Chapter 10 – Simple

No rush. Take it slow. After all, her portable space wasn’t going anywhere. She needed to go out and take a look at her new home first.

This wasn’t the Gu family’s ancestral home. Gu Dapeng was the eldest son, and the two elders of the family had passed away long before Yan Fengru married into the family—so early, in fact, that they had died even before Gu Dapeng’s previous wife, Madam Jiang.

Gu Dapeng had two younger brothers and two younger sisters.

When the old couple of the Gu family passed away, Gu Dapeng and his siblings asked the village elders to divide the family property. This current home was one Gu Dapeng had bought land for and built himself in the village. As for grandeur—it wasn’t particularly fancy.

After all, when the elders of the Gu family passed, Gu Dapeng was still caring for his sickly wife, Madam Jiang. He didn’t have much money on hand.

Madam Jiang’s health had been poor ever since giving birth to Gu Caihe. In those days, living conditions were tough. Once your body suffered, if it wasn’t properly nursed back to health, it could easily deteriorate into chronic illness.

In short, no one knew exactly how, but Madam Jiang eventually passed after a few years of being sick.

Later, through a matchmaker, Gu Dapeng was introduced to Yan Fengru. Before marrying his new bride, he even had this courtyard renovated.

Although Gu Dapeng didn’t have much in savings at the time, if you were going to marry a new wife, things had to look decent.

In any case, the courtyard was spacious, though not particularly refined.

Its biggest advantage was the size—there was a front and a back yard. The path in the front courtyard was paved with smooth cobblestones, making it look clean and tidy.

On the left side, there was a chicken coop. The chickens inside were raised by Yan Fengru. A tall bamboo fence surrounded the coop, keeping the chickens contained—it looked just like a little poultry house.

Yet, the chicken house was quite clean. Gu Yuzhu saw her family’s chickens leisurely wandering around, and for once, she didn’t see any eye-burning piles of chicken droppings. There was no strong smell either.

Right away, Gu Yuzhu knew that her mother in this life, Yan Fengru, was a capable and efficient woman.

To the right, there was a well. Beside it, firewood was stacked neatly—chopped into uniform pieces, stacked two meters high against the wall. This showed that the man of the house was diligent and capable. Some of the shorter stacks had medicinal herbs from the countryside drying on top, along with a few pairs of straw sandals.

Not far from the firewood was a rack with a few clothes and a cotton quilt hanging out to dry.

Gu Yuzhu glanced at the tightly closed wooden door on the left and immediately lost interest.

In this house, the left and right were clearly separated.

The left side belonged to Gu Qingshan and his wife. Before Gu Caihe had married out, she also lived on the left. The right side was for Gu Dapeng, Yan Fengru, and the twin children.

The twins were still young, but Yan Fengru had long ago prepared rooms for each child. The right side had three rooms—Gu Dapeng and his wife had one, Gu Qingbai another, and the last one belonged to Gu Yuzhu. Her room was in the middle, with good ventilation and sunlight.

Gu Dapeng and his wife lived in the central main room. The room on the far right was Gu Qingbai’s. Next to it, built from yellow mud, gravel, and thatch, was a slightly lower annex. Upon entering, there were pots and pans, a large wooden cupboard with a padlock, a water vat, and a traditional clay stove. This was the kitchen.

Even from the courtyard, one could hear bubbling sounds coming from the kitchen. The rich aroma of chicken broth drifted out, making Gu Yuzhu swallow her saliva multiple times.

Tsk! It smells amazing!

Gu Yuzhu glanced toward the room belonging to Gu Qingshan and his wife. Not only was the door closed, but it had a big iron lock hanging on it—they were both out.

Because Yan Fengru was not the biological mother-in-law, she had always left Gu Qingshan and his wife to their own devices. Now that they’d completely fallen out, Yan Fengru didn’t even call them for meals anymore.

Gu Dapeng was caught in the middle and felt torn, but luckily, Gu Qingshan and his wife weren’t the type to seek abuse either.

Gu Qingshan had some skill—he was good at tending the fields and, during the off-season, worked as a hired hand in town. Recently, a wealthy household was building a courtyard, so Gu Qingshan had gone to help.

He had once learned carpentry and was fairly skilled. Though not extremely refined, he was willing to tinker, and the things he made were solid and affordable. Folks in the village liked hiring him.

Gu Yuzhu figured this cheap older brother of hers was definitely not easy to deal with. As for Gu Changwen, he had been sent back to his maternal grandmother’s house by Li Shi.

Li Shi’s family lived in the neighboring village, not far away. That village was called Sweetwater Village, and it shared the same river as Qingshan Village—Sweetwater was upstream, and Qingshan was downstream.

This bit of information was something Gu Yuzhu had heard while Yan Fengru was arguing with Gu Dapeng. She just pretended not to know.

After touring the front yard, Gu Yuzhu went to check out the backyard. There was a latrine back there, built quite sturdily—but it still smelled.

There were also a few vegetable plots. The cabbage and radishes growing there looked very healthy. Nearby, ginger and scallions were planted—their leaves thick and deep green. But after one glance at the latrine, Gu Yuzhu’s mood was… hard to describe.

Meanwhile, Yan Fengru kept an eye on the stove while also watching her youngest daughter. Seeing that she walked steadily, she felt even more reassured. She banked the fire under the stove to let the soup simmer.

Once the chicken broth smelled rich and fragrant, she lifted the pot, ladled out a chicken leg with thick broth into a bowl, let it settle, then carefully skimmed off the golden oil floating on top.

She figured her daughter had just recovered, and her stomach had gone without rich food for a while. Eating something too greasy all of a sudden might upset it.

Once that bowl was prepared, she ladled out another chicken leg and two drumettes—the latter looked like little chicken legs. These were for her son.

Then she served herself a bowl with a few meaty chunks—all parts with plenty of meat. She had her own money, and the chickens had all been raised by her bit by bit. Eating a few pieces of meat didn’t make her feel guilty at all.

After dividing up the meat for the three of them, there was only a chicken carcass left in the pot. Oh, and the chicken head and neck.

Her husband liked the chicken head. That old guy always said, “Better to be the head of a chicken than the tail of a phoenix.” Yan Fengru snorted.

He really had the nerve to say that?

One bowl of chicken bones, a chicken head, and a chicken neck—that was for the old man. As for the older couple’s side of the house—not even a drop of chicken broth was left.

In the past, Yan Fengru had never done things like this.

It felt undignified.

Now, Yan Fengru didn’t care about “dignity.” If the old man liked it, he could eat it. If not, too bad. He could think whatever he wanted.

When Gu Dapeng returned, he occasionally glanced toward the other side, but when he saw his wife’s righteous and justified expression, he had nothing to say.

The smell really was irresistible. Gu Yuzhu nearly swallowed her tongue from hunger.

Food cooked in a large iron pot over a wood fire really lived up to its reputation.

In her past life, the old Taoist priest had once said that wood fire was “yang fire,” and the food it produced nourished the body. If you paid attention, you could really taste the difference.

The chicken was stewed until it was tender and fell apart in the mouth. The chicken skin was soft but springy, the broth rich, sweet, and flavorful. Compared to the overly seasoned feed-raised chicken of the modern era, this was a completely different experience.

Now Gu Yuzhu finally believed that line from a food documentary in her past life, the one that had always been ridiculed online—

“The finest ingredients often only require the simplest cooking methods.”

Simple? Damn right it was simple!