Chapter 4: It Really Is Her

“Miaomiao, it’s me, Song Ziping, the youngest son of the village head’s family—we met this morning?”

Song Miaomiao frowned, trying to recall, but had no impression of him at all.

“Are you looking for my mother? She’s gone out, she’s not home.”

Song Ziping quickly replied, “No, no, no—I’m not looking for her, I’m here for you.”

Song Miaomiao was even more baffled. “I don’t even know you. Why are you looking for me?”

Outside the door, Song Ziping was a little shy. From the moment he saw Song Miaomiao that morning, he’d been utterly captivated. He’d made up his mind—he had to marry her.

Although his mother disapproved, it didn’t matter. Once he passed the imperial exam and became a xiucai, she would no longer object.

“Miaomiao, please open the door first. Let me explain in person.”

Song Miaomiao put down her charcoal pencil. “I don’t open the door for strangers. Just say what you came to say.”

“But…”

“I said just say it.”

“Okay, okay… I’ll say it like this then.”

Afraid that she might get upset, Song Ziping nervously spilled his feelings:

“Miaomiao, will you wait for me? Once I become a xiucai, I promise to come for you with a grand bridal sedan and marry you properly.”

Song Miaomiao’s brows knitted together. She wasn’t pleased, but she still responded with poise and tact.

“Young Master Song, thank you for your affection, but I just want to stay with my mother for now. I’m not thinking about marriage.”

“You should leave. If someone overhears this, they’ll think I have no shame, secretly pledging myself to someone.”

Song Ziping: “But Miaomiao, I really like you…”

Song Miaomiao, however, didn’t feel moved—only alarmed. Who would want affection from someone they’d barely met?

“You—just leave! Or I’ll shout for help.”

Song Ziping didn’t want to give up. He had never seen a girl as beautiful as Song Miaomiao.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed nearby. Startled, and afraid of being seen loitering at someone’s door—which would be embarrassing—he hurriedly fled.

Hearing his footsteps fade, Song Miaomiao let out a breath of relief. She was alone at home, and the neighbors were far away—she had truly been frightened.

Just as she started to relax, another knock came at the door. This time, she was irritated.

“I already said I’m not waiting, and I don’t like you! Go find someone else to wait for you!”

There was a short silence outside. Then came a low, unfamiliar male voice.

“Aunt Guifang mentioned a few days ago she wanted to raise some rabbits. My family just had a litter. I’ve left them in a bamboo basket at your door—don’t forget to tell her.”

Miaomiao: “!!!”

She gasped, covering her mouth in shock, her eyes going wide.

Oh no. Had she just snapped at the wrong person?

“I’ll be going now.”

Silence returned to the doorway.

After a while, Song Miaomiao tiptoed over and slowly opened the door.

Inside the bamboo basket were warm, fluffy baby rabbits. Her face flushed with excitement.

“So cute~”

She pressed her cheek against their soft fur. The fuzzy texture made her heart tremble.

Around the corner, Lu Zheng watched as the lively girl held the rabbits, her eyes shining with joy. His own gaze softened unexpectedly.

It really was her.

…

As night fell, Wang Guifang finally returned home, carrying a small piece of pork in her hand.

“You must be hungry. I’ll make dinner now.”

Since Miaomiao didn’t know how to cook, and they didn’t have much food to spare, she volunteered.

“Let me cook for you, Mom.”

Wang Guifang smiled. “Alright!”

During dinner, Miaomiao noticed several new cuts on her mother’s hands and immediately grew concerned.

“Mom, where did you go today? Why are your hands so scratched up?”

Wang Guifang quickly drew her hands back and mumbled something vague.

Miaomiao put down her chopsticks. “Mom, I’m not stupid. Was it because of this pork? Did you work too hard just to get me something good to eat?”

Wang Guifang shook her head hurriedly. “No, no—it’s not that. Eat first. I’ll explain after dinner.”

Later, the mother and daughter sat in the courtyard under the moonlight. The breeze was gentle as Wang Guifang spoke.

“It wasn’t for the pork. I bought that with money from the butcher’s. These cuts came from working at your second uncle’s house.”

“When your father passed, we didn’t have money for the burial. I had to go ask your uncles.”

“They used that as an excuse to reclaim the farmland.”

“They also demanded that I work at their homes to repay the debt.”

Miaomiao: “So how much do we owe them?”

Wang Guifang: “Three taels of silver.”

“And how much do they pay you per day?”

“Ten wen.”

Miaomiao’s delicate brows furrowed immediately, and she huffed in anger.

“Even meat buns on the street cost three wen each, and they’re paying you ten wen for a whole day’s labor?”

Three taels was 3,000 wen.

That would take how many days at ten wen a day?

Wang Guifang shook her head and gave a bitter smile.

“It’s not like I go every day. Just during harvest time at your eldest uncle’s, or when your second uncle has odd jobs.”

But Miaomiao immediately saw through the scheme.

“Harvest and odd-job season are the busiest, most exhausting times. That’s even worse than making you go every day.”

“They’re trying to use three taels of silver to make you work for them for a lifetime!”

“They’re still family? What kind of relatives would go this far?”

Suddenly, a thought struck her. “Mom, we don’t have any land, and you’re working for Uncle and Second Uncle for free—so where does the money for our household expenses come from?”

Wang Guifang lowered her head. “I do laundry for a few wealthy families in the neighboring village. Qingqing also goes up the mountain to pick wild herbs to sell, and helps mend clothes for others.”

Song Miaomiao remembered the dirt under Song Qingqing’s fingernails when they first met.

Compared to her—someone who didn’t know how to do anything, and even needed her mother to come home and cook for her—it made her feel… complicated.

She hugged Wang Guifang tightly. “Mom, I’ll definitely earn money as soon as I can to pay back Uncle and Second Uncle. I won’t let you keep suffering like this.”

Wang Guifang patted her on the shoulder. “Good girl. You don’t need to compare yourself to Qingqing. You’re both good children.”

Suddenly, an idea flashed through Song Miaomiao’s mind. She pulled out the wooden board she had been working on earlier and said excitedly:

“Mom, why don’t we start a small business?”

“Look at this—pig offal soup! I heard nobody wants it. But if we collect it all, braise it with spices, and sell it at the market, I bet we’ll make a fortune!”

Wang Guifang gave her a strange look and said tactfully, “Miaomiao… who told you that pig offal isn’t wanted?”

Song Miaomiao: “???”

That’s what the farming storybooks always say! And besides, she had never seen offal on the table when she lived in the Song estate.

Wang Guifang asked again, “And these spices you’re talking about—what are they?”

Song Miaomiao read from her board: “Star anise, bay leaf, Sichuan peppercorns, cinnamon, fennel…”

She listed over a dozen, all dug out from the depths of her memory. Luckily, she’d read a lot—otherwise she might not have remembered them at all.

Wang Guifang took a deep breath. “Miaomiao, there are plenty of stalls in town that sell pork stomach soup and braised intestines. Even though those things smell strong, once cleaned properly with flour, they’re edible and even considered delicacies. How could they be unwanted?”

“And those spices—star anise, cinnamon, fennel—each one is expensive. The vendors who use them buy in bulk and reuse them, which is the only reason they can afford it.”

“With our current financial situation… I’m afraid it’s not feasible.”

Song Miaomiao: “…These storybooks have misled me.”