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By midafternoon, father and son returned home with their baskets full.
Meiniang held two bolts of cloth, a mixture of amusement and exasperation on her face. “Didn’t I tell you to only buy one bolt? One set for each of you? I made new clothes a few days ago; this is such a waste.”
Wan Changsheng chuckled, “One bolt costs three hundred wen; it’s not that expensive. I thought this light pink would look good on you. The cloth cost six hundred wen, and we bought inexpensive writing supplies for about one tael. We spent another two hundred wen on other things. Here’s the remaining four taels and eight hundred wen. Keep it safe.
Ping’an, keep these six taels and one hundred wen. Save it.”
Ping’an felt a little embarrassed. “Father, maybe I shouldn’t take it this time. The writing supplies were for me too.”
Wan Changsheng laughed, “Take it, and hide it well. The writing supplies aren’t from your money.”
Ping’an took the money with a grin and ran back to his room.
“Why did you let him keep the money? He’s so young.” Meiniang asked.
Wan Changsheng glanced at her. Seeing the smile on her face, he knew she was pleased.
“I have made an agreement with the child. Besides, we made a good profit this time. Those Sanqi sold for twelve taels. I’ve walked that path countless times and never saw them. Ping’an is lucky.”
Meiniang smiled sweetly, “My Ping’an has always been lucky. Before, when I went out with him, he always found something—even money.”
“Wife, I have a question. Has Ping’an always had such a good memory?”
“Yes, when he was very young, I taught him characters, and he remembered them immediately. He often practiced writing on the ground using the books at home as a guide. My handwriting isn’t good, but I could tell his was neat and orderly.”
“Wife, today, while I weighed the herbs with the attendant, he borrowed an herb book from Doctor Sun. Doctor Sun tested him, asking him to memorize the names, uses, and properties of the herbs on ten pages within fifteen minutes, and he didn’t make a single mistake.”
Meiniang’s eyes crinkled with laughter. “My Ping’an has always been smart. When he was only a few months old, he understood when I spoke to him. At five, he was already raising chickens to earn money. Husband, don’t blame him for valuing money; he’s been poor for too long.”
“Silly wife, Ping’an is my son. He’s so sensible; he won’t waste his money. Besides, it’s his own earnings. I’ll definitely send him to school in early August. Such talent would be wasted if he didn’t study.”
Ping’an hid the money, determined to accept it, no matter what.
This way, their agreement wouldn’t be empty words. Everything would proceed as planned.
With financial independence, he could do what he wanted, without having to ask for every coin.
In the future, he would take good care of his parents.
He opened the “Baicao Collection” and discovered it had over two hundred pages, each with about two types of herbs.
That meant there were four to five hundred herbs in total.
Doctor Sun had given him three months. If possible, he wanted to copy it all. He had the writing supplies, but he was only seven years old, and with only the few characters he had learned from his mother, copying the whole book would be impossible.
And what about the illustrations?
Oh well, he would have to memorize it within those three months.
After two quarters of an hour, he had roughly flipped through the book, and he knew most of the herbs; only a few were unfamiliar, as his main focus was Western medicine, and he had self-studied Chinese medicine.
He carefully put the book away. In three months, he would memorize it perfectly. When it came to memory, he wouldn’t be exaggerating to call himself a genius.
…
The next morning, father and son decided to go to the mountains in the morning and help plant the vegetable patch in the afternoon. Spring planting would begin in the next two days.
Ping’an, having helped his mother in the fields for the past two years, was shocked to discover that they simply scattered seeds directly into the soil instead of using seedlings.
No wonder the yields weren’t high.
However, having lived to sixty, he wasn’t foolish enough to mention this.
What good would it do him?
A young child and a widow; those with ill intentions could easily steal the credit, or even worse.
“Don’t bite off more than you can chew,” as the old saying goes. Without sufficient status, one had to keep a low profile to survive.
In the Chang family, there was only one mu of land; in the Wan family, there was also only one mu of land. It made little difference whether the yield was high or low.
When their circumstances improved, it would be best to move—to a place where no one knew them—and start a family. That way, even if his biological father was still alive and found them, he couldn’t be controlled.
Meiniang saw the father and son off and busied herself with household chores—cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, and planting seeds. After planting the main crops, she could plant more around the edges.
Living at the foot of the mountain had its advantages; there was no need to compete with others for small plots of wasteland.
On the day of her return visit to her family, she had asked her mother for some vegetable seeds, but it wasn’t enough.
A family of three needed to eat every day, and any excess could be dried for later use. No one would object to having extra food.
After finishing her chores, Meiniang took her farming tools to the field. It was late March, and the sun was strong. She would have to return home for lunch; three meals a day were essential.
As for Ping’an, as soon as he reached the slope, he discovered two herbs mentioned in the book. When he told his father, Wan Changsheng immediately said that there were many of these herbs near the place where they set traps.
Since there were many, they should collect them. This herb was mentioned on the second page of the book, and if it was featured so prominently, the medicine shop wouldn’t refuse it.
Along the way, they also found two honeysuckle plants in full bloom, their buds still tight. In a few days, they would be overripe and harder to sell.
After an hour, their baskets were full. The herbs weren’t particularly valuable today, except perhaps for some Astragalus that Ping’an had found.
Astragalus was usually harvested in autumn, but it was most effective in spring, especially the ones they found, which were of good quality.
Wan Changsheng couldn’t help but marvel at the child’s good fortune. Usually, his monthly income rarely exceeded two taels of silver.
But two days ago, it was the Sanqi, seven plants in one discovery, and today, it was Astragalus, and not just young roots. This herb, when stewed with red dates and goji berries, was highly beneficial for women, so the price wouldn’t be low.
Ping’an was about to put on his basket when a large hand took it away. “Father won’t gather firewood today; I’ll carry these.”
“Okay, thank you, Father.”
With his thin arms and legs, he wouldn’t compete with an adult. In his previous life, he was 1.83 meters tall, but in this life, at over seven years old, he was still this small. It was likely that his mother and he had suffered greatly these past years.
As they reached the edge of the vegetable patch, they heard a sharp voice from an old woman.
Wan Changsheng frowned, quickly taking a few steps and hiding the two baskets under the shade of a tree, covering them with grass.
Then, he took his son’s hand and walked home. Seeing the child looking at him, he quickly said, “It’s alright. It’s a distant relative. Father doesn’t want her to see the herbs. It’s troublesome.”
Ping’an didn’t say anything, but judging by the increasingly loud voice, he knew it wasn’t going to be good.
He hated trouble the most. If his stepfather didn’t handle this well, he would be disappointed.
He had lost his parents, and his elder brother, out of guilt, couldn’t interfere with his family affairs. The rest of his relatives weren’t important. It was unacceptable for his new wife to suffer because of some irrelevant people.