Just as the black-faced man finished speaking, everyone at the noodle stall burst into laughter.

Wasn’t he the one who had just mocked the short, stout merchant for being afraid of death?

Yet now that it was his turn, he refused without a second thought.

Mocked by the crowd, the black-faced man’s expression darkened with anger. He flung his sleeve and turned to leave.

“Sir, sir! You haven’t paid for your noodles,” the server called after him loudly.

The man’s face shifted slightly.

He pulled out ten copper coins and slapped them onto the counter without a word, then left in silence.

“Brother Zhang, is the world outside really that chaotic now?” a scholar-looking man asked with a furrowed brow.

The chubby merchant nodded, his face heavy. “It’s even worse than what I’ve described. In Bingzhou, the dead lie everywhere, and people are resorting to eating human flesh. In the western seas, bandits run rampant—life is unbearable for common folk.”

“Then there’s no peaceful place left in the world?” an elderly man sighed.

“Our Yongning Prefecture is still doing okay for now.”

The elder shook his head. “No egg remains unbroken when the nest is overturned. Since the summer solstice, not a drop of rain has fallen. How is that considered okay? Besides, with this strange climate, I fear we’re heading toward an extremely harsh winter.”

His words left everyone silent.

After a long while, the scholar spoke up, “Shouldn’t we start stockpiling some grain, firewood, and charcoal?”

“Yes, yes…”

“We should. With the state of things, storing up now isn’t a bad idea.”

The stout merchant nodded. “Grain prices are already rising. In our Nanzhou County, they haven’t yet, but if you have money, it’s best to start storing now.”

“I’m going home right now,” a man said, dropping his bowl of noodles and leaving in a hurry.

In the blink of an eye, the once-chatty crowd at the noodle stall had dispersed completely.

Hearing all of this, Qian Chunhua’s expression grew solemn.

The situation outside was even worse than what the village chief had told her.

She needed to act fast to store water.

In the silence, two bowls of noodles were served.

The world may be in chaos, but nothing is more important than a full stomach.

No matter what, eating came first.

After downing a bowl of spicy noodles, Qian Chunhua felt refreshed.

Though the flavor couldn’t compare to what she had in the modern world, it still satisfied her craving.

Qingsong also finished his noodles and fried egg, licking the corners of his mouth with a hint of longing.

At this age, boys could eat a family into poverty.

“Are you full?” Qian Chunhua asked with a smile. If he wasn’t, she would order another bowl for him.

“I’m full,” Qingsong replied shyly.

He had never eaten such delicious noodles. Though his belly was full, his mouth still craved more.

After the meal, Qian Chunhua took Qingsong to a fabric shop.

She planned to buy some cotton cloth to make innerwear for the three children, and some more to make two sets of outerwear for each of them. She also needed two new sets for herself.

She didn’t need innerwear—her space had plenty of thermal underwear, which she could wear underneath.

However, the down jackets from her space looked too out of place in this era.

She couldn’t wear them outside, so she needed proper outerwear to blend in.

After the treatment she’d received today at the western private school, Qian Chunhua no longer felt like tiptoeing around. If she continued to live like the original host, she’d only suffer for it.

She would wear better clothes and eat better food—let the villagers gossip if they wanted. At worst, they’d say she didn’t know how to live frugally.

At least Zhao Yongqiang’s family had publicly compensated her two hundred taels of silver. Buying things with that money wouldn’t raise suspicions.

In the fabric shop, she bought enough material for six sets of innerwear and five jin of cotton to make two cotton jackets and pants for each of the three children.

The purchase cost her a total of 800 copper coins—much to Qingsong’s dismay.

Next, she planned to buy a water jar.

“Mom, Uncle Wang San in the village can make water jars,” Qingsong reminded her.

Qian Chunhua suddenly remembered—Wang San, the younger brother of Wang the carpenter, was a stonemason who made and sold jars to the villagers.

She slapped her forehead and smiled. “What a forgetful mother you have. Buying from your Uncle Wang San will save us from having to haul it back from town.”

Carrying the cotton and fabric, she and Qingsong made their way back to Huanghualing.

She planned to share the news from the noodle shop with her mother—at the very least, they needed to start storing grain and firewood.

“Qingsong, do you know if anyone in the village sells firewood?”

With the new heated bed, they would need a lot of wood. If she had to cut it all herself, she’d collapse from exhaustion.

Qingsong smiled. “Mom, there’s firewood all over Lion Mountain. Who would buy it?”

In other words, no one bought it, so no one sold it.

“I can go to the mountain every day to chop wood,” he offered.

It had been three days since he was accepted back by his mother, and every day had been filled with good food and care. If he could help the family by chopping wood, Qingsong would feel like he had real value.

Qian Chunhua shook her head. “No, you need to go to school. You can’t waste your time chopping firewood.”

Her space had plenty of charcoal, but no firewood.

The heated bed had to burn wood, not coal, so she needed a large supply of firewood.

Qingsong hesitated, then finally spoke, “Mom, actually… I can go study with Master Qian in the village.”

Master Qian.

A name surfaced in her memory.

He was a distant relative—a grandson of her grandfather’s younger brother.

He was five years younger than her, and currently twenty-three.

His real name was Qian Xingli. A clever youth, he passed the county-level exam at sixteen and continued his studies elsewhere.

Three years ago, he suddenly returned to Huanghualing and never left. Rumors had it that he’d plagiarized a fellow student’s work and was expelled and reported to the authorities, banned for life from taking the civil exams.

Since returning to the village, unable to do physical labor and possessing no other skills beyond reading, he made a living by taking on children for basic education.

When Zhao Qingyun started school, the Zhao family refused to let him study with Master Qian, calling him immoral.

They sent him to the western private school instead.

Whether the plagiarism incident was true, Qian Chunhua didn’t know. But from the original host’s memories, Master Qian seemed like a decent person.

Still, the original host’s judgment wasn’t exactly reliable, so she couldn’t make a firm decision yet.

If Qian Xingli’s character was indeed upright, then he would be a perfect tutor. In these turbulent times, traveling to the county daily was risky.

If there was a school in the village, it would be ideal.

Decision made, she responded, “We’ll visit Master Qian once we get home. If he’s suitable, you’ll begin studying with him.”

Qingsong replied happily, “Mom, after school, I can still go chop firewood.”

He was constantly thinking of ways to contribute to the family.

Qian Chunhua smiled, rubbed his head, and didn’t discourage his enthusiasm.