Chapter 14

“You light the fire, I’ll cook the fish.” Su Wanwan headed toward the kitchen. “My fish is delicious—you’ve never tasted anything like it.”

To avoid slipping up, it was better to let her second brother tend the fire. She had never done it before. She also reminded him not to make the flames too big.

With a smaller fire, things should go smoothly. She needed to slowly get used to life here.

For dinner, Su Wanwan used the big stove to make pickled cabbage fish. The cabbage had been pickled by Su Mother herself—the real deal, not the modern pit-fermented kind.

A whole big pot, divided into two portions. She topped them with scallions, minced garlic, dried chilies, and Sichuan peppercorns, then poured on hot oil to bring out the fragrance.

One portion she placed in a basket along with a plate of cucumber salad, covering it with a cotton cloth.

Carrying it to her brother, she said, “Second Brother, take this to Comrade Xie and Comrade Lin.”

Su Heng lifted the cloth for a peek and swallowed hard. “Sis, you really thought this through. If they eat our food, they won’t have the heart to tell on us for catching fish. Why didn’t you ever cook this before? Smells amazing.”

Su Wanwan replied, “You never caught big fish before. This dish only tastes good with big ones. Now hurry—once you get back, we’ll eat.”

“Alright.” Su Heng picked up the basket and left.

Su Wanwan looked at the black dog lying on the ground. “Go with Second Brother, make sure you recognize Xie Beishen, Comrade Xie. Next time you’ll take me to him. When you come back, I’ll give you some of that spring water again.”

“Woof!” Little Black wagged his tail and ran off quickly.

Whenever she gave her family the spring water, she shared some with Little Black too. Ever since then, it was like he understood human speech. He was unbelievably smart.

As for herself, drinking the spring water had not only improved her health but also sharpened her memory—reading her brother’s textbooks was like photographing the pages in her mind.

Just then, she heard a cat meowing—three cries in a row, a pause, then three more.

She finally remembered. That was the secret signal between Ma Zhiming and the original Su Wanwan.

No wonder she hadn’t realized before—she hadn’t been the one cooking these days and had only occasionally heard the cat. She hadn’t made the connection.

Now, with the sky darkening, that disgusting man must still be lurking, plotting against her.

In the book, he was the one who caused her whole family’s death. If he died too easily, that would be letting him off cheap. No—he deserved to die on the farm, just like in the story.

She pulled from her space a bottle of Seven-Day Pain Powder, something a friend had once given her to use on a scumbag boyfriend—along with Seven-Day Itch Powder and Seven-Day Purge Powder. Each was colorless, odorless, and took effect three days after touching the skin.

The pain powder would spread from a single spot to the whole nervous system, tormenting the victim until the seventh day. In this era, no doctor could diagnose it.

Perfect—no one would suspect her.

Which to use first—itch then pain, or pain then itch?

She decided. For now, pain.

She filled a basin with water, sprinkled in the pain powder, stirred it with a firewood stick, then tossed the stick into the stove to burn.

Her lips curved into a sly smile. “This time, pain. Next time, itch.”

Following the sound of the cat, she lifted the basin and, through the kitchen window, flung the water toward the spot where Ma Zhiming was crouching. She even heard a muffled sound outside before tucking the basin back into her space.

You won’t die from this, but you wanted to force yourself on me? Be ready for payback.

Ma Zhiming, squatting sneakily in the corner, was suddenly drenched by the water. He shuddered, relieved it wasn’t hot—otherwise he’d have been discovered.

Another day wasted. He hadn’t seen the woman for a whole week, and the thought made him grind his teeth. Once he tricked her into his hands, he’d make her regret it.

Unwillingly, he left.

Meanwhile, Su Heng was taking a shortcut to Xie Beishen’s house.

Lin Yu was about to cook when he saw Su Heng arrive with the basket. “Why are you here?”

Not wanting to be seen, Su Heng stepped inside, set the basket on the table, and said, “Comrade Xie, since you can’t cook fish, I brought you some. Just make rice yourselves. I’ll collect the basket tomorrow.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and left.

Little Black sniffed Xie Beishen before following Su Heng home.

Lin Yu noticed the black dog. “So there was a black dog.” He opened the basket and swallowed at the smell.

Grinning, he set the dishes on the table. “Smells heavenly. The rice is already cooked. I’ll get the bowls.”

Xie Beishen sat up, staring at the dishes. The sour, spicy aroma of the fish filled the air, golden broth steaming, red chilies and peppercorns gleaming, tender white fish pieces floating inside.

Lin Yu soon brought two bowls of white rice, placing one before Xie. He couldn’t wait—he snatched up a piece of fish, popped it in his mouth, and mumbled through full cheeks, “So good!”

Xie Beishen picked up his chopsticks and tried a piece. The fish was smooth and tender, melting in his mouth, sour and spicy flavors bursting across his tongue. The pickled cabbage paired perfectly with the rice. Even the cucumber salad was refreshing and crisp.

Lin Yu kept eating and muttered, “That auntie from the Su family can really cook—better than any state-owned restaurant.”

Xie Beishen nodded in agreement. This was his first time tasting fish cooked this way.

They finished every drop of the broth, ladling it over rice—it was that good.

At the Su household, it was the same.

Su Mother sighed. “Daughter, how did you make the fish so tasty? I never knew you could cook this well.”

Su Father couldn’t stop eating either—he had never tasted anything like it.

And Su Heng—he was practically licking his chopsticks clean.

Su Wanwan’s modern mother had run a restaurant chain. With that kind of upbringing, how could her cooking not be good? Still, tonight’s flavor was a bit off—probably because she wasn’t used to cooking on such a big stove yet.

She covered with a casual excuse. “Ma, you always use too little oil and never add proper seasonings. Of course it doesn’t taste good.”

Su Mother suddenly remembered something, dropped her chopsticks, and rushed into the kitchen. She opened the oil jar—and her heart ached at the sight of the bottom nearly showing.

She carried it back, scolding lightly, “You used up all the oil? I was planning to make it last a week!”

Su Wanwan didn’t know what to say. There hadn’t been much oil left to begin with, and she had already thought it wasn’t enough.

All of this boiled down to poverty. If she’d known, she would’ve stocked up before crossing over.

Luxury to frugality was hard. At least until she earned money, she’d have to adapt. Even the toiletries in her space would have to be rationed.

Before bed, Su Wanwan went to the kitchen. She took half of the fish she had pickled that day, storing the rest in her space. She also checked supplies: a sack of sweet potatoes, half a sack of cornmeal, half a sack of sorghum, two or three jin of wheat, and about the same of rice.

She stored the cornmeal, wheat, and rice in her space, poured a little oil into the family jar, then stowed the oil bottle away too.

From the chicken coop, she left one bird and stored the other three in her space.

Truly, they were poor. Beyond that, there was nothing.

Tomorrow, when the grandparents came, the house would be stripped bare again.

Let them carry off the sweet potatoes and sorghum—then the plan could be carried out.

Having finished preparations, she finally went to bed.