After the fangirls from Huanghua Ridge had left, Qian Chunhua welcomed the first wave of customers at her newly opened tea stand.

A couple with their child, worn out after walking all morning, were delighted to see the tea stand and walked in with relief.

“Welcome,” Qian Chunhua greeted them warmly.

Behind the counter, Qian’s mother mimicked her greeting style, hoping she could do the same when future customers arrived.

Seeing that the shopkeeper was a woman, the couple paused, slightly surprised.

The woman asked, “Do you have something warm to drink?”

Qian Chunhua pointed to a wooden board hanging on the wall and said, “Plain tea is two copper coins per cup. Brown sugar ginger tea is also two coins per cup. Boiled water is one coin per cup.”

She had based her pricing on what was typical in the county seat.

Tea and ginger tea were uniformly two coins a cup, and refills were one coin.

Noodles were ten coins a bowl, with an egg for an extra three.

Steamed buns were two coins each, and meat buns were three.

Qingsong had written all these prices on the wooden board at the entrance.

For the characters he didn’t know, he asked Mr. Qian at the school for help and only wrote them once he had learned.

Seeing his handwriting publicly displayed by his mother filled Qingsong with a mix of embarrassment and pride.

Villagers from Huanghua Ridge thought the prices were too steep, but Qian Chunhua didn’t pay them much mind.

Her tea stand was meant to serve travelers in need—scarcity was her selling point.

With future disasters and unrest looming, prices were bound to go up, not down.

The couple gave an awkward smile.

They couldn’t read, so the wooden board was meaningless to them.

The man said, “Two cups of brown sugar tea, please.”

The woman glanced at him. He whispered, “I’m not thirsty. Just get one cup for you and the child.”

She understood the household situation well.

If they hadn’t gone a full night and day without food or water, she probably wouldn’t have splurged even on the tea.

Though their voices were low, Qian Chunhua heard everything and immediately guessed that the couple must be strapped for cash.

“What food do you have?” the man asked next.

By then, Qian’s mother had already fetched two cups of brown sugar tea and carefully handed them to the woman.

Qian Chunhua replied, “Noodles are ten coins a bowl. Add an egg for three. Steamed buns are two each, meat buns three.”

The man let out a breath of relief.

The prices weren’t as bad as he feared.

On their journey, food prices had become unpredictable.

They’d had no choice but to suffer through long stretches of hunger, eating only when absolutely necessary.

“Three bowls of noodles and ten buns,” the man ordered.

He planned to save the extra buns for the road.

Qian Chunhua acknowledged the order and went to the kitchen to prepare the food.

Though the couple seemed pitiful, Qian Chunhua knew she was running a business, not a charity.

She still intended to make a profit.

Even so, when she cooked the noodles, she gave them each an extra generous portion.

When the three large, steaming bowls of noodles were brought out, the couple looked at her gratefully before digging in.

The child couldn’t even finish his portion.

Once the woman was full, the man unhesitatingly poured the remaining noodles into his own bowl and ate every last bite—right down to the broth.

When it was time to pay, the total came to 54 coins.

The woman carefully took out a small pouch hidden deep inside her clothes.

She unfolded a handkerchief, counted out 54 coins, and handed them over to Qian Chunhua.

Just as Qian Chunhua was about to ask them about the outside situation, the woman spoke first.

“How far is it to Nanzhou County from here?”

“A little over ten li.”

“Then we’re nearly there.”

“Are you going to seek refuge with relatives?”

“With my mother.”

“Where did you come from? You don’t sound like you’re from Yongning Prefecture.”

…

From that brief exchange, Qian Chunhua not only learned about the couple’s circumstances, but also gathered new information about the world outside.

They had fled from Bingzhou.

Unlike their fellow villagers who mostly headed north to the capital, this family had chosen to go south, seeking the woman’s mother in Nanzhou.

They said the road to the capital was filled with bandits.

Many refugees had nowhere else to go and ended up joining those very bandits—just to survive.

Their journey from Bingzhou had started off in relative order, but things quickly fell into chaos.

When they passed through Ganzhou, even the local officials had fled.

It wasn’t until they entered Yongning Prefecture that they found some semblance of stability, though prices had skyrocketed.

After the family left, Qian’s mother was still immersed in the joy of her daughter’s shop finally earning money—but she was also shocked by what the woman had said.

If this kept up, even Yongning Prefecture wouldn’t remain safe for long.

At that moment, she finally understood why her daughter had insisted on stockpiling food earlier.

If things continued to spiral, even without natural disasters, daily life would become unbearable for most.

For now, though, Yongning Prefecture remained peaceful.

After the tea stand opened, Qian Chunhua’s life finally settled into a rhythm.

Business wasn’t as brisk as Qian’s mother had imagined, but it was just as Qian Chunhua had expected.

She never intended to rely on the tea stand for major profits—she just needed a visible source of income.

Mornings were slow. Most of the business came in the afternoons, and even then, customers usually just bought a cup of hot tea or brown sugar water.

Those who were truly hungry might get a bowl of noodles or a couple of buns.

The shop made about fifty coins per day. Not great, but steady income nonetheless. Qian’s mother could rest easier about her daughter’s future.

In the mornings, when there were no customers, Qian’s mother tended to chores at home—feeding the pigs and chickens, cleaning, doing laundry.

She’d come to help at the tea stand in the afternoons.

If someone showed up unexpectedly in the morning and they were understaffed, Qian Chunhua would send Qingfeng to fetch her grandmother.

Without her mother around in the morning, Qian Chunhua used the quiet time to make meat buns, steamed buns, and cooked dishes to store in her space.

At midday, the entire family would gather at the tea stand for lunch, including Qian’s mother and Qian Xingshan.

Initially, Qian’s mother refused to eat there.

She thought her daughter worked too hard to feed more mouths.

But Qian Chunhua insisted—if her mother didn’t accept lunch as a form of “payment” for her help, then she wouldn’t be allowed to help at all.

Left with no choice, Qian’s mother agreed to bring her son and eat at the tea stand.

It turned out to be a good decision—sharing meals brought the family closer together.

Ten more days passed. It had now been exactly one month since Qian Chunhua transmigrated into the Ming Dynasty.

She had adapted to the slower pace of life, raising three children with contentment.

If not for the constant news of disasters and war from outside…

She would have said this was exactly the life she had always dreamed of.