Two days later, after stockpiling grain, Uncle Ding arrived with his team at Qian Chunhua’s field.

Without delay, the group began construction on the tea stand.

Since they had worked together once before, Qian Chunhua fully trusted Uncle Ding’s team and didn’t feel the need to supervise in person.

Taking advantage of the free time, she went back up Lion Mountain to chop firewood. With the help of her electric chainsaw, she quickly filled her storage space with chopped wood.

Not only was the Qian family woodshed packed to the brim, but even her own woodshed was stacked full.

It took a full five days to charge the lithium battery stored in the shed, simply because the solar panel she had was too small.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough space to set up more solar panels.

She couldn’t lay them out in the open either, so she had no choice but to make do.

Low power was better than no power at all.

Just in time, Qian’s mother had finished sewing the inner layers of clothing for the three children.

Qian Chunhua took Qingfeng to the Qian family house and prepared to use the washing machine to clean the mountain of dirty laundry she had accumulated.

It wasn’t convenient to use the washing machine at home when Qingfeng was around.

She took out an inverter from her storage, connected it to the lithium battery, then plugged in the washing machine.

Just like that, it worked.

Unfortunately, despite being a fully automatic machine, Qian Chunhua had to use it like a semi-automatic one—because there was no running water.

Every time the washer needed water, she had to fill it manually with a bucket.

Still, having the machine greatly freed her hands during the freezing winter.

By noon, all the laundry had been washed.

She hung it by the wall to dry and let out a satisfied sigh. A washing machine really made life easier.

Aside from doing laundry, Qian Chunhua spent the rest of her time preparing cooked food, just as she had planned.

From her storage, she took out pork, beef, ribs, and more, gradually cooking them into braised pork, sweet-and-sour ribs, spicy beef jerky, five-spice beef jerky…

She steamed buns, made meat pies, fried cabbages and potatoes, prepared a variety of stir-fries and stews…

The mouthwatering aroma wafted across the neighborhood, torturing her neighbors with its deliciousness.

Next door, Zhao Daqing cursed under his breath at what he saw as a wasteful woman, but there was nothing he could do about it.

As for Zhao Yongqiang and his wife, after being put in their place several times by Qian Chunhua, they dared not make any trouble, even if their mouths watered at the smells.

Only Zhao Qingyun lingered around her doorstep a few times.

After recovering from a fever—thanks to his strong constitution despite having only taken medicine once—he returned to school.

Tuition for private school was paid in six-month intervals.

Although Zhao Yongqiang claimed they had no more silver, Zhao Qingyun’s fees were covered until year’s end, so he could still attend school.

However, instead of being escorted to and from school as before, Zhao Qingyun now had to travel alone.

Before reuniting with his birth parents, it was Qian Chunhua who woke up early to make his breakfast, and little Zhao Xiaoling who brought him water for washing.

After reuniting with his parents, Li Cuihong would make breakfast—if she happened to get up. If not, too bad.

Luckily, Zhao’s mother still woke up early and would make breakfast for Zhao Qingyun when Li Cuihong didn’t, so at least he didn’t go to school hungry.

But after the family split, no one cared anymore.

Zhao Yongqiang and Li Cuihong had silently accepted the fact that they couldn’t afford to keep sending him to school.

He’d study until the end of the year, and that would be it.

Since they had already made that decision, Li Cuihong no longer bothered with him at all.

Thus, the former “hope of the Zhao family” became the discarded child of the eldest household.

No one made breakfast for him, and he didn’t know how to cook for himself.

If there were leftovers like cornbread from the previous night, he’d eat that with cold water in the morning.

If not, he could only go to school on an empty stomach.

Thankfully, lunch at the private school had already been paid for, so he at least got one full meal a day.

The food he once scorned had now become his only source of nourishment.

At night, if he was lucky, he’d make it home in time to eat with the family.

If unlucky, they would’ve already eaten, and he’d be left with nothing but pot-rinse water.

The neglect made Zhao Qingyun think longingly of how well Qian Chunhua had treated him.

After several failed attempts lingering outside her door, he finally mustered the courage one day after school to knock.

Qingsong opened the door and was surprised to see Zhao Qingyun standing there.

He knew how kind his mother had once been to Qingyun, so he didn’t know how to react—he just stepped aside and let him in.

Zhao Qingyun saw that Qingsong’s clothes were clean, his face fuller and fairer — no longer gaunt.

The scars on his face were gone, and his features faintly resembled his second aunt’s.

A flicker of jealousy crossed Zhao Qingyun’s heart.

All of this used to belong to him.

When Qian Chunhua noticed that Qingsong hadn’t returned after opening the door, she came out to look — and instantly saw Zhao Qingyun walking in.

Her face darkened.

She didn’t want to provoke the eldest household, but neither did she want to have anything to do with them.

She wasn’t the original soul of this body and had no lingering motherly feelings for Zhao Qingyun.

All she felt toward him was contempt—for having known the truth and still choosing to aid his wrongdoers.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone was cold.

Zhao Qingyun froze.

Her attitude was hard to read.

But since he had come, he had to try.

Tears welled in his eyes as he looked regretfully at her and said, “Mom… I missed you.”

If it had been the original Qian Chunhua, her heart might have softened.

After all, she’d doted on this child like the apple of her eye for eight years.

A simple “I missed you” might have erased all his wrongdoings.

Qingyun’s words made Qingsong uneasy.

He glanced nervously at his mother.

Qian Chunhua frowned in disgust. “Don’t call me that. I’m not your mother — I’m Qingsong’s mother.”

Zhao Qingyun stood rooted to the spot, struck as if by lightning.

He had known she didn’t care for him anymore — but he hadn’t expected such cruelty.

Only Qingsong, hearing her words, relaxed ever so slightly.

Zhao Qingyun suddenly burst into loud sobs. “Mom, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left you. I shouldn’t have listened to Uncle and Aunt. I shouldn’t have abandoned you.”

Qian Chunhua stepped back, distancing herself.

The more he cried, the more she worried the eldest household would try to cling to her.

“Don’t cry. You didn’t abandon us — you were never my child to begin with. I don’t want you.”

She was resolute.

“No, Mom, that’s not true! You’re still mad at me, aren’t you? It’s my fault. You used to say I was your precious one — that you couldn’t live without me!”

Zhao Qingyun sobbed, repeating words the original Qian Chunhua had once said.

Qian Chunhua sighed and shook her head. “My precious one is my son — Qingsong. Zhao Qingyun, don’t get confused. You’re not my son. How could you be my precious one?”

His cries carried over the courtyard walls, reaching even the house two doors down.

Li Cuihong perked up her ears.

After listening for a while, she nudged Zhao Yongqiang. “Listen, isn’t that Qingyun crying?”

Zhao Yongqiang turned over. “What nonsense. Why would Qingyun be crying?”

“You’re right,” she muttered. “He should be home from school by now. Why isn’t he back yet?”

After a moment’s pause, she snuggled back under the blanket.

The weather was far too cold.

The only warmth was under the covers.