In the end, Shen Qing made the final decision to have the pig head eaten in the next couple of days, not keeping it any longer, for the sake of eating fresh.

The lard was rendered, and the lard residue could be stored for a long time.

In the future, when stewing dishes, a few pieces could be added in, and it would provide more fat than pig ears or tongues.

What Shen Qing didn’t say was that once the brushes were sold and money came in, she could invest more into soap production, at which point she wouldn’t need to be so frugal with the lard residue.

Thinking about the brushes, she was so focused on the thought that she didn’t have time to eat the noodle soup and immediately asked Huo Bing, who had brought a chair over, “Do you know which family in the village has rice straw?”

The main crops in Xingcheng were wheat, which was sown in late September and harvested in early May the following year, followed by corn, sown right after wheat harvest and harvested in early September.

This system allowed for two harvests a year.

Wheat, being a refined grain, was expensive to sell, and most farming families would rather sell it for household expenses than eat it. Corn was kept for family consumption.

Rice was also a refined grain, but it was sown and harvested at different times than wheat.

If rice was grown, corn couldn’t be sown, so very few people in Xingcheng grew rice.

Shen Qing suddenly realized that since there was less rice grown in Xingcheng, people ate more wheat-based food, and without rice, where would rice straw come from?

Huo Bing saw that Shen Qing was sitting in the yard with a big bowl of soup, ready to eat, but she turned around and went back inside to get a chair.

After placing the chair behind Shen Qing and watching her sit down, she thought for a moment before saying, “I think only Aunt Ying’s family has rice straw. Aunt Ying’s husband is from the Jiangnan area and loves eating rice. When they settled in Qili Village, they specifically bought rice paddies.”

“You and Aunt Ying don’t get along, so it’s normal you don’t know. But why do you need rice straw, mother?”

Shen Qing sat on the chair brought by her eldest daughter-in-law, feeling quite pleased as she was looked at with envy by her third child.

Her eldest daughter-in-law was truly great—perceptive, quick with her hands, and diligent.

She had been in Qili Village since she was ten and knew every family in the village, even finding reasons for Shen Qing’s request.

Shen Qing didn’t plan to hide it from her, but she lowered her voice a little more to ensure only the three of them could hear: “Didn’t I tell you that I was guided by the Buddha in my dream two days ago? The Buddha not only taught me to do good deeds, but also gave me a few ways to make money; I’ve chosen two to try out. Both require something from wood ash, and rice straw ash contains it.”

Jiang Xiangnan, who had been eating big spoonfuls of noodle soup, froze for a moment, his mouth open in surprise, forgetting to continue eating.

Huo Bing gasped, both surprised and delighted, but mostly delighted.

She quickly looked around to make sure no one else was nearby, then whispered even lower, “Mother, should I go ask about it? Aunt Ying has always taken care of me, but rice straw is used to line under the quilts to keep warm, so they probably don’t have much to give.”

Aunt Ying had married later in life, and her family wasn’t large.

However, her maternal family was numerous, and things like rice straw, which weren’t valuable, would have been given away long ago.

Shen Qing felt a chill in her heart.

Even if Jiang Ying didn’t hold grudges and gave her some rice straw, there wouldn’t be enough.

She tried to recall other ways to extract alkaline water besides rice straw ash.

Suddenly, she remembered that when she was young during the Dragon Boat Festival, every household in the village would make lye rice dumplings.

After harvesting soybeans, the stalks wouldn’t be discarded; they would be saved for firewood, but most people would leave some behind to make lye for wrapping dumplings.

The lye cooked dumplings not only tasted authentic, but also had a golden, translucent exterior, and soft, sweet, chewy insides.

They could hang under the eaves for more than ten days without spoiling, making them easy to store.

“Does our village grow many soybeans? Do people still keep the stalks?” She hadn’t seen soybeans at home, so she wasn’t sure if they had been grown.

The firewood room was cluttered with a pile of things, and even after a quick glance, she couldn’t tell.

But even if she did spot them, she couldn’t be sure she’d recognize them.

Huo Bing responded, “Yes, mother, we grow a lot of soybeans. We still have some in our firewood room, but it’s buried deep inside, we haven’t burned it yet.”

The land along the riverbank couldn’t grow much, so most people grew soybeans.

When the soybeans were young, they were eaten as edamame, and the mature beans were dried and stored to be boiled, stir-fried, or ground into flour to be used in various ways.

However, their family had little land and didn’t grow much.

They ate the young beans while they were fresh, and didn’t have any old beans left to store.

Shen Qing’s eyes lit up when she heard that there were soybeans in the village and at home.

She immediately felt less anxious.

She ordered, “Alright, third child, after you finish eating, go find those stalks and bring them here so I can see how much there is. If there’s enough, we can use it. Hou Bing, when you’re boiling the pig head and rendering the lard, use the soybean stalks.”

“Okay!” Jiang Xiangnan quickly finished the last bit of soup and happily responded, putting down his bowl and rushing toward the firewood room.

Huo Bing was a little troubled but knew that whenever she was uncertain, she should ask Shen Qing. “Mother, we only have one big iron pot. Should we render the lard first or boil the pig head? We also have a clay pot for boiling soup and medicine, but the pig head won’t fit. Can we use the clay pot to render the lard?”

Lard was extremely precious, and she couldn’t make the decision on her own.

Shen Qing felt like crying but had no tears.

It was rare enough that they only had one pot.

“Alright, just use the clay pot to render the lard,” she said.

Even if it had a slight herbal smell, it wouldn’t matter.

She could always say it was herbal soap, and since the clay pot was clean, there wouldn’t be much residue left.

Huo Bing received the confirmation and quickly got up to prepare the big iron pot and the clay pot.

Shen Qing wasn’t idle either.

She got up and went to the house to find some fabric.

The only one with many clothes in the house was her.

Huo Bing and Jiang Shui had only two sets of clothes each, enough to change, and during winter, they just wore both sets together, but it didn’t keep them warm.

Her sons, except for Jiang Xiangzhong, didn’t have much either.

Shen Qing found three sets of clothes in the bed, and took the one that was washed thin and frayed to cut out a large piece of fabric.

She remembered that gauze would be best, but since there was no gauze, she had to use cloth instead.

She placed the ash in the cloth and poured hot water over it repeatedly to filter out the alkaline water in the process.

Outside, Jiang Xiangnan quickly brought a large bundle of soybean stalks, while Huo Bing had already cut the lard into evenly sized pieces and placed them in the clay pot.

She started a fire with the soybean stalks to begin rendering the lard.

The big iron pot was also on fire, waiting for the pig head to be cleaned and blanched.

The three of them were working hard, and inside the house, Jiang Xiangdong, seeing the baby sleeping soundly, quietly came out and asked, “Mother, do you need me to do anything?”

Most babies in the confinement period slept after eating, and when they cried, it usually meant they needed to be changed.

Since they were at home, there shouldn’t be any danger.

However, with a baby in the house and a three-year-old little girl, Shen Qing was eager to earn money but also cautious about the safety of the children.

Thinking about Jiang Xiangnan, who had worked hard all morning and was now going to the firewood room to fetch soybean stalks, she told Jiang Xiangdong, “Oldest, go to the firewood room and bring the soybean stalks for Ah Bing. Bring as much as you can; we’ll burn all of it in the next few days. Let the third child watch the two babies. If they wake up and cry, call Ah Bing over, and he can also take a rest.”

Boiling the pig head and rendering the lard would take at least an hour, which was just enough time to burn all the soybean stalks and make them small and easy to store.

“Okay!”

The small kitchen and big yard of the Jiang family were immediately bustling with activity.