Clara looked up in irritation and said flatly, "Put that idea to rest. The main ingredient is lard. We can't afford to turn this into a business. Besides, I have other plans for the recipe—so don't waste your energy. It won't make us rich."
Lester Liew inwardly gasped. Lard?
No wonder it worked so well.
But—
"What do you plan to use the recipe for?" he asked, curious.
Clara shot him a glare. "Mind your own business."
Lester gave her a sheepish smile. "Right, of course. I'll leave you to your rest then, wife. Don't stay up too late reading that ledger—your eyes are precious."
And with that, he retreated swiftly, his survival instincts sharp.
Before going to bed, he found an old clay bowl in the kitchen, lined it with ash, and filled it with a few glowing coals—just enough to keep from freezing to death overnight.
Truthfully, Clara had never skimped on his bedding. The room had a thick cotton quilt and all.
But the room itself had been unoccupied too long—it was damp and cold. At night, the chill seemed to seep straight into the bedding. Without some warmth to drive it out, one could easily fall ill.
Clara had already made up her mind: next year, if she had the time, she'd install wooden floors in all the rooms to make the home more comfortable.
If she had even more time, she'd build an extra room, reinforce the stable, and add a shed for storing the carriage.
Oh—and she absolutely had to teach Adam how to ride. That was non-negotiable after the New Year.
If conditions allowed, she'd also like to buy a smaller pony for the children to use on their way to school.
Old Yeller was far too tall—completely unsuitable for Adam and Ben's height. If they fell off, they'd crack their butts in half.
She'd originally designed the carriage for school use, but it still required an adult to drive it. Eventually, Clara realized she wouldn't have time to pick them up and drop them off every day.
She had too much else to do—installations at the water mill factory, farm work—all of it fell on her.
But all these plans required silver.
Clara exhaled a long breath. With the nosy people out of the way, she finally had a moment of peace to go over the household finances.
She'd just settled Manager Wu's order, earning fifty taels of silver. After deducting costs, the profit came to twenty taels, split evenly with Carpenter Liew—ten taels each.
Those ten taels, combined with the 206 taels and 8 silver coins already in the house, brought their total assets to 216 taels and 8 silver coins.
They'd just spent a good bit on New Year goods and half a pig. After accounting for that, they were left with 214 taels even.
Money from the water mill was usually spent each month and not included in her total.
She'd been trying to buy farmland since October, but even by year's end, she hadn't succeeded. The plots were either too scattered or not high quality—just average fields.
And average fields weren't even worth it; it was better to continue renting fertile land from Frank Liew's household.
But Frank was holding firm on the land she wanted, and Clara couldn't force his hand. She'd just have to wait. A major purchase like land couldn't be rushed.
Old Walter agreed. He'd asked around at several households and hadn't found anything suitable. He told her it was better to be patient than buy in haste and take a loss.
Besides, who could say what next year would bring?
Tonight's snowfall had been light—barely a thin layer of icy flakes, which had quickly melted. After dinner, Old Walter stepped outside and frowned.
A heavy snow was a sign of a bountiful year. A small one wouldn't kill off pests in the soil, and the next year's harvest could suffer.
In the worst cases, it could even lead to a locust plague.
Brandon and the others thought their father was worrying too early. This was only the first snow of the year—maybe it would get heavier in a few days.
Clara laid out all her silver and counted it again. The white gleam of the tael ingots made her heart burn hot.
If only there were a shopping mall nearby, she'd go on a spending spree just to reward herself for a year of hard work.
She counted it three times—each time more addictive than the last. If sleepiness hadn't hit, she might have kept going.
She planned the allocation carefully: 180 taels set aside for buying land—untouchable; 34 taels remained—enough to buy a new horse. The rest would go toward tuition fees and home renovations.
Who knew how many orders the water mill factory would receive in the coming year? Even if it was just occasional small parts or scattered jobs, it would be enough for her and Carpenter Liew to cover daily expenses.
Maybe it was because her basic needs were now secured, or maybe it was the years she spent surviving the apocalypse—either way, Clara rarely worried too much about the future.
She closed her ledger, cast one more loving look at her stash of silver, and turned in for the night.
Finally, a real break. No more waking at dawn for work, and with the fields already tended, she was going to sleep in tomorrow—come hell or high water.
As Clara drifted into a deep, restful sleep, Lester, in the next room, lay wide awake.
He'd just accidentally overheard a muttered "two hundred and fourteen taels" from the main hall, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.
He'd known Clara had money—but he hadn't known how much.
Hearing it directly from her lips hit differently.
Two hundred and fourteen taels.
Two hundred and fourteen! Even if someone sold him by weight, he wouldn't have fetched that much in his prime.
Across the entire Liew Clan Village, only Frank Liew's household could rival that kind of wealth.
Lester stared at the ceiling, heart pounding. With a fortune like this in the house, there was no way he'd ever leave again—even if Clara beat him to death!
Burrowed beneath his thick cotton quilt, Lester could've slapped himself for being such a fool before—trying to leave, offending her...
If he'd just turned down County Scholar Fan earlier and obediently followed that violent woman's study schedule, he'd be living the good life by now!
He tossed and turned all night, thoughts tangled in a mess of regret and relief.
And yet, at the very first crow of the rooster, his body shot upright like it had a mind of its own. His eyes flew open with a sharp glint, even though his eyelids were bruised with fatigue and the whites of his eyes were threaded with red.
Still, his gaze was clear and full of purpose.
He dressed, got out of bed, lit a candle, and laid his books out on the small table.
Only then did reality catch up, and he shivered.
"Damn this... diligence," he muttered, rubbing his temples.
But since he was already up, might as well get to studying.
Outside the window, it was still pitch-black. The snow had stopped sometime during the night—just a light fall that melted into water.
The candlelight flickered against the windowpane, catching drops of melting snow like tiny stars.
The cold bit through the room. Lester exhaled a cloud of white mist—it was freezing.
There were still a few embers left from last night's charcoal. He rushed to the main hall, grabbed more coals to replenish the bowl, fanned them to life, then lit the hall's brazier and set a kettle full of water on top.
Only after all that did he return to his room and begin reciting aloud, warming himself by the fire.
After a couple of passages, he felt it wasn't quite working. He reached into his bundle, pulled out his headband—the one that read "Lord Protect Me"—and tied it on. The moment he did, he felt the aura return.
By the time a faint glow crept across the horizon, he put down his book and walked to the kitchen, firing up the stove to prepare breakfast for the family.
While the pot simmered, he hauled out water buckets and began hauling water back and forth until the water vat was filled.
Adam, up early for morning practice, was surprised to find the lights already on in both the kitchen and main hall. He stepped inside—the hall was warm and cozy, and freshly boiled water was steaming on the table.
"Adam," Lester called softly from the kitchen, "Use the warm water on the table to wash up—won't hurt your teeth."
Ben came bouncing out of his room next.
Lester immediately hushed him and pointed toward the master bedroom.
"Quiet—don't wake your stepmother."
Both boys tilted their heads and stared at the sky.
Did the sun rise in the west today or something?
(End of Chapter)
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