Clara quietly listened to Lester's explanation before raising an eyebrow and asking, "So, how much do you want this time? We need to stock up for winter. If we can't get fresh vegetables, pickled ones will do."
Lester replied confidently, "Of course, my dear. Just hand me the money, and I'll take care of it."
After more than a month of hands-on experience, he could now say with pride—no one in the house understood the kitchen better than he did!
Seeing his confidence, Clara gestured for him to name an amount.
Lester had already decided before coming over—he asked for 400 copper coins. That would cover a month's worth of meals and allow him to stock up on long-lasting vegetables like radishes and Chinese cabbage.
Oh right—Peddler Liew's wife made the best pickled vegetables in the village. He should find time to get a few jars from her. When the snow came and they couldn't leave the house, a bowl of plain porridge with pickles would still make a hearty meal.
Clara was prudent with money, knowing when to save and when to spend. Without hesitation, she handed Lester four silver coins.
Copper coins were more commonly used in the countryside, with smaller silver pieces circulating occasionally. As Lester eyed the silver in his palm, he inwardly clicked his tongue—he'd have to exchange these for copper again.
Peddler Liew's household always had change. He'd go there next time they needed oil or salt.
If it were anyone else, exchanging money might incur a two- or three-coin fee, which was hardly worth it.
Neither of them knew exactly when it started, but at some point, they had slipped into a new rhythm: she handled the outside affairs, he managed the home.
But truth be told, it seemed to be working—there hadn't been any major conflicts, and Clara found the arrangement acceptable.
She had high standards for food and living, but didn't care to fuss over the details. Lester might be a good-for-nothing in other matters, but when it came to housework, he was surprisingly capable.
Preparing three meals a day might not sound like much, but doing it every day, on repeat, was exactly the kind of monotonous task Clara detested.
She felt it was a waste of her time and strength to do housework. Better to spend it chopping firewood or hunting in the mountains—good exercise, too.
Thanks to their improved meals over the past month, the five Liew father and kids had all filled out considerably.
Little Chad and Deb now had adorably round cheeks. Clara couldn't help but give them a squeeze whenever she passed by.
The two little ones adored her. They didn't cry when she pinched their cheeks—on the contrary, they grinned at her, as if inviting more. How could she resist?
Clara stepped out into the backyard and saw the four siblings sparring with sticks. Amused, she picked one out of the woodpile and joined them.
The children beamed in surprise and glee before immediately teaming up, aiming their wooden swords squarely at her.
Over the past month, Clara had observed that the village children fell into two groups.
Those over seven typically helped out—boys worked the fields with their fathers, while girls stayed home learning household skills like weaving and sewing under their mothers or grandmothers.
The under-seven crowd didn't go to school and were too small for chores. Every day, a noisy group of them would run wild around the village well.
They were free—perhaps too free. But it was the kind of freedom born from having no other choices.
Of course, this was in peaceful times. Just two years ago, during the chaos, families would lock their doors, children would stay curled up inside, too hungry and tired to even play.
Still, regardless of age, the life paths of these village children seemed predetermined.
Girls learned the skills to manage a home, then married and had children, repeating the cycle.
Boys toiled in the fields all their lives until they died.
In this rigidly stratified society, a farmer would remain a farmer forever. Upward mobility? Barely imaginable.
No, not impossible—just rare.
The only real path out was through education.
But even that scared most villagers.
Clara had once casually asked why Ryder and Rosie weren't sent to school to learn to read.
At that, the expressions on the entire old Liew household shifted in unison.
Doreen had chuckled awkwardly. "You can read and write, Sister-in-law. Must've had a good life before. But look at us now—how could we afford schooling?"
Brandon, wiping mud from his hoe, added calmly, "What's the point of a year or two of learning? They'd still end up farming. Just a waste of silver."
Martha Liew, sorting vegetable seeds beside Clara, sighed. "The school's in Goldstone Town. It's a three-hour round trip. Some folks have thought about sending their kids to learn a few characters, maybe get a town job someday."
"But with all the fields we have to work, and the children still so young, it's not safe on the road. They'd need to be escorted every day."
"No one has the time, and the carriage alone costs four coins a day. Most bring the kids home after just two weeks—it's too expensive to keep up."
"Now look at our fourth son—already betrothed, working well in the fields. Life's not bad."
In other words, even the better-off families in Liew Clan Village couldn't afford schooling, let alone those still struggling to make ends meet.
Kate added, "And that's just travel and tuition. What about the hidden costs—brushes, ink, paper, inkstones? All consumables. You'd have to keep supplying them."
Studying? It was a luxury the average peasant couldn't even dream of!
Looking back, it really was miraculous that Lester had gotten to attend school in town for over a year.
If he hadn't been such a scoundrel... If his father hadn't refused to give up on him and had tried to reform him with a teacher... he never would've set foot in a classroom.
Clack!A loud snap jolted Clara from her thoughts.
Lost in them, she had knocked all four of the children's wooden sticks from their hands in a single move.
The children stood wide-eyed, looking both wronged and indignant.
Clara flashed them an encouraging smile. "Pick them up. Let's go again!"
Children were naturally competitive. The four of them refused to believe they couldn't disarm their stepmother.
But reality was cruel.
Clara wielded her stick with ease, weaving through their attacks like a slippery fish. They couldn't even touch her.
Soon, Chad and Deb were winded and dropped out, panting heavily.
Seeing how hopeless it was, Ben lost motivation too. Clara's stick came sweeping in and sent his flying over the courtyard wall into the tall grass beyond.
"Ugh!" Ben huffed, throwing up his hands and retreating to join the twins at the wall, cheering on their big brother.
Adam, still holding firm, surprised Clara. He was calm, unlike the others who got flustered easily.
After a month of catching river fish without a single catch, his patience had been forged through failure.
Clara saw the sweat dripping down his forehead, but he refused to back down. Each time his stick was knocked aside, he picked it up again and charged back in.
Then, Clara changed tactics—switching to offense. With her height advantage, she aimed directly for his wrist.
To her surprise, he sensed her move in advance and dodged instinctively, albeit clumsily.
Although she still managed to knock his stick away with her next strike, the fact that he dodged her first blow left her genuinely impressed.
This kid…
He has the talent for martial arts!
(End of Chapter)
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