A Good Country Wife

The tasks that needed to be done were too many, and they couldn't be hurried through in a short time. Lin Yue briefly tidied up her room, and seeing it was getting late, she plunged into the kitchen.

Before Zhao Erhu left, he had instructed the children to keep a close eye on Lin Yue and not to leave her side. This was because Lin Yue had run away from home before, and Zhao Erhu feared she wouldn't listen to him and run off again. Therefore, when Lin Yue entered the kitchen, the children hurriedly followed her in.

Unaware of the reasons behind this, Lin Yue thought the children lacked maternal love. Although they wouldn't show it due to awkwardness and mistrust, it was apparent from their actions. Remembering the helplessness she felt when her own relatives left her, she felt even more pity for the children.

"Wait for me, I'll make you a delicious meal at noon, and I'll make sure you all are well fed," Lin Yue cheerfully said to the children with a smile, accepting the title of "Third Mother" as if it were merely a name that she didn't mind. The children, hearing that Lin Yue was going to make them something delicious, were quite happy and nodded in agreement.

"What delicious food will Third Mother make for us? Will we have fragrant steaming rice for lunch?" Si Lang asked innocently and adorably, his voice filled with longing. Since Lin Yue had previously shared flatbread with him, he had a good feeling about this stepmother and was no longer afraid. Now, he expressed his thoughts directly without reservations, as though the prospect of eating a bowl of fragrant white rice was the greatest happiness.

"Yes, I'll make sure you have enough to eat!" Lin Yue's nose tingled as she heard the question, and she promised without hesitation. To a child without a mother, a bowl of white rice was a humble request she had no reason to refuse. But when she opened the rice bin, her smile froze—the large rice bin only had about four or five liters of rice, just enough to cover the bottom.

Lin Yue looked at the four expectant little radish heads, then back at the rice bin, she bit her lip. A promise was a promise, especially to children, and she couldn't take her word back. Fortunately, though the amount of rice in the bin wasn't much, it was enough to cook a meal for lunch, so she didn't have to break her promise to a child not even five years old.

So, Lin Yue cooked away half of the week's ration of rice in one lunch, not even considering how they would get through the remaining ten or so days of the month after this meal. As a career woman from a new era, she was usually preoccupied with work, never fretting over trivial matters like daily necessities. If they ran out, she would just buy more, not realizing the significance of that little bit of grain for a poor ancient household.

Speaking of cooking rice, that in itself was a technical task. Modern cooking is all high-tech. Lin Yue was most accustomed to using a rice cooker, and at worst, her grandfather used a steam cauldron when she was young. Now, the only thing available in the kitchen for cooking rice was a large iron pot, which was quite a challenge. Fortunately, Lin Yue wasn't entirely clueless; she had seen her grandfather cook rice in a big pot at home when there was a power outage. This small problem wouldn't stump her. So, she quickly scooped up the rice with a calabash-shaped ladle and washed the pot. But the most critical task—starting a fire in the stove—proved impossible. She couldn't manage the flint, and it was frustratingly difficult.

The little ones waited with anticipation for the promised white rice meal from their stepmother. Seeing her crouched in front of the stove, fumbling with the flint but unable to start a fire, they had no idea what this new stepmother had in mind and curiously watched Lin Yue. After a while, Dalang finally figured it out: this stepmother, who didn't seem much older than him, didn't even know how to light a fire. She was a complete failure. Concerned about their own hungry bellies, Dalang bravely volunteered to take over the task of lighting the fire.

Watching Dalang skillfully strike and rub the flint to conjure flames, and with the fire rising in no time, Lin Yue was delighted and generously praised him. Dalang, feeling a bit like a little adult, scratched his head in embarrassment and thought that not all stepmothers were bad. At the very least, this current one was easier to get along with than the last one and hadn't shown them any displeasure on her first day.

The large pot heated the water quickly, and soon it was boiling. Lin Yue judged that the water was about ready and poured in the rinsed rice. With the pot spatula, she stirred in one direction, ensuring that the rice wouldn't stick to the bottom and burn or clump together. Lin Yue still vividly remembered the look on her grandfather`s face as he told her this while holding the spatula. However, it's easier said than done, and even something as simple as stirring proved quite strenuous for Lin Yue after a short while. Stirring a large pot was nothing like using a small one; the spatula was several times larger to match the size of the pot, and just lifting it was heavy, not to mention ceaselessly stirring with it.

About ten minutes later, the rice had absorbed water and expanded, emitting a fragrant aroma. The water in the pot had reduced, turning into a thick, white paste. As the water was nearly dried out, Lin Yue hurriedly instructed Dalang to reduce the heat. She covered the rice with a previously rinsed porcelain basin, sealing the edges tight with a damp cloth; then she closed the pot with a lid and let the rice steam slowly over a low flame.

Finnishing the rice was an accomplishment. Lin Yue herself had just recovered from a serious illness and was still frail, and now, she was covered in sweat from the effort – mixed with the black soot from lighting the fire, it made for an especially comical sight. The children, unsure of their stepmother's temperament, didn't dare to laugh aloud but instead covertly covered their mouths to snicker behind her back.

Once the rice was ready, Lin Yue pondered what dish to prepare for midday. However, after searching the kitchen, she only found half a jar of pickled vegetables in the cabinet and not a single leaf of any other vegetable. Unable to think of an alternative, and considering it wasn't even the season to have planted any crops in the fields, let alone for wild greens to have sprouted, the last bowl of wild chicken soup Zhao Erhu had brought from the mountains had already been consumed by her. It seemed they had no choice but to make do with the pickled vegetables.

"Stepmother, I know where there's food," Erhu suddenly remembered the sorghum and peanuts his father had hidden away. Thinking his father liked Lin Yue so much that he would allow her to eat them even if the children weren't permitted, Erhu eagerly led Lin Yue to the storage room and pointed to a spot on the high shelf.

Thanks to Erhu's guidance, Lin Yue indeed found corn, peanuts, and unhusked rice in a box on the high shelf. Delighted, she took them out, saying she knew there couldn't be just that little food left in the house – there had to be some stored away. Dalang, being somewhat older and more sensible, saw the stepmother taking out the seeds and tried to stop her but was held back by Erhu. Dalang stayed quiet; although he was the eldest among the brothers, it was Erhu, with his nimble mind, who usually came up with the plans. Since Erhu didn't want him to speak up, it had to be for a reason.