followed.

Meanwhile, Cheng Wanwan led her four sons deeper.

When they saw mushrooms or wild vegetables along the way, she had the boys gather them while she continued on alone. Even if she couldn’t find matsutake, some boletus mushrooms would be nice too.

She pushed through thorny bushes and parted wide leaves—only to find an open valley ahead.

Between two mountains, a natural basin had formed.

The valley was full of withered lotus plants.

That meant that just a month or two ago, this had been a lotus pond.

In this era, lotuses were a southern crop and hadn’t been introduced to this central region yet. Some migrating birds or animals must have brought the seeds, creating this natural pond.

But the people of Dahe Village had lived in the mountains for generations.

Even if they had seen lotuses before, they wouldn’t recognize them.

And they certainly wouldn’t know that beneath the lotus-filled mud, edible lotus roots were growing.

Lotus root was a delicacy.

In some dynasties, it was even a tribute offering to the imperial court.

Cheng Wanwan’s eyes gleamed as she gazed at the dried-up mud.

Her mind filled with images of stir-fried lotus slices, lotus root meatballs, sweet-and-sour lotus patties, spicy lotus root cubes…

She swallowed hard, grabbed a thick wooden stick, and jumped into the dried-up pond.

The hardened mud was difficult to dig through, and she nearly blistered her hands before finally pulling out a lotus root as long as her arm.

She snapped it in half—it had seven holes, wild-grown, white and fragrant.

Unfortunately, the drought had stunted its growth. It wasn’t thick or powdery enough, and the system marketplace didn’t even list a price for it.

She tossed it into her basket, stood up, and surveyed the three or four acres of lotus fields before her—deep in thought.