Chapter Seven: Scheming Paths to Wealth

At the doorway stood a small figure, trembling all over. Watching her brother and parents being beaten so mercilessly, she felt neither pity nor anger—only an indescribable sense of relief.

Liang Yunqing recognized her as Liang Zhiyan’s youngest daughter, the same age as her own sister, named Liang Xiaohong—another pitiable child.

“Xiaohong, come here,” Liang Yunqing called.

At the sound of her name, Xiaohong put down the heavy firewood and cautiously stepped forward, her large, watery eyes filled with childlike admiration as she looked at Liang Yunqing.

Since Xiaohong could remember, she had never eaten her fill; every day was filled with beatings and humiliation. Whenever her brothers made mistakes, she was punished, and when her mother was upset, she would vent on Xiaohong.

Seeing the people on the ground, even though she was young, she felt a strong sense of satisfaction.

“Cousin, you’re amazing,” Xiaohong said.

Liang Yunqing smiled and patted her head. Then, remembering something, she rose and walked over to Wang’s bulky figure, pulling out a cloth bundle from beneath her.

She weighed it—a sum of about 500 wen inside. That made a total of 729 wen with the money she already held.

“Let’s go buy some food and supplies,” she said, beckoning the two little girls. Hearing the word “food,” both immediately followed. Liang Yunqing’s stomach had been growling for some time, and after the recent beating, she was even hungrier.

She helped her mother, Chu, to her feet and led her out to shop.

She had already checked the kitchen before; even the mice couldn’t find anything to steal. Chu was calmer now, timidly glancing back at the fallen figures.

“大丫, are we just going to ignore your father and grandmother?” Chu asked.

“Of course not. I’m taking mother to buy food for them right now,” Liang Yunqing replied, her smile not reaching her eyes.

The group—two adults and two children—arrived at the village entrance and boarded a horse-drawn carriage headed for the town.

The driver was a middle-aged man with a kindly face and a rough voice.

“Well, Mrs. Liang, taking the kids to the county today?” he greeted.

Chu replied awkwardly with a few words, and the four settled into the carriage, pulled by a sturdy brown horse with a simple wooden platform behind.

Liang Yunqing looked around curiously. The original book’s Beipo Village was indeed very remote, surrounded by mountains on all sides.

She glanced at the driver and quietly asked her silently sitting mother, “Mother, what’s this driver’s name?”

Chu shook her head and whispered, “We just call him Little Ma.”

Liang Yunqing looked up and said, “Uncle Ma, I might be taking your carriage often in the future. Does this carriage go into the county town?”

Little Ma flicked his whip and replied, “That’s good. I take this cart to the county town every five days to haul mountain goods. Are you going there too?”

“Not necessarily, just saying,” Liang Yunqing answered.

Inside, she was already plotting. The 700-plus wen wouldn’t last long if only used for food. She couldn’t let the Liang family starve to death—the story had to continue with the original characters alive.

She needed to find a way to earn money. Though she had read many novels, experiencing life in this world was quite different.

In usual novels, heroines attracted customers with novel foods, but in reality, such ventures might be more trouble than they were worth.

She would have to assess the situation once they reached the town and county.

After a shaky ride, they arrived in town. The original heroine had no memory of the town, probably never having come before.

The two little girls were thrilled.

The wider streets were lined with a few scattered shops selling rice, oil, ready-made clothes, and fabrics.

Street vendors with steaming hot food stalls dotted the roads. Liang Yunqing caught a whiff of meat and led the group toward a small stall.

“Fresh hot meat buns! Anyone want some?” called a plump woman cheerfully.

“How much each?” Liang Yunqing asked, reaching into her cloth bag.

“Three wen for a pork bun, one wen for a vegetable bun. How many would you like?”

Hearing the prices, Chu immediately lowered her head and whispered, “Mother isn’t hungry; just buy some for the girls.”

“Alright, eight pork buns and four vegetable buns,” Liang Yunqing said, handing over 28 wen.

The vendor, unused to such generosity, quickly packed the buns for them.

For Ayan and Xiaohong, eating meat was a rare luxury—something they had only dreamed of. Now, with the fragrant buns suddenly in their hands, their eyes sparkled as they hurriedly stuffed them into their mouths regardless of the heat.

“Mother, you eat too,” Liang Yunqing urged, seeing her mother nibbling at a vegetable bun.

She handed her a big meat bun instead. “Eat this first.”

Tears welled in Chu’s eyes as she took the meat bun and chewed slowly. It had been so long she had almost forgotten the taste of meat.

After finishing one, she refused to eat a second.

“Daya, eat more. I’ll just have another vegetable bun,” she said.

Liang Yunqing couldn’t persuade her further, so she broke the extra meat buns in half and gave each half to Ayan and Xiaohong.

After their meal, the four wandered the town. Liang Yunqing carefully observed the passersby—their clothing and appearance didn’t suggest much wealth.

Most wore coarse linen or hemp clothes; only a few had cotton garments.

Further along, many young, strong men were carrying goods, sweat pouring as they loaded mountain products onto ox carts.

After sufficient observation, they returned to where they had disembarked. Liang Yunqing bought five jin of coarse flour from a grain shop, plus one jin of glutinous rice, four jin of brown rice, and after some thought, four jin of white rice.

She also visited an oil shop for a small basin of lard, a jug of soy sauce, and coarse salt. Just before boarding, she bought one jin of pork.

With bags full, they boarded the carriage. Chu frowned and asked the question she had been meaning to ask.

“Daya, you bought so many things. How much money do you have left? What if Cripple Chen comes looking for you?”

Liang Yunqing waved her hand casually.

“Mother, I’ve already thought of a plan. I’ll need your help going forward.”

She counted the expenses: 208 wen on rice and flour alone, and with seasonings and pork, a total of 288 wen spent this trip.

Leaning back against the rice sacks, Liang Yunqing cradled the few remaining coins.

Chu glanced at her daughter from time to time—her transformation was astonishing. Was this really her child?

Nearby, Ayan nestled into Chu’s arms, patting her round belly contentedly and said in a soft childish voice, “Mama, I like this sister. She brought us meat buns so we’re not hungry.”

Chu’s gaze softened, a smile playing on her lips as she patted Ayan’s plump belly with her rough, cracked hand.

“Yes... Mama likes this Daya too.”

Before nightfall, the four returned home. By then, those who had been lying on the ground had already regained consciousness.