Chapter 6

The saying “A penny can stump a hero” rang true for Li Hehua, who was currently stumped by a lack of funds.

She wanted to set up a small food stall, but without capital, her dream remained out of reach. Before she could earn money from the stall, she needed to find a way to raise the initial funds.

She owned nothing of value to sell. The fantasy of venturing into the mountains to gather rare herbs like ginseng, as depicted in some transmigration novels, was unrealistic. If such treasures existed, the locals would have already claimed them—they weren’t fools.

Realizing a quick fortune was unlikely, Li Hehua resolved to earn money through her own skills.

Unable to devise a plan immediately and with the day growing late, she bought two mantou (plain steamed buns) and a baozi(meat-filled bun) from a street vendor for three wen. She carried them home, planning to ration them for lunch and dinner. She desperately wanted to avoid another bowl of coarse rice porridge.

Following the same route she had taken earlier, Li Hehua returned home after more than an hour’s walk. By the time she arrived, it was past noon, and the others were gone—whether napping or out, she didn’t care. She trudged straight to the woodshed, collapsed onto the bed, too exhausted to move.

Walking continuously for half a day would be exhausting for anyone, but for Li Hehua in her current condition, it was even more grueling. She felt as if her entire body was about to fall apart, and she desperately wanted to collapse and never move again.

However, the gnawing hunger in her stomach was even more intense than her fatigue. With a groan, Li Hehua forced herself to sit up and pulled out the baozi and mantou she had bought.

After eating half a mantou, her mouth felt parched. Li Hehua reluctantly stood up again and left the woodshed to find some water in the kitchen.

There was a pot of cooled boiled water in the kitchen. Too tired to heat it, she scooped out a bowl and gulped it down. She refilled the bowl and drank another large bowlful before her thirst was quenched. As she set the bowl down, intending to leave, she heard a faint rustling sound. She listened carefully, but the sound had vanished. Still, she was certain it hadn’t been her imagination.

Li Hehua placed the bowl on the counter and scanned the kitchen. Her gaze finally settled on the firewood pile behind the stove.

As she slowly approached, she discovered a small boy nestled among the logs—the very one Zhang Tieshan had brought home.

The little boy sat huddled in a corner of the stove, so small he was almost invisible. He hugged his knees, motionless and silent, simply curled up quietly. Without a close look, he would have been impossible to spot.

Li Hehua wasn’t sure what the relationship was between this little boy and the original owner of her body. But since Zhang Tieshan had brought him back to raise, their connection must be extraordinary. Yet yesterday, the child had acted as if she didn’t exist, showing no sign of acknowledgment. She couldn’t be certain of their bond.

Li Hehua cautiously took another step closer, softly calling out, “Little one? Little darling?”

The child remained motionless, as if deaf, not even lifting his head.

Li Hehua’s heart skipped a beat. Could he be deaf? she wondered. Impossible. How could such a young child be deaf?

Unwilling to believe it, she slowly crouched down in front of him and waved her hand in front of his face. “Little one, can you hear me?”

Still no response. The child seemed completely immersed in his own world, utterly detached from reality.

Li Hehua pursed her lips. She gently reached out and took the child’s tiny hand, intending to give it a gentle tug. But before she could, the statue-like boy suddenly sprang to life. He yanked his hand away, frantically flailing his arms in a silent, desperate rejection of her touch.

Li Hehua was startled by the boy’s sudden movement and the fierce look on his face. She quickly retreated several steps. “Okay, okay, sweetie, calm down. I won’t touch you. See? I’m not touching you. Don’t be angry.”

The little boy flailed for a while before gradually calming down, then resumed his previous motionless posture.

Li Hehua’s brow furrowed.

Did he hear what I said just now? Why is he acting so strangely? Something doesn’t feel right.

Still, the boy seemed to strongly reject her. She decided not to force communication, lest she hurt him. She’d better leave.

Li Hehua returned to the woodshed, sat down, and resumed eating her leftover steamed bun. After a few bites, she glanced at the meat-filled bun in her hand, then at the kitchen. After a moment’s thought, she stood up and went back inside.

She placed the paper-wrapped baozi in front of the boy. “Sweetie, this is a meat bun. It’s for you.”

Afraid he wouldn’t eat it, she hurried out, saying as she left, “I’m leaving now. You can eat it yourself.”

Li Hehua didn’t know if the boy would eat it, but for some reason, the image of his earlier distress kept her mind from settling.

The little boy looked to be only four or five years old, but he was so thin it was heartbreaking. His clothes hung loosely on his frail frame as he sat there silently, an inexplicably unsettling sight.

Li Hehua had noticed fresh and old bruises on his arms, clearly the result of long-term abuse. She couldn’t fathom who could inflict such cruelty on a child so young, yet a nagging suspicion she dared not acknowledge lingered in her mind, one she desperately wanted to dismiss.

No, no, I can’t dwell on this, she thought, forcing the speculation from her mind and focusing on eating the mantou in her hand.

After finishing the bun, Li Hehua’s stomach still growled fiercely, as if the single bun had done nothing to quell her hunger. Her mind screamed for more, demanding another bite.

This body’s appetite is insatiable! she thought. One bun probably wouldn’t even fill a tooth gap. But I can’t indulge this hunger.

Li Hehua slapped her plump belly. “No more eating! Do you even want to lose weight?”

She stashed the remaining bun for later, closed the woodshed door, and lay down, determined to rest.

To distract herself from her hunger, Li Hehua began thinking about how to earn money.

How can I make money without any initial investment?

After pondering for a while, she finally came up with an idea: perhaps cooking for others could be a way to earn money.

However, she didn’t want to work as a chef in a restaurant. First, there was no guarantee she could find a restaurant hiring. Second, restaurants were only located in town, meaning she’d have to travel there early and return late, likely not reaching her village until dawn.

Lastly, as a chef, she wouldn’t get paid immediately, she’d have to work at least a month to receive any wages. For someone in urgent need of money like her, that was far too slow.

So, if not a restaurant chef, she could cook for private households and charge per meal.

In ancient times, weddings and funerals were often celebrated with feasts at home, especially in villages. Families would hire a professional cook specifically for the occasion, requiring them to bring nothing but their skills.

Li Hehua’s eyes lit up. This seemed perfect for her. Her cooking skills were undoubtedly good; if someone would hire her to prepare a feast, she was confident she could satisfy the host family.

Now the question was: where could she find families in need of a feast cook?

This village was out of the question. Even if someone were looking for a cook for a feast, they wouldn’t hire her—they might even chase her away. She needed to go to another village, preferably one where no one knew her.

Tomorrow, she could inquire in the surrounding villages. If she heard of any upcoming celebrations, she could offer her services.

Having found a glimmer of hope, Li Hehua felt a sudden weight lift from her shoulders. Her spirits rose, and a faint smile crept onto her lips as she drifted off to sleep.

…….

Meanwhile, Zhang Tieshan returned from the fields with Zhang Qingshan. Noticing the quiet house, Zhang Qingshan said to his brother, “Mom must be napping with Shulin. She always takes an afternoon nap.

Zhang Tieshan set down his hoe and slowly walked to the door of the east wing. He gently pushed it open and peered inside, but only saw his mother’s silhouette—Shulin was nowhere to be found.

Where was Shulin?

Zhang Tieshan entered the room and confirmed that Shulin wasn’t on the bed. He hurried to the kitchen, then to his own room, and finally to Qingshan’s, but the little boy was nowhere to be seen.

Only then did Zhang Tieshan begin to panic.

Zhang Qingshan immediately said, “Brother, let’s check the kitchen. Shulin likes to hide in quiet places.”

Hearing this, Zhang Tieshan strode toward the kitchen. Sure enough, they found Zhang Shulin sitting quietly in a corner.

Both brothers breathed a sigh of relief.

Zhang Qingshan quickly called out, “Shulin, look! Dad and Uncle are back!”

Unfortunately, the little boy didn’t respond.

Zhang Qingshan wasn’t angry, he was used to Shulin’s behavior.

“Hey, Brother, look! There’s a meat bun in front of Shulin. Where did that come from?” Zhang Qingshan pointed at the bun.

Zhang Tieshan saw it too. After a moment of silence, he didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward, picked up the little boy, and gently patted his back. “Shulin, be good. Daddy’s back. Want to go outside with Daddy?”

Shulin didn’t speak, but he didn’t resist Zhang Tieshan’s embrace.

Zhang Tieshan carried Shulin out of the kitchen, while Zhang Qingshan grabbed the meat bun and followed. “Brother, this bun is still fresh. Let’s warm it up for Shulin.” Meat buns weren’t cheap, and he wondered who had given it to Shulin—someone quite generous.

Zhang Tieshan glanced at the closed door of the woodshed. “Throw it away.”

“Huh?” Zhang Qingshan’s eyes widened. “Brother, this meat bun wasn’t cheap! I bet even Shulin hasn’t had one this big before. It’s such a waste to throw it away. Let him eat it. Besides, throwing it away would be such a waste of food.”

Zhang Tieshan paused, looking down at his frail son in his arms. After a long moment, he grunted softly.

Zhang Qingshan grinned, turned back to the kitchen, warmed the baozi, and returned to the main room to hand it to his brother.

Zhang Tieshan was holding Shulin. He took the bun, tore off a piece for himself, and after a moment, tore off a small piece and held it to Shulin’s lips. “Shulin, eat the bun.”

The little one blinked, then obediently opened his mouth to take the bite. He chewed slowly, taking his time before swallowing.

Zhang Tieshan didn’t rush him. Only after Shulin had swallowed did he tear off another piece and feed him.

Zhang Qingshan watched from the side, his eyes stinging. He waved his sleeve casually, pretending to wipe his eyes.

“Brother, I’m sorry. It’s my fault for not taking better care of Shulin and letting him end up like this,” Zhang Tieshan said, his voice thick with self-reproach. If only he had been more vigilant, if only he had confronted that woman head-on, Shulin wouldn’t be in this state.

Zhang Tieshan shook his head silently. “It’s not your fault. You’re still young.” His younger brother was only thirteen, still a child himself. How could he possibly protect Shulin? He and their mother had already suffered enough.

Zhang Qingshan turned away, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. After a long pause, he spoke again, his voice trembling slightly. “Brother, now that you’re back, we don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

Zhang Tieshan hummed in acknowledgment.

Zhang Qingshan glanced toward the woodshed, his eyes hardening with disgust and hatred. “Brother, why are you still keeping that woman around? She’s so wicked—why let her stay?”

Zhang Tieshan continued feeding Shulin the steamed bun. “I’ve already divorced her. I’m letting her stay a little longer out of consideration for Shulin.”

Zhang Qingshan’s anger flared anew. “You’ve divorced her! Why show her such kindness? Kick her back to her parents’ house!”

A glint of danger flashed in Zhang Tieshan’s eyes, his voice taking on an ominous edge. “Not yet. I haven’t settled accounts with her family. We’ll talk after I do.”