A brand-new kang, brand-new sheets and bedding—Qian Chunhua even hung curtains that suited the colors and style of the era on the windows.

Now that they had a bath barrel, the whole family could finally enjoy a proper bath tonight.

Taking advantage of the time while Qingsong and Xiaoling were at school in the afternoon, Qian Chunhua lit the new stove.

The new hearth was so efficient—just a handful of firewood into the fire hole, and it burned hot and steady, as if symbolizing the bright and prosperous future ahead for Qian Chunhua.

She boiled pot after pot of nearly boiling water, collecting it all into her space for later use.

While boiling water, she touched the kang—it was so warm.

Not just the kang, the whole room was toasty and comfortable.

Qingfeng, overjoyed, rolled happily back and forth across the kang.

Just then—bang bang bang—came the sound of someone knocking at the door.

It was Wang the stonemason, delivering the water jar.

Along with him appeared Li Cuihong from next door, though she didn’t dare approach the east courtyard and stood watching from the Zhao family’s main gate at a distance.

Qian Chunhua completely ignored her, focusing instead on inspecting the delivered goods.

She was very satisfied with the water jar, grain jars, and pickle urns, and promptly paid in full.

As she watched Qian Chunhua hand over hundreds of copper coins, Li Cuihong’s eyes bulged, feeling as if a huge chunk had been carved from her heart.

“This won’t do. I need to think of something,” Li Cuihong muttered, pacing anxiously.

She shot a look of contempt at Zhao Daqing, smoking in the main room, and Zhao Mother, who was dozing off.

These two old fools, useless to the core—couldn’t even control a daughter-in-law.

Cursing the old couple in her heart, Li Cuihong turned and went back to her own west wing room.

The west wing was empty—Zhao Yongqiang had taken Zhao Qingyun to the county town, where he loafed around until the afternoon before picking her up to go home.

Zhao Qingshui and Zhao Xiaojun had gone to Shizishan.

Now that the second branch had severed ties, the chores of gathering firewood and pigweed had fallen on the siblings.

In just five days, they were already whining in exhaustion.

After all, without the second branch’s blind and dutiful labor, and with Yongqiang and Li Cuihong being utterly selfish, they naturally wouldn’t toil themselves.

Qingyun was now the family’s hope and couldn’t be overworked either.

As for the two old ones, neither Zhao Yongqiang nor Li Cuihong dared make them do physical labor for now. So the chores naturally landed on Qingshui and Xiaojun.

At that moment, Qingshui was cursing under his breath as he scoured Shizishan.

The lower slopes had already been stripped bare of pigweed and wild vegetables—the entire village relied on the mountain, and the easily accessible areas were long picked clean.

To find anything, he had to climb higher.

Xiaojun was panting heavily, unwilling to go further.

She’d been pampered indoors for years and couldn’t endure the hardship—not even as much as Qingyun or Xiaoling.

“Big Brother, I can’t go on,” Xiaojun whined, glancing in disgust at the dust on her embroidered shoes.

Qingshui frowned and shouted, “Then what? Want to get yelled at again tonight?”

Exactly.

Without Qingsong as the family scapegoat, Qingshui and Xiaojun had become the new targets of their parents’ wrath.

Still, they were better off than Qingsong used to be—at least they weren’t beaten.

They were, after all, biological children, and Zhao Yongqiang and Li Cuihong weren’t heartless enough to lay a hand on them.

Xiaojun gestured for Qingshui to come closer and whispered mysteriously, “Big Brother, I have an idea.”

He walked over impatiently and snapped, “Spit it out, or I’ll smack you.”

He even waved his clenched fist for emphasis.

Xiaojun leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Since we can’t find wild greens, let’s go pull cabbage from Second Aunt’s and Third Uncle’s fields.”

Qingshui’s eyes lit up. “Great idea! Let’s go to Third Uncle’s first—he’s not in the village, and no one will notice if the cabbage disappears. If someone finds out, we’ll just deny it.”

Xiaojun nodded vigorously. “Mm-hmm!”

Qingshui took the lead, running down the hill. “Xiaojun, you’re so smart—almost as clever as Mom!”

Xiaojun beamed—she really did feel clever.

Not only had she solved their problem, but she also managed to harm both the second and third branches.

In her mind, only the main branch was clever and deserved a good life.

Clearly, these two siblings had already been thoroughly twisted by Zhao Yongqiang and Li Cuihong’s upbringing.

..

Meanwhile, Qian Chunhua was entirely unaware of the eldest branch’s scheming.

With the water jar in place, she headed to the Zhao family’s backyard to start hauling water, intending to fill the jar.

After all, if the jar suddenly filled itself without her doing anything, that might raise suspicion.

Especially since Li Cuihong was constantly watching her like a hawk.

But strangely, with Li Cuihong occasionally jumping out to cause trouble, Qian Chunhua actually found life more amusing.

In an era without TV or smartphones, Li Cuihong had basically become her source of daily entertainment.

At the well, she began drawing water.

The water level was already lower than usual, though not by much—it hadn’t rained in half a year, but most of Huanghualing hadn’t felt the effects of a drought yet.

In all of Huanghualing, only four households had private wells—most villagers relied on the communal village well.

This well at the Zhao home had been dug after the original body married in, when Zhao Yongcai felt sorry for his wife having to fetch water for cooking, so he paid for a private well in the backyard.

And now, that well was a blessing for Qian Chunhua.

Using a little “space cheating,” she carried two buckets the usual way, then used her space to fill two more—thus quickly filling the jar that required four buckets total.

For caution’s sake, she decided that water from this well would only be used for washing, while water for cooking would come from the spring atop Shizishan.

She’d tasted it earlier—it was sweeter and fresher than well water.

After busying around all afternoon, it was nearly time for the children to return from school.

Qian Chunhua began preparing dinner.

Since she had no time to cook ahead of time, she took out fifteen steamed buns from her space as the main staple.

She also made a pot of pork, cabbage, and glass noodles.

A simple yet hearty dinner was soon ready.

The smell of the braised pork and noodles wafted over the courtyard wall and straight into the Zhao family’s house.

It made Li Cuihong, sulking in the west wing, even more furious.

That second branch family—everything they used and ate should have belonged to her.

The pain of that thought alone made her feel ill, and when she smelled the meat, she was utterly sickened.

Too ill to get up and cook dinner, the chore fell to Zhao Mother and Zhao Xiaojun, who had just returned from stealing cabbages from Zhao Yongwen’s fields.

The siblings sneakily chopped up some of the stolen cabbage and fed it to the chickens and pigs.

Then, in perfect coordination, they hid the rest in the usual pigweed pile, carefully covering it with leftover old pigweed.