After several nights of just porridge, Clara had had enough. She told Lester Liew, "Tonight, I want white rice."
In Lester's heart: This woman's going to bankrupt us!
Outwardly, he quickly agreed, nodding and fawning while getting the fire going and rinsing the rice to cook.
Clara had returned home later than usual today—probably around eight-thirty in the evening. In a village like Liew Clan Village, most folks who ate early were already asleep, deep in dreams by then.
Lester and the four kids had already eaten dinner earlier, but once Clara brought back meat buns, their stomachs all conveniently started growling. They waited patiently for Lester to heat up the buns and portion them out.
The six of them gathered around the table in the main hall. Clara laid out the packet of roasted broad beans she'd brought back. The four children's eyes lit up instantly.
Deb looked at her with delight, her voice soft and sweet. "Mom, you're even better than God."
Clara waved her over, and the little girl immediately nestled against her, grabbing the front of Clara's blouse, eyes twinkling with joy.
"Better than God?" Clara asked with a grin.
Deb nodded hard. "Mhm!"
Clara laughed and pointed to her cheek. Deb looked puzzled for a second before realizing what she meant. A little shy, she tiptoed and gave Clara a quick peck on the cheek.
Clara's heart melted. She pulled Deb into her lap and planted two loud smooches on her, making the girl giggle as they playfully wrestled.
Meanwhile, Adam, Ben, and Chad were quietly peeling all the broad beans and putting them in a small bowl. They then pushed it toward Clara and waited patiently for her to divide it.
With Clara at home, the children never had to worry about missing out on good food.
Ben figured his siblings wouldn't mind if he got a little creative during the wait. He picked up the already-tasted broad bean skins and started sucking on them one by one, savoring the lingering flavor before discarding each and grabbing a fresh handful.
Last time it was chicken bones, now it's broad bean skins. Clara had to look away.
Ben Liew, kiddo, your tastes are... unique.
Still, Clara remembered what the experts said—don't interfere with a child's preferences. Let him explore freely. So, she let it go.
Just don't do it in front of guests.
The peeled beans only filled a small dish. Clara—Master of Equitable Portions—divided them equally between the four siblings.
As for Lester, there was no need to worry about him. All he had to do was sweet-talk one of the kids and his mouth would never go empty.
Clara had noticed that while the kids were generally clever and wouldn't easily give away food to others, they all let their guard down around Lester. Even Ben would fall for it.
Perhaps it was some innate bloodline suppression?
Clara shook her head. She didn't understand it, and frankly, she didn't want to. She just focused on her own meal.
Lester had cooked three bowls of white rice. The gourds growing in their front yard were still immature, so vegetables were scarce. Tonight's side dish was pickled veggies he'd bought from Peddler Liew.
But knowing Clara liked good food—and that her good mood meant peace at home—Lester even cracked an egg to make her a soup.
With white rice, side dishes, and soup, Clara was more than satisfied.
She didn't eat the remaining four meat buns. After having them for several days in a row, they weren't quite as tempting anymore.
Even the children didn't seem as obsessed with them now.
Lester split one bun each for Adam, Ben, and Chad, while he shared the last one with little Deb. It made for a nice midnight snack to accompany Clara's dinner.
In the countryside, nine o'clock was already considered deep into the night, but the family of six had eaten so much they couldn't sleep.
Clara had planned to tell them tomorrow about taking the month-long job as a bodyguard at Master Ding's estate. But since no one was sleepy, she decided to share the news now.
The happiest of all was, of course, Lester—two whole taels of silver!
That was what their watermill would earn in a year. Now they'd get that in just a month. If Clara had turned it down, he might've scolded her to death.
Thankfully, the "wicked woman" had some sense and agreed.
Plus, with her out of the house, he'd finally be able to breathe. All he had to do was check the fields three times a day, weed the garden, and plant a few more vegetables in the newly cleared land out back. Most chores were light and easily managed.
And let's not forget the four obedient little helpers—his kids.
Clara caught a glimpse of Lester's unrestrained joy and couldn't stand it. She kicked him squarely.
"Ah, ouch!" Lester yelped and immediately straightened up, putting on a serious face.
The children were used to this. Knowing Clara would be gone for a month, they looked at her with reluctance but quickly nodded. They understood she was earning money for the family and promised to keep an eye on their father to make sure he didn't stir up trouble.
For the next few days, the kids clung to Clara like glue.
Lester, though trying to appear subdued, couldn't hide his bouncy steps—clearly dreaming of his impending freedom.
In the village, there was never truly a slack season. Right now, it was silkworm time, and every household was busy weaving. Compared to others, Clara's home life seemed downright relaxed.
Over the next few days, Clara rarely left the house except for early morning training and fetching water.
Lester could handle the farm work alone. Meanwhile, Clara took the opportunity to teach the children a few more ancient poems.
She also started martial arts training for Adam, teaching him a few basic combat moves so he'd have something to practice while she was away.
Lester occasionally peeked at their training sessions, growing more uneasy the longer he watched.
Why did every move Clara taught Adam seem so deadly?
If it wasn't kicking someone's shin, it was breaking a finger or jabbing a stick into someone's kidney. Was this really appropriate for a child?
When Clara came into the kitchen carrying chopped firewood that evening, Lester finally asked what exactly she was teaching the boy.
Clara replied casually, "Just some self-defense techniques."
Lester's eyes widened. "That's self-defense? Those are killing moves! Doesn't your conscience hurt calling them self-defense?"
Conscience? Clara sneered. "Will a conscience keep you alive?"
"What if some bandits come raiding the village again while I'm gone? You gonna line everyone up to die with you?"
Lester muttered, "The authorities are already cracking down on the bandits. They won't be back."
Even as he said it, he wasn't convinced. It'd been over four months since New Year's. If the suppression effort had worked, the bandits should've been gone by now.
But travelers returning from the west side of the province said bandits were still harassing trade routes—less brazen, maybe, but definitely not gone.
"Still," Lester grumbled, "it's not right to teach kids this stuff."
"You want to teach me how to do things?" Clara's eyes narrowed dangerously.
Lester panicked. "No no, I wouldn't dare…"
Clara gave a scornful snort and swept her gaze across the stove. "What's for dinner?"
"Egg and wild greens with flour dumplings," Lester replied carefully. "We've still got lots of flour. Better to use that up before moving on to millet. And let's save the white rice—it's getting low."
Clara nodded and went to check the pantry.
(End of Chapter)
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