Chapter 6: The Stove

“I feel like I vaguely remember something, but when I try to think more carefully… I just can’t recall anything at all.”

Xia Daohua tried hard to remember, but she truly couldn’t.

Her memories from the modern world—including everything she had experienced, the things people said to her, what she said to others, the novels she read, even the random websites she’d browsed—she could recall all of it clearly.

But the original host’s memories were scattered—only fragments and random scenes remained.

Much of the original host’s memory was missing.

Of course, there were occasional memory fragments that would get triggered by chance. Like the time when her grand-uncle visited—she had suddenly remembered the face of one of his cousins.

Fortunately, the royal physician Wang had already explained this situation to the Xia family.

Back then, when the family saw how badly she was injured, they thought it was a miracle she had even survived. As for forgetting her past? Compared to her life, that was nothing.

So what if she had to relearn who her relatives and neighbors were? What was the big deal?

As long as she wasn’t dead, disabled, paralyzed, or mentally impaired—being alive, healthy, and whole was better than anything!

Xia Daohua didn’t know about their thoughts. She only had one belief: Royal Physician Wang was her benefactor.

He had saved the original host’s life and, in doing so, created the opportunity for her to transmigrate here.

He had cleared the obstacles in her path. With the royal physician’s prior explanation, no one would suspect anything unusual when she occasionally behaved oddly.

Everyone would simply attribute any changes in her personality or behavior to the head injury and the resulting memory loss.

She really owed him a lot!

Seeing Xia Daohua staring blankly into space, seemingly lost in thought, Lihua quickly tried to comfort her:

“Aiya, never mind! I was just asking casually. Don’t stress about it, Daohua. Hurry up and eat—your food will get cold soon!”

Xia Daohua snapped back to reality and gave Lihua an embarrassed smile before continuing her meal.

Just a moment ago, the sticky bean buns were still hot enough to burn her mouth, but now they were the perfect temperature.

Lihua was right—it really was cold.

Especially here in the main room. Even though a thick curtain hung over the doorway and the window panes were sealed with double layers of paper, it still felt chilly.

Well, it was only a dozen days until the New Year, after all!

If only the house could be a little warmer…

But unfortunately, there were no boilers, no radiators—let alone electric heaters or electric blankets! In winter, the only ways to keep warm were the kang (heated brick bed), stoves, and charcoal braziers. It was tough.

Oh, and there was also the forerunner to the modern hot water bottle: the hand warmer.

But those were expensive, just like portable stoves. They were luxuries reserved for wealthy households. Common folk couldn’t afford them at all.

After breakfast, as Lihua and Wulang cleared the table, the quarrel in the main kitchen had finally ended.

Because Jiang, persuaded by her children, hadn’t gone over to intervene, the two sisters-in-law had escalated their fight on their own. It got so bad that they started shoving each other—and even broke a bowl during the scuffle.

The sound of breaking dishes startled the old matriarch, Zhou-shi.

She came over and gave both daughters-in-law a good scolding. Then she dragged her two sons over and lectured them until their faces turned as purple as eggplants.

After making a scene all morning, the other branches of the family had seen enough drama. The second and third sons were both fuming with anger, and their wives—Sun-shi and Wu-shi—finally quieted down.

Zhou-shi made them both stand in the kitchen as punishment.

Then, she personally cooked a batch of hand-pulled noodles using the big pot. She, the old master, and Xia Yujiao ate it themselves.

As for the second and third households, they gathered in the main kitchen and made do with the leftover noodle soup and cold cornbread.

Zhou-shi watched coldly, not saying a word.

When she saw that everyone’s faces were burning red, as if they’d been dusted with chili powder, she finally spoke and sent Erlang running to fetch the village mason, Old Chen.

She instructed the sons who had separated their households to each pick a spot and build their own kitchen stoves.

As for the main kitchen, from now on it would be used only by the old couple. During holidays or major gatherings, whoever needed to use it would have to ask them first.

However, even though Zhou-shi was the one who called the mason, each family had to pay for their own stove construction.

The newly minted mistresses of the house, who had just received their portion of the household silver, hadn’t even had a chance to warm it in their palms before having to fork it over. Each one was heartbroken—even Jiang looked a little disappointed.

But Lihua and the other kids were already excitedly dreaming of life with their own kitchen:

“From now on, we can make our own special meals!” Lihua said excitedly, her cheeks flushing like a bright red apple.

“Mhm! Sis, I want roasted taro!” Linghua’s eyes sparkled, and there was even a suspicious glint of drool at the corner of her lips—as if she could already see the steaming sweet taro in front of her.

“Taro? That’s nothing! I’ll go into the mountains and find some wild game. We’ll cook it in our little kitchen!” Xia Daohua declared boldly, waving her hand dramatically.

In her heart, she thought: Even if she didn’t find any wild game, no problem—she had an entire supermarket, after all!

The usually calm Wulang suddenly burst out laughing, clutching his stomach:

“Haha! You’re killing me! Just look at how tiny you are—and you want to go into the mountains to hunt wild animals? Be careful not to get snatched by a big bad wolf and become its meal!”

Daohua pouted and tugged on Lihua’s sleeve:

“Sis, did you hear that? He’s laughing at me! Quick, help me hit him a couple of times!”

The children laughed and joked, their playful banter filling the room with warmth and cheer. Even Jiang couldn’t help smiling.

Thinking about having their own kitchen—being able to keep the fire going a little longer in the evening, boil water at night without disturbing anyone, and make the house warmer—Jiang’s smile deepened.

Old Chen brought his son and two apprentices, and in just over a day, they had built stoves for the second, third, fourth, and fifth households.

The fourth branch even had two extra small tea stoves built—one in the kitchen, one in the main room.

It was the dead of winter, and they couldn’t make mud bricks, so they had to buy some broken green bricks from the kiln in town. Fortunately, since all four households bought together, the large order meant the price was a bit more reasonable.

In the end, for the stove project, the old matriarch Zhou-shi paid the advance for the eldest branch, while the other branches covered their own expenses. The fourth branch paid a total of 185 copper coins.

Of that, 60 wen went to the bricks, 100 wen to labor, and 25 wen was used to buy vegetables and cook food to host Old Chen and his crew.

Xia Daohua quietly prepared a ledger and recorded all the details.

She had loved bookkeeping ever since she learned how to do it. Not necessarily to save money, but because she liked the feeling of knowing exactly where everything stood.

Later, after opening her supermarket, she loved it even more.

But no matter how good your books are, they can’t beat big capital, new technology, or the forces of a new era.

Personal effort is minuscule when compared to the tide of the times

(End of Chapter)