In the end, the fight didn't break out.
All it took was one cold glance from Clara—far more effective than any scolding. Lester Liew immediately settled down, acting far more obedient than before.
Old Walter Liew cast Clara a look of admiration. It really was thanks to her tough love—after that stint at the border, his third son had finally grown up a bit.
Seeing the expression on his face, Martha sidled up behind him and whispered smugly, "See? What did I tell you before? How could Clara possibly wish harm on your son? She didn't pay to exempt him from labor because she wanted to push him to study properly."
Old Walter nodded earnestly. "Yes, yes, you were right."
Martha lifted her chin proudly. "Obviously~"
It was winter, and the days grew dark early. By the time they finished dinner, night had fully fallen.
Clara, Lester, and the four children made their way back home under the light of a torch.
On the way, they passed by the water mill and collected the money box.
It had snowed lightly for most of the day, and the weather was bitterly cold. Few people had come by. Ben shook the money box—it clinked weakly with only a few coins inside.
Sure enough, when they got home and opened it, there were just three copper coins.
Clara pulled out the household ledger. Ben already knew how to record the day's earnings from the mill and dropped the coins into a clay jar in the main hall cabinet.
When he and Adam needed money to buy groceries or supplies, they would take it from that jar and note it in the ledger.
It was a bit tedious, but it worked. Clara was often too busy at the machinery factory to handle daily meals or expenses.
And asking her for money every time they needed something was annoying, even for her. So she'd set up this daily-use fund, pulling it directly from the water mill's profits to cover household spending.
This job had originally been Lester's. Coming home to find his role as treasurer already replaced by Ben left him feeling a little bitter.
Ben locked the cabinet and looped the key onto a string he wore around his neck, only taking it off when bathing.
With perfect seriousness, he walked under the corridor eaves where Lester was adding charcoal to a brazier for smoking meat.
"Dad," Ben said solemnly, "Mama said now that you're back, you're in charge of our three daily meals. So if you need to use any money... you'll have to come through me."
Lester gawked. He was so stunned he nearly burned his fingers in the coals.
He recoiled, sucking in cold air as he cried out, "You mean I've gotta ask my own son for money?!"
Ben raised a hand and gestured at the whole house. "That's right. Anyone in this family who wants money comes through me."
Inside, Clara nodded her approval while munching on roasted peanuts. "Ben's in charge of the household now."
She figured that learning some basic accounting was a good way to teach kids financial sense. Ben wasn't into martial arts, so he might as well manage the money.
Besides, it wasn't a huge amount. Even if some got lost, it wasn't a big deal—and she got to relax.
Not long ago, Clara had bought half a pig's worth of meat from the town butcher. With help from Doreen and Martha, they'd cut it into strips, cured it, and made twelve slabs of smoked pork.
Now they had several wooden boards set up under the main hall corridor, with a pot of charcoal burning slowly beneath them, covered in ash to allow for a low, steady smoke.
Lester finished sealing the windbreak boards, stood up, and told Ben to bring him a basin of water so he could wash up.
His hands were covered in charcoal, black as if he'd just come out of a coal mine.
There was always hot water boiling on the brazier in the main hall. In honor of his father just returning home, Ben fetched a basin of it, added some cool water, and even handed him a bar of soap.
Lester stared at the bar suspiciously. "What's this?"
"Soap," Ben explained proudly. "You can use it to wash your hands, face, even clothes or your whole body. It makes bubbles. Try it, Dad."
Ben was clearly eager to see his father marvel at this "new" invention.
Unfortunately, Lester was still an adult. Though surprised, he managed to keep a straight face. Ben, disappointed, took the soap back and returned it to the stone platform beside the kitchen door once the lathering was done.
Lester washed thoroughly, sniffed his hands—no strange odor. The soap actually worked pretty well.
"Where'd this come from?" he asked in a hushed voice as he dumped the dirty water.
Ben whispered back, "Mama made it. She's amazing—she knows magic!"
Lester's lips twitched.
That woman, bluffing kids again. There was no such thing as magic!
He wanted to press further about what it was made from, but Ben had already scampered inside, complaining about the cold.
Left alone, Lester glanced at the small white bar of soap on the stone platform. It looked vaguely familiar.
Oh right—he remembered now. County Scholar Fan had once mentioned that his maternal grandfather had brought back a bundle of something called lye soap from the southern Sunfield Province. It was used for bathing and handwashing, made bubbles, and even had a fragrance—much better than washing powder.
Clara's version wasn't scented, likely because she didn't add expensive fragrance oils.
"Wife, that soap of yours can't be cheap to make, right?" he asked as soon as he stepped into the main hall.
Clara gave a nonchalant "Mm." Nothing from a pig came cheap. She motioned for Adam to raise the candle stand higher as she read through a ledger.
Lester tried to sneak a glance, but Clara's gaze snapped up, instantly alert. He could only retreat and sit across from her, pulling out a book from his bundle and pretending to study diligently.
The four children shared a basin to wash their feet, then changed into straw slippers. Adam and Ben split up the charcoal into smaller braziers and brought them into the bedrooms before heading off to rest.
These small braziers were a clever find of Clara's. She'd discovered them in a shop selling ceramic bowls in town. They were shaped like wide-mouthed jars, thick and sturdy.
She brought them home and had Carpenter Liew fashion bamboo outer shells for them, with handles on both sides. Once the ceramic bowl sat inside the bamboo basket, even a child could hold it without getting burned.
She made three: one for herself, and two to be shared between the children in pairs.
On freezing winter nights, they'd fill the braziers with charcoal, cover them with their bamboo lids, and place them under the blankets to warm the beds before sleeping. It made all the difference.
In the children's memories, winter used to be the hardest time of the year.
But now, they had charcoal heat, airtight rooms, soft bedding, and warm hand-held braziers. Curling up in bed, they didn't want to get out at all.
The small braziers could also be held on their laps while studying—perfect for warming cold hands.
Functionally, it was similar to the copper hand warmers used by wealthy families. Less fancy, perhaps, but cheap and practical.
Though, the ceramic bowls probably wouldn't last beyond this winter. They'd need new ones next year.
Clara's clever tricks were all thanks to the modern conveniences she'd learned about in her past life, with its internet full of tips, tools, and regional specialties.
At the time, she'd scrolled past them just for fun. But now? They were making her life much easier.
Lester eyed the small bamboo-handled brazier on Clara's lap, then returned to his curiosity about the soap.
Even County Scholar Fan had praised the stuff—it had to be valuable. If he could make a few extra bars and sell them...
Wouldn't that be a tidy profit?
That burning gleam in his eyes didn't go unnoticed. Clara was well aware of what was going on in that little scheming brain of his.
After all, she'd already considered everything he was imagining now.
There was no way she didn't know exactly what Lester was up to.
(End of Chapter)
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