Lying in bed with her three children, Qian Chunhua began telling them a bedtime story:

In a faraway mountain village lived a pig mother and her three adorable piglets. Mama Pig worked hard every day, while her children grew up without doing any chores.

One night, after dinner, Mama Pig gathered her children and said solemnly, “You’ve grown up now. It’s time to live on your own. Once you build your own houses, you’ll move out.”

…

The angry wolf returned and circled the house, looking for another way in. Finally, he climbed onto the roof and tried to slide down through the chimney.

But the third little pig saw him from the window and quickly lit a fire.

The wolf fell straight into the stove, choking and burning his tail. He howled and ran away with his tail between his legs, never daring to trouble the three little pigs again.

Qian Chunhua told the story with vivid expression, and the three children were completely captivated.

It was their first time hearing such a wonderful story—they didn’t even want to go to sleep.

But Qian Chunhua had more than just entertainment in mind.

She planned to use these bedtime stories to teach her children life lessons.

Her children were still young, and their personalities and values were still developing.

“Children, that’s why we must learn from the third little pig—be hardworking, smart, helpful, and united. Do things steadily, don’t rush for quick results, and never dream of success overnight.”

Qingsong nodded. “Yes, we mustn’t be like the first and second pig.”

Xiaoling added, “The first and second pigs were lazy. I don’t like them.”

Qingfeng chimed in, “Me neither. I like the third little pig.”

Qian Chunhua smiled, satisfied that her message had gotten through. “We all need to be like the third little pig—diligent, careful, and practical…”

After the story, it was time for bed.

“Sleep now, children,” she said.

Before closing his eyes, Little Qingfeng asked, “Mom, can you tell us another story tomorrow night?”

Qian Chunhua smiled. “Of course. I’ll tell you a bedtime story every night from now on.”

The children soon drifted off to sleep, but Qian Chunhua lay awake.

What she had learned tonight at the village chief’s house left her uneasy.

Yongning Prefecture hadn’t seen rain for three months. It wasn’t yet a drought, but no one knew how bad it might get.

It was still winter, but if the rain didn’t come by spring or even summer, it would be too late to prepare.

Luckily, her space contained fifty one-ton water tanks.

Though she hadn’t had time to fill them before she transmigrated, if filled, they could provide water for up to two years if used carefully.

She had enough supplies stored in her space—except clothes for the three children.

When she had stocked up, she never imagined she’d have three kids, so she hadn’t prepared any children’s items.

Aside from the children, there was her mother and younger brother, whom she couldn’t ignore.

Her mother could wear Qian Chunhua’s own clothes, but her younger brother would also need clothing, which she needed to prepare.

If war spread to Yongning Prefecture, they would not be able to stay in Huanghualing.

Drought and war—two possible disasters. They might happen, or they might not.

For now, her family still had to live in Huanghualing. She had to plan ways to earn money, arrange for Qingsong’s education—he was already eight and hadn’t yet started school.

There were many things to do. Tomorrow, she would go into the county to find a private school and enroll Qingsong. His education couldn’t be delayed.

The house still lacked a water vat, which she would also buy tomorrow.

As for income, she still wanted to open a tea shop. But that would wait until the house was rebuilt. In the meantime, she could observe the traffic on the main road to see if it was worth doing.

She also needed to fill those water tanks from her space. She remembered that there was a spring on top of Lion Mountain that hadn’t frozen over yet. She should go fetch water soon.

Closing her eyes, Qian Chunhua mentally mapped out her next steps—and eventually drifted off to sleep.

..

The next morning, after breakfast, she left Qingfeng and Xiaoling in her mother’s care and took Qingsong toward the county town.

In just two or three days, Qian Chunhua had noticed a big change in Qingsong—he had become more cheerful and lively.

On the road, he was beginning to act like a real child.

Affected by Qingsong’s energy, Qian Chunhua’s anxiety from the night before lifted.

She chatted and laughed with him along the way.

The atmosphere between mother and son was wonderfully warm.

Suddenly, Qingsong tugged nervously at Qian Chunhua’s sleeve. “Mom…”

Qian Chunhua looked at him. “What is it, Qingsong?”

He pointed ahead. “Uncle… and Qing… Qingyun.”

Qian Chunhua looked and saw two familiar figures ahead—it was Zhao Yongqiang and his son Zhao Qingyun, on their way to private school.

Seeing how tense Qingsong became, Qian Chunhua sighed inwardly.

His childhood experiences had clearly left deep scars.

The moment he saw those two, Qingsong instinctively became anxious, even wanting to run.

Qian Chunhua held his hand tightly. “Mom sees them too. Just ignore them. The road is wide—everyone walks their own path.”

Her tone was relaxed.

She didn’t tell him not to be afraid or try to comfort him too much—she simply used her calm demeanor to influence Qingsong, helping him slowly emerge from the shadow cast by that part of the family.

Her tone calmed him.

Although still nervous, he wasn’t as panicked.

He just clung closer to his mother and gripped her hand tightly.

Qian Chunhua gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

This child… the trauma was there. She wasn’t a psychologist, but she knew it would take time and patience to guide him out.

Keeping a respectful distance from Zhao Yongqiang and his son, the two of them arrived at the county.

After asking around, Qian Chunhua learned that the county had two well-known private schools.

One in the west was founded by a retired senior Confucian official.

The one in the east was established by a scholar who had passed the imperial exam but suffered a riding accident that crippled his leg and ruined his appearance—making him unfit for officialdom.

He returned to his hometown and started a school.

The one in the west was closest to Huanghualing—and was also where Zhao Qingyun studied.

It was the most reputable school in the area, and the top choice for most families.

For convenience, Qian Chunhua preferred to enroll Qingsong in the western school.

When they arrived, Zhao Qingyun was already inside, and Zhao Yongqiang had left.

At the school gate, a surly gatekeeper stopped them. “What do you want?”

His rudeness gave Qian Chunhua a bad first impression of the school.

She had brought a jar of wine as a gift for the gatekeeper, but now she was hesitant to give it.

She turned and saw Qingsong gazing at the school plaque with eager eyes.

Her steps, about to turn away, paused.

Well, they were already here.

She handed the wine to the gatekeeper. “Excuse me, uncle, is the school still accepting students? If so, who should we talk to?”

The gatekeeper took the wine, checked the label, and his eyes lit up.

His expression immediately softened.

“Yes, yes… we’re still accepting…”