At the third quarter of the Yin hour, the sun slanted westward.

Cheng Wanwan led her family members in a flurry of activity.

Zhao Sidaan had a simple task—go up the mountain to dig for wild vegetables, chop them up, and feed them to the chickens.

Zhao Sanniu and Zhao Ergou were responsible for loosening the soil.

They watered the hardened vegetable plots in front and behind the house before digging and turning the soil, preparing it for planting the next day.

Meanwhile, Zhao Dashan was making ice jelly under Cheng Wanwan’s direction.

She placed a small half-bowl of stone flower seeds into a cloth bag, soaking it in a basin of water, rubbing and pounding it continuously until the clear water gradually thickened.

Half a pound of stone flower seeds turned into a large basin of thick, unformed ice jelly.

The cool mountain spring water was perfect for chilling it. She set the jelly in the water to solidify.

While waiting, Cheng Wanwan instructed her sons to gather hawthorn fruits from the mountain.

It was the season for ripe hawthorn, and adding diced hawthorn to the jelly would create a sweet and tangy flavor—irresistible after just one bite.

Meanwhile, she and Wu Huiniang boiled brown sugar syrup in a pot.

She planned to make two flavors: hawthorn ice jelly and brown sugar ice jelly, unsure which would be more popular.

Watching her mother-in-law pour a large box of brown sugar into the pot, Wu Huiniang felt an ache in her heart.

These days, meat was expensive, and so was brown sugar.

The amount they used was worth at least fifty or sixty coins.

Could something as common as ground cherries from the mountain really earn back that much money?

She doubted that ground cherries could make anything delicious, but she never questioned her mother-in-law’s decisions.

Whatever Cheng Wanwan said, she did.

As the brown sugar syrup finished cooking, Zhao Sidaan rushed inside, carrying a bundle of hawthorn fruits.

“Sidaan is amazing!” Cheng Wanwan praised him generously. “When the ice jelly is ready, the first bowl will be yours.”

Zhao Sidaan licked his lips, his eyes fixed eagerly on the jelly chilling in the spring water.

Cheng Wanwan dried her hands and used a pair of chopsticks to poke the jelly in the water basin.

It was still unformed.

It had been nearly an hour—by right, it should have started solidifying.

Had she forgotten a step?

She sat down, racking her brain, recalling every detail of the time she made ice jelly in Xinyang… Then it clicked.

She had indeed missed something!

Back then, while she was washing the stone flower seeds, a staff member had added some powder to the mixture.

That must have been the key to solidifying the jelly.

Zhao Sidaan squatted by the basin, his big eyes blinking. “Mom, can we eat it yet?”

Zhao Ergou secretly dipped a finger in and tasted it.

His eyes lit up. “It’s cold and refreshing—delicious!”

“Really?” Zhao Sidaan couldn’t resist.

He scooped up a little with a spoon and put it in his mouth.

Smacking his lips, his eyes sparkled. “Mom, what is this? It’s perfect for hot weather—I love it! This will definitely sell!”

Cheng Wanwan looked at the large basin of failed jelly and sighed. “It’s edible, but not good enough to sell. We have to try again.”

Wu Huiniang hesitantly asked, “Mother, did I mess up somewhere?”

From start to finish, she had followed instructions carefully.

She was afraid that a single mistake could ruin her mother-in-law’s business.

Cheng Wanwan shook her head. “No, it’s my fault—I forgot to add something. You all eat a bowl first, then get ready for dinner. I need to think.”

She walked to the backyard, letting the breeze clear her mind.

But in her past life, she had only been a tourist.

She hadn’t paid attention to what that mysterious powder was. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t remember.

Feeling frustrated, she suddenly slapped her forehead. “How stupid of me.”

She had a trading shop!

The shop had books—it was practically an encyclopedia.

She could just buy a book on making ice jelly!

She searched the shop and, sure enough, found an ice jelly recipe for just eight coins.

Flipping through it, she found the key ingredient—lime powder, which helped the jelly solidify.

Lime powder should exist in this era, but probably not in Dahe Village.

She could buy it from the shop, but in the future, this skill would be passed down to Wu Huiniang. Where would Wu Huiniang get lime powder?

She continued reading, but the cheap recipe was disappointingly basic. It didn’t even list any substitutes for lime powder.

Frustrated, she tried to recall lime powder’s properties—and suddenly, she had an idea. What if she replaced it with starch?

Without hesitation, she tested her theory.

She bought some common village ingredients from the shop—cornstarch, wheat flour, and sweet potato starch—then returned to the front yard.

The four boys were each clutching a bowl of failed ice jelly, taking small sips, smacking their lips after each one.

It was a funny sight.

“This whole basin is a failed batch. If you drink too much now, you won’t have room for the real thing later.” Cheng Wanwan chuckled and shook her head. “Since there’s still daylight left, come help out.”

She divided the stone flower seed mixture into small basins, adding cornstarch, wheat flour, and sweet potato starch to separate portions before placing them in the well water to chill.

While waiting, she and Wu Huiniang prepared dinner.

As usual, the meal consisted of wild vegetables and mushrooms—nothing new. The biggest shortage in the house was meat, and there was no justifiable reason to buy any.

But in Dahe Village, even wild vegetables and mushrooms with white rice were considered the best meal around.

By the time dinner ended, the sky had darkened.

Cheng Wanwan checked the test batches.

The one with sweet potato starch had solidified the fastest, forming a jelly-like consistency.

A little more time, and it would be ready.

She got up to prepare the toppings.

Taking out all the bowls in the house, she filled half with diced hawthorn and the other half with thick, black brown sugar syrup.

Finally, she cut the solidified jelly into small cubes, placing six pieces in each bowl before arranging them carefully in a bamboo basket.

There were only eight bowls, and the basket could hold no more. Carrying it, she stepped out of the house.

Some farmers were still in the rice fields nearby.

After nearly two months of drought, their rice finally had water.

Many old farmers lingered in their fields, walking back and forth in disbelief, afraid that this was just a dream.

As Cheng Wanwan passed by, many villagers greeted her—something that had never happened before.

She carried the basket to the Zhao family’s house, where the entire family was cooling off in the courtyard.

“Dashan’s wife, you’re finally here,” Old Madam Zhao said, eyeing the basket in her hands. “You really made something to eat?”

Cheng Wanwan nodded. “A few days ago, I had the children gather ground cherries. I used them to make this. It’s my first attempt, so I don’t know how it tastes yet. If you like it, I’ll take some to town tomorrow and see if anyone will buy it.”

She placed the eight bowls on the table.

But there were twelve people in the Zhao family.

Before she could suggest that the children eat the test batches at her house, Sun Shi (Madam Sun) quickly spoke up.

“Chunhua, Donghua, what are you waiting for? Hurry up and grab a bowl—if you’re late, there won’t be any left!”

Sun forced a smile.

Their eldest sister-in-law was too stingy—bringing only eight bowls when there were twelve people?

If Grandma refused to let the girls have any, their third branch would lose out entirely.

No matter how you counted it, their family was at a disadvantage.