Clara stepped out the back door and greeted Brandon and Caleb Liew, telling them to call her if they needed anything.

  The brothers waved her off—they were far too busy to spare her a reply.

  Clara shrugged and gave Adam and Ben a small smile, repeating the offer to call her if needed. Then she turned back into the kitchen and asked Chad and Deb inside the house if they’d had breakfast.

  “Mom, we already ate,” Chad answered sweetly. “Big Brother said what’s left in the pot is all yours.”

  Deb was still reciting with her eyes closed, nodding off where she sat, her head bobbing like a little chicken.

  Clara gestured for Chad to keep an eye on her, lest she topple off her chair.

  Chad cast an exasperated glance at his sister and poked her gently in the tummy. Deb instantly snapped her eyes open and reflexively sat upright, then loudly recited:

  “Throw me a papaya, and I’ll repay it with jade, not because I must, but because I cherish your goodwill.”

  Clara chuckled, carrying the pot of congee along with last night’s leftover roast chicken. With the sound of children reciting ringing through the house, even eating felt rhythmic.

  By the time she finished her meal, the reading had ended. Morning study was over, and the twins—who could barely hold it in—had grabbed their little bamboo cages and darted into the backyard to catch bugs for the chickens, and to check on Old Yeller. They brought him some tender grass too.

  Since Clara had strictly warned them not to get too close—lest they get kicked—they kept their distance and used a bamboo stick to poke the grass toward him.

  Watching the horse chew, both children giggled with delight.

  Clara took a hoe and weeded the two-tenth acre vegetable patch behind the house. Her leafy greens, peppers, eggplants, and gourds had all grown somewhat weirdly due to lack of care.

  Still, they were edible—the taste wasn't compromised.

  Those peppers in particular—supposed to be straight and slim—had all grown curly. Likely a seed mix-up from Mdm Zhang.

  But they packed plenty of heat nonetheless.

  After weeding, Clara picked some good-looking eggplants and bottle gourds and went back in to prep lunch.

  Brandon and Caleb had already assembled the frame of the shelter. Later that afternoon, they’d fetch some reeds from the river to weave into a roof—close to finished.

  When winter came, Clara would add straw mats for warmth—more than sufficient.

  If she had the budget, planks would be sturdier, but they were more work and costlier. That’d be her call.

  With the frame up, future upgrades would be easy.

  Clara invited the brothers to stay for lunch. They agreed—it would save time and help them finish sooner.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The sun was high by noon, and lunch wasn’t quite ready yet. Caleb dragged over a thick round log and sat by the back threshold, chiseling a feed trough out of it.

  When Clara came to call them in for lunch, she was surprised by the log.

  “That’s a fine piece of wood. You’re using it for a feed trough?”

  Caleb scratched his head sheepishly. “Dad said it’s just lying around unused. Might as well make it into a feed trough. It’s the perfect size.”

  It was indeed perfect—but a fine log like that was worth a bit of silver.

  Clara thought about paying them back, but Brandon, catching her intention, grew flustered.

  “Sis-in-law, don’t even think about it. That big bundle of meat you gave us last night—do you know how many logs that could buy?”

  Clara didn’t insist. She smiled and nodded. “Alright then, I’ll take it.”

  The brothers grinned. “Great!”

  “Alright, go wash your hands. Lunch is ready. I’ll warn you—my cooking’s nothing special, so go easy on me.”

  Despite the heads-up, Brandon and Caleb were still taken aback when they saw the dish on the table: a mushy stew, green tinged with purple, and purple tinged with green.

  They exchanged a worried glance. Poisonous?

  Adam was ushering the kids in to eat. Clara sat down last, picked up her chopsticks, scooped a bite of stew, and said while chewing, “Not bad—at least it’s salted.”

  “Help yourselves. I cooked plenty of rice. Don’t hold back.”

  She figured they were close enough not to fuss, and immediately started eating. She didn’t bother watching the brothers’ reactions.

  Adam and the kids, on the other hand, seemed totally used to it. Deb took one bite of the purple-green stew and lit up.

  “Wow! Mom, it’s eggplant!”

  Clara gave her a “you’re so clever” look while chewing, and the little girl beamed, swinging her feet happily under the table.

  Ben swallowed a bite with his eyes shut, silently chastising himself for going soft. Back in the day, he could choke down rice bran balls. Now he found himself missing the days when Dad was home to cook.

  Adam noticed his uncles hadn’t touched their chopsticks. He helpfully added, “All homegrown eggplant and bottle gourd.”

  Totally safe—he swore!

  Stepmom didn’t really grasp the “color, aroma, and taste” philosophy. Or maybe she did, but lacked the skills to execute it.

  Still, she always cooked the food thoroughly. She’d said high heat killed off any bacteria.

  So: guaranteed no food poisoning. That, Adam could swear on.

  Seeing their nephew’s confidence, Brandon and Caleb tentatively picked up their chopsticks.

  Yep. Definitely salted.

  And that was about it.

  Clara downed three bowls of rice. With little physical exertion today and plenty of fat in the food, she naturally didn’t eat much else.

  She looked up and saw the brothers mostly eating plain rice.

  “Was it that bad?” she asked, a little embarrassed.

  They shook their heads and, trying to be polite, each picked up a large bite of stew.

  But by dinner, when Clara invited them to stay again, they both adamantly refused—mumbling thanks while fleeing home like their lives depended on it.

  Clara raised a brow, half amused, and looked back at the four little cuties at the table.

  “We love Mom’s cooking the most!” they declared earnestly.

  She burst out laughing and waved them over. “Come on, let’s move Old Yeller into his new home!”

  The kids whooped with joy and dashed to the back of the house.

  Ben and Chad hadn’t ridden yesterday, so they clamored for a turn today. Clara obliged, lifting them onto Old Yeller’s back and leading them to the new stable behind the house. The two boys still wanted more when the ride ended.

  But without a saddle, it wasn’t the most comfortable, so they willingly let Clara help them down.

  Old Yeller had already grazed plenty. Clara and the kids gave him some water, led him to the river for a wash, then guided him—clean and refreshed—into his new home.

  Clara even dabbed some medicine onto his bald patches with powder she’d bought from a city veterinarian.

  Once done, she clapped her hands clean, washed up, and prepped dinner.

  There was still stew leftover from lunch, so dinner was simple: smoked meat and rice porridge.

  It was still brightly lit after dinner. Clara figured she’d swing by Carpenter Liew’s place. They’d be going to install a watermill for a client tomorrow—best to double-check the specs and details together.

  She asked the kids if they wanted to play at the village well. They immediately grabbed their new bamboo ball and scampered after her with glee.

  (End of Chapter)

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