Chapter 6: Late-Night Snack

Wen Ruyu had thought about it before. The two shops in her family both dealt in fabric—textiles and dyeing—which meant that, for now, this was the only kind of business she could engage in.

The original owner of this body was a woman who rarely stepped outside. Going out to the streets to peddle goods was impossible.

Moreover, she was restricted by her status. Since her husband was a minor county official, Wen Ruyu held the title of “Ruren” (a scholar-official’s wife).

She only remembered that under the current dynasty’s rules, a “Ruren” could not remarry and was bound by many restrictions. Most likely, openly doing business would also not be allowed.

Ironically, having a noble status actually gave her even less freedom than an ordinary woman.

So if Wen Ruyu wanted to make money, her only option was to buy land and become a landlord or invest in shops to collect rent.

The original owner had lived a pampered life, never lifting a finger for manual work. The dishes she could cook were only a handful.

Even though Wen Ruyu herself knew a few recipes, she didn’t dare rush into opening a restaurant to make money—especially considering the cost of trial and error.

For now, her best bet to earn money was to manage the family’s two fabric shops.

Even if she failed, it would only mean a couple of less comfortable years. Cutting down some expenses would be enough to sustain them until the next provincial exam was over.

She never aimed to amass unimaginable wealth. Even with her modern knowledge, she prioritized security over ambition. She only sought a life of considerable comfort.

But to achieve even that, her family needed someone in government. Not aiming for a high-ranking position, at least a seventh-rank official—a minor magistrate—was necessary.

That was why Wen Ruyu decided to invest in her children’s education.

There had to be a return on investment.

The provincial exam was held once every three years. Next autumn, it would take place again. If Lu Songnian missed this one, he’d have to wait another three years.

Among all her sons, her eldest had the most potential, yet because he was the eldest, he was forced to abandon his studies to make money and support the family.

She couldn’t understand what the original owner had been thinking.

Perhaps it was a case of being too close to see clearly. The original owner had three biological sons—one to support the family, another who might not be talented, but a youngest son who excelled in his studies.

As long as one of the three succeeded, the family’s status would be preserved.

But had she ever considered the personalities of the other two? Were they truly reliable?

Their elder brother and sister-in-law worked tirelessly, yet the other two only indulged in pleasure.

They wouldn’t even stay home for a few days when their mother was ill—how could they be expected to be filial in the future?

Forget about being good sons—they lacked basic human empathy.

After the family left her room, Wen Ruyu dismissed the servants as well.

Then, she carefully inquired about Lu Baining’s earnings from selling fabric this year.

The family’s two fabric shops had made a net profit of only two thousand taels of silver—far less than Wen Ruyu had expected.

TV dramas often exaggerated wealth, throwing around figures like ten thousand taels as if they were easy to earn.

Lu Baining had traveled tirelessly for a year, enduring countless hardships, and all for just two thousand taels.

Still, when calculating family expenses—social obligations, allowances for both masters and servants, daily necessities, house and carriage repairs, festival preparations, and the costs of future exams—these two thousand taels would be enough to sustain the household for two years.

The Lu family was merely a small-town gentry household, not particularly wealthy. Though they had servants, they weren’t truly affluent.

A common family with three generations living together could live comfortably on fifty taels a year.

But the Lu family had a large estate, many dependents to support, social status to maintain, and scholars to finance. Even with seven or eight hundred taels a year, they were only getting by.

After understanding Lu Songnian’s earnings, Wen Ruyu told her daughter-in-law, Zhao Shi, “Tomorrow, bring me the household accounts. I want to see how much we’ve saved over the years.”

Zhao Shi didn’t dare refuse and respectfully answered, “Yes, Mother.” But inside, she felt uneasy.

For the past two years, her husband had been out earning money, and the family had finally saved a little.

Did Mother-in-law think she wasn’t managing the household well? Was she planning to take away her authority?

She wasn’t particularly skilled, but she had tried to be frugal. Was it still not enough?

Did Mother-in-law have an issue with her?

Zhao Shi, always a dutiful daughter-in-law, anxiously reflected on what she might have done wrong.

Wen Ruyu sensed Zhao Shi’s unease but didn’t bother explaining.

As the leader of the household, she believed her subordinates didn’t need to understand her thoughts—only to carry out their tasks.

Zhao Shi’s anxiety stemmed from their unfamiliarity. Over time, once she understood Wen Ruyu better, her worries would naturally fade.

Wen Ruyu would still delegate tasks to Zhao Shi. There was too much to manage alone.

One such task was the upcoming New Year’s preparations—ancestral worship and hiring an opera troupe. She planned to let her daughter-in-law handle it.

After giving instructions, Wen Ruyu spoke briefly with her eldest son.

“You passed the scholar’s exam at seventeen, but at eighteen, the provincial exam coincided with your mourning period. Next year, you’ll be twenty-one—just in time for another exam. Autumn isn’t far off, and you’ve fallen behind in your studies. From now on, you must focus. Ask the town’s examination candidates for guidance so you’ll be prepared.”

Lu Songnian respectfully bowed. “Yes, Mother.”

Business didn’t suit him. As a scholar, he didn’t even need to kneel before a county official. He had his pride, and he had talent.

Abandoning his studies for trade was never his wish—it was a duty he had to bear.

Now that the family had some savings, he had thought about asking his mother for permission to take two years off to study.

But he had hesitated, fearing unexpected family troubles.

Or worse—what if he failed after all that effort? He would be left without an official career and with a broken business. How could he face his family then?

But now that his mother had spoken, he had no more doubts.

Unlike Zhao Shi, whose heart was filled with worry, Lu Songnian’s heart felt warm and full. All the grievances of the past two years vanished.

He thought to himself, Mother does care about me after all!

After settling things, Wen Ruyu, having nothing more to do, dismissed everyone.

Later that night, she read a book by lamplight.

It was fascinating—many characters were unfamiliar to her modern self, yet she understood their meanings and pronunciations. This must have been due to the original owner’s memories.

Wen Ruyu always had the best resources in the household—her room was the brightest and most spacious, and she enjoyed the finest food, clothing, and transportation.

Yet, despite using the best lamp available, reading for just a short while strained her eyes.

The light was too dim, even worse than a 40-watt bulb from her childhood home.

So she put the book down and summoned an old servant.

“Has Second Young Master returned?”

The servant bowed. “I just checked—he hasn’t yet.”

“Has his attendant reported back?”

“No.”

Wen Ruyu nodded indifferently. “If he returns tonight, tell him not to go out tomorrow—I need to see him. If he only comes back in the morning, don’t let him sleep. Send him to me immediately.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

After another moment, she added, “Check the study. See which of the young masters are still reading.”

A quarter of an hour later, the servant reported back. “The eldest and third young masters are studying.”

Wen Ruyu nodded. “Tell the kitchen to prepare late-night snacks for them every evening—something simple and easy to digest, like hot soup noodles.”

In the study, Lu Songnian and Lu Ke sat quietly, eating their warm bowls of noodles.

The broth flowed down their throats, warming them from the inside out.

Though the room was already heated, somehow, this bowl of noodles felt even warmer.