After leaving the old pagoda tree, Qingsong’s eyes sparkled as he looked up at his mother with admiration.

The moment Qian Chunhua kicked Li Cuihong, Qingsong suddenly realized that his eldest aunt wasn’t all that terrifying after all.

At least, with his mother by his side, he no longer felt the fear he once had.

Qian Chunhua had no idea what was going on in his mind.

Seeing him silent, she assumed he was still frightened.

“Qingsong,” she said, “Li Cuihong’s actions have shown she’s not fit to be considered an elder. From now on, you don’t need to call her aunt.

We’ve already severed ties with her. If you ever have a conflict with her, don’t be afraid. You don’t even need to consider her status. If you need to fight back, then do it. That goes not only for her, but for Zhao Yongqiang, Zhao Qingshui, and Zhao Qingyun as well.”

She took the opportunity to educate Qingsong, knowing he still carried psychological shadows—like the way he had reacted in fear when seeing Zhao Yongqiang earlier that morning.

Qingsong nodded, showing he understood. “Mom, what about Grandpa and Grandma?”

Qian Chunhua paused.

The cautious and timid face of Zhao’s mother came to mind.

Compared to Zhao Daqing’s arrogant and self-important demeanor, she felt reluctant to say they should cut ties with Zhao’s mother entirely.

“Your grandparents are still your elders,” she said softly.

In this era, filial piety was held above all else.

Qian Chunhua didn’t dare openly deny the elderly.

Even though they had severed ties, and there was no longer an obligation to support or visit them, blood ties could not be erased.

Nominally, Qingsong was still a descendant of the Zhao family.

Qingsong nodded, somewhat understanding.

When they returned to the Qian household, a delicious smell greeted them.

“Mom!” shouted Qingfeng, who had been playing in the courtyard and spotted them.

He ran toward her with a smile and threw himself into her arms.

Qian Chunhua laughed and scooped him up. “Where’s your sister?”

Qingfeng pointed toward the kitchen. “Sister is in the kitchen helping Grandma with the fire.”

She gave Qingfeng a kiss on the cheek and then handed him to Qingsong. “Watch your brother for me. I’ll help your Grandma with the cooking.”

Qingsong took the basket off her back and held Qingfeng’s hand, then placed the basket in the main room.

Qingfeng peered curiously into it. “Brother, what’s this?”

Qingsong pointed at the cotton and fabric. “Mom bought this to make us winter clothes.”

“Really? We’ll get new cotton clothes for the new year?”

“Really,” Qingsong said with a grin.

The happy days of the past few days were ones he hadn’t dared dream of before.

He knew how hard his mother was working for them.

Feeling he should do something in return, he decided to take Qingfeng to Lion Peak to collect firewood.

Qian Chunhua had no idea about the boys’ plan.

She entered the kitchen.

There, Qian’s mother was rendering lard from the large piece of pork Qian Chunhua had brought back the previous day. Xiaoling was helping by keeping the fire going.

“Mom,” Qian Chunhua called.

“Mom,” Xiaoling echoed, turning her head.

Qian’s mother smiled. “You’re back? Xiaoling, lower the fire a little. Chunhua, take a break. I’ll get you something to drink.”

As she spoke, she wiped her hands and left the kitchen for the main room.

On the table there, a bowl was already prepared with a piece of brown sugar inside.

She poured boiling water into the bowl, stirred it carefully, then gently brought the bowl over and handed it to Qian Chunhua.

“Chunhua, you must be thirsty. Drink up.”

After she handed over the bowl, she looked around. “Where’s Qingsong? Doesn’t he want some sugar water too?”

Qian Chunhua smiled as she accepted the bowl and downed the sweet drink in one gulp. “He took his brother out to play. Mom, this tastes amazing.”

The warm brown sugar water brought comfort from the inside out.

This was what it meant to be cared for. Qian’s mother gave her the best she had.

From her, Qian Chunhua felt a long-lost sense of maternal love.

Xiaoling tossed another log into the fire and turned to say, “Mom, we had some at lunch too. It was super, super delicious.”

Qian Chunhua felt a surge of warmth in her heart. Her mother had been so kind to her family. She felt at ease entrusting her children to her.

“Thank you, Mom,” she said.

“You silly child,” Qian’s mother replied. “Why are you being polite with your own mother?”

Qian Chunhua rinsed the bowl and returned it to the cabinet. “Okay, I won’t be polite anymore. What’s for dinner?”

“I’m still rendering lard. We’ll have lard-crackling dumplings tonight—pork fat and cabbage filling. I’ve already prepared the dough.”

“I’ll help you wrap them.”

Three generations gathered around the table, chatting happily as they made dumplings together.

In just a few days, Xiaoling had become much more cheerful, no longer as timid or small-minded as before.

Her interactions with Qian Chunhua had become less awkward and more affectionate.

Though Qian Chunhua had known Xiaoling was skilled with chores, she hadn’t realized just how capable the girl was.

Xiaoling was fast and precise at wrapping dumplings—each one looked like a little ingot.

Despite having the original host’s memories, Qian Chunhua wasn’t as good as Xiaoling when it came to making dumplings.

In the end, she was assigned to roll the dough skins, while Qian’s mother and Xiaoling wrapped the filling.

Taking advantage of the moment, Qian Chunhua shared what she had seen in the county today and asked, “Mom, should we store some grain too?”

Though her space had plenty of grain, it couldn’t just appear out of thin air. She planned to bring some out and store it in the Qian family’s cellar—along with vegetables, charcoal, and more.

Qian’s mother looked troubled and shook her head.

They didn’t have extra money for hoarding grain.

Still, her daughter’s words made her more alert.

They couldn’t afford grain, but they could at least gather plenty of firewood, which didn’t cost anything.

The mood in the room turned somber, no longer as lighthearted. Even Xiaoling picked up on her grandmother’s concern and fell quiet.

That atmosphere lingered until Qian Xingshan returned, and with him came Qingsong and Qingfeng—each carrying a bundle of firewood.

Qian Chunhua lifted the bundle off Qingsong’s back—it weighed at least thirty jin.

Qingfeng’s bundle weighed about five jin.

The two boys weren’t even worried about stunting their growth from carrying too much. While Qian Chunhua was touched by Qingsong’s thoughtfulness, her heart ached. Children who lacked a sense of security were always trying to prove their worth.

Qian Xingshan and Qian Chunhua quickly helped remove the firewood from their backs and led them to wash their hands for dinner.

For dinner, they had dumplings. Qian Chunhua personally made the dipping sauce—soy sauce, sesame oil, MSG, chili oil, Sichuan pepper powder—all secretly taken from her space.

She didn’t like garlic, and as it turned out, neither did her mother or Qian Xingshan, so they didn’t have to bother peeling any.

Only the three kids couldn’t handle the spice, but Qian’s mother and Qian Xingshan both loved the chili oil.

“Sis, this chili oil is amazing. How did you make it?” Qian Xingshan asked as he ate.

Though chili existed in Minchao, he’d never seen it prepared this way.

“Simple,” said Qian Chunhua. “Grind the chili into powder and pour hot oil over it.”

It was actually a Sichuan-style chili oil recipe. Normally, she’d also add five-spice, star anise, and sprinkle sesame seeds on top. With all those seasonings, of course it was tasty.

Qian’s mother clicked her tongue. “No wonder it tastes so good—so much oil! How could it not?”

“I’ll bring you a jar in a couple of days. Make sure to eat it slowly.”

Qian Chunhua hadn’t expected her mother and brother to enjoy spicy food too. Luckily, she had plenty of chili in her space and could spare some.

“Great,” said Qian Xingshan with a smile.

Qian’s mother didn’t refuse either. This chili oil was just too delicious for her to turn down.