Wang Qinghua, seeing Mrs. He approach at the mill, quickly went forward. "Elder Cousin-in-law, you’re here. Are you here to pick up the rice flour?"

Mrs. He nodded absently. "Yes. All the rice flour at home has been used up by Quan’er. If I don't fetch some more, Quan’er will have nothing to eat."

Wang Qinghua, noticing Mrs. He’s distracted air, mistakenly thought she was searching for Wang Qingshan. He chuckled, "Elder Cousin-in-law, Elder Cousin is in the back. You should go look for him there!"

Mrs. He thanked him with a nod and headed to the back of the mill to find Wang Qingshan.

The moment Mrs. He saw Wang Qingshan busily at work, she wrestled with the impulse to tell him what she had witnessed. Fortunately, she recalled the potential repercussions of doing so, suppressing the urge to speak. Instead, she stepped forward and said, "Qingshan, I’ve come to collect the rice flour."

Wang Qingshan, who had been looking down, immediately lifted his head upon hearing his wife’s voice. "Ah, why did you make a special trip? Didn’t I say I’d bring it back when I returned? Why did you come all the way here to get it!"

Mrs. He smiled. "It’s not a special trip. I’m not that idle. I happen to be coming into town anyway to deliver the embroidery work, so I stopped by for the flour on the way."

Wang Qingshan finally understood and nodded. "Oh, I see. Just wait here; I’ll get the flour for you."

Mrs. He nodded and waited. Before long, Wang Qingshan returned with a small bag of flour. "Take this for now. Next time, don't bother coming; I'll bring it back."

Mrs. He nodded. If she hadn't worried that her son wouldn't have enough rice flour for the afternoon, she wouldn't have made the special trip.

Speaking of which, she truly owed a debt of gratitude to Second Uncle’s family for the rice flour Quan’er drank. Not only did they provide the method, but these subsequent batches of flour were also thanks to Second Uncle’s family. Second Uncle’s family had actually suggested they could just come to the mill to collect the flour, but how could they accept handouts? Thus, they settled on a compromise: their family would bring the raw rice, and Wang Qingshan would use the stone grinder himself to mill it into flour. This arrangement saved the Wang Youfu family help while also saving Mrs. He and her husband money—a satisfactory arrangement for both parties.

Wang Qingshan noticed that the basket Mrs. He was carrying held hardly any purchases, prompting him to ask, "It's rare for you to come to town; why aren't you buying anything to take back?"

Mrs. He glanced at Wang Qingshan and replied, "That spends too much money. We should save what money we have. Besides, we aren't lacking food at home."

What Mrs. He meant by "not lacking food" was, of course, coarse flour, pickles, and the like. Wang Qingshan felt a pang of self-reproach, realizing he hadn't provided a better life for his wife. He turned to her and said, "You spend your days looking after the child, managing the household, and even doing embroidery on top of that. You’re working yourself ragged and need to nourish your body properly. Eating only pickles isn't enough! This time, you must listen to me and buy some meat in town. How much money could eating it once or twice a month really cost?"

Mrs. He was somewhat unconvinced. She didn't see anything wrong with subsisting on pickles; in her view, saving money was paramount. It must be said that ever since adopting the great goal of raising her son well, Mrs. He had become fiercely devoted to saving money for him. But since Wang Qingshan insisted, if she returned home that evening and found no meat, he would surely blame himself again.

So, Mrs. He finally agreed, "Fine. I’ll buy some meat later, how about that?"

Wang Qingshan nodded, satisfied. "Buy enough to build up your strength."

Seeing that there was nothing more to discuss, Mrs. He bid farewell to Wang Qinghua and left the mill to go buy meat in town.

Meanwhile, Wang Youliang and Mrs. Huang remained oblivious that someone had inadvertently discovered their secret.

Wang Youliang had previously been consumed by worries about whether Mrs. Huang would leave him and how he might keep her. After Mrs. Huang’s son, Zhao Cheng, returned home having passed the Tongsheng examination, Wang Youliang grew even more anxious. Zhao Cheng was now a Tongsheng; surely the Xiucai degree was closer, meaning the day Mrs. Huang left him was fast approaching.

Wang Youliang devised many schemes, even considering using threats, coercion, or other insidious tactics. However, he ultimately abandoned those ideas upon realizing such actions would only worsen his relationship with Mrs. Huang.

Powerless, Wang Youliang could only try to mentally convince himself that Mrs. Huang would never leave, while secretly praying that Zhao Cheng would fail the Xiucai examination.

Although Wang Youliang's avoidance strategy was highly unreliable—it was clearly self-deception—this mental exercise managed to restore his composure, which greatly relieved Mrs. Huang, who had been quite worried.

Mrs. Huang sat on a stool counting the month's earnings from the shop. Following their custom, she kept half and gave the remainder to Wang Youliang.

Wang Youliang’s thoughts were not on the money, but fixed on Mrs. Huang. Recently, he had hit upon a half-baked idea, though he wasn't sure if it would work.

Perhaps because Wang Youliang stared for too long, Mrs. Huang grew a bit self-conscious. "What is it? Is there something on my face?"

"No, no. I was just thinking—if Cheng’er passes the Xiucai exam later, will you still be here!" Wang Youliang asked casually.

Mrs. Huang looked puzzled. "Of course, we’ll still live here. Where else would a widow and her son go?"

"That’s true. I was thinking incorrectly. Then, in the future, you’ll find a local girl from our town for Cheng’er, right? After all, someone from the same town is more familiar," Wang Youliang elaborated.

Mrs. Huang had genuinely not considered this matter. Over the years, it had just been her and her son depending on each other; her son was her entire emotional pillar. In her mind, he was still young and needed her protection, so she hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Well, I truly haven't thought about that yet. Cheng’er is still young!" Mrs. Huang admitted honestly.

Wang Youliang grew anxious upon hearing this. In his view, even though Mrs. Huang said they wouldn't leave town even if Zhao Cheng became a Xiucai, he felt the need for further reassurance. He reasoned that if Zhao Cheng were to marry someone within the town, the likelihood of Mrs. Huang and her son leaving would become even smaller. At this moment, Wang Youliang failed to consider what might happen if Zhao Cheng later passed the Juren or even the Jinshi exams, which would almost certainly require him to take up an official post elsewhere.

In truth, it wasn't entirely Wang Youliang's fault for not considering the possibility of Zhao Cheng becoming a Juren. In the eyes of farming families like theirs, passing the Xiucai exam was already an extraordinary feat. As for the Juren degree, that was not one in ten thousand; it was more like one in tens of thousands—how could one pass so easily? Therefore, Wang Youliang never factored in Zhao Cheng passing the Juren exam.

However, while Wang Youliang didn't consider Zhao Cheng becoming a Juren, he did conceive of another scenario: traveling scholars. He knew that some scholars who passed the Tongsheng level would travel for several years to broaden their horizons, a practice he had seen in their own town. He worried that if Zhao Cheng went off traveling, he might take his mother along, and if he found a place he liked, he might settle down there, leaving Wang Youliang with no hope.

Driven by this fear, Wang Youliang urgently advised, "He’s not that young! Once he passes the lower-level county examination, there will be no shortage of families in our town wanting to marry their daughters to him. I think you should start preparing early—find a matchmaker to inquire about the local girls."

Mrs. Huang immediately burst out laughing. "Cheng’er is so young! You want to arrange his marriage so early? I was thinking of waiting until he is older and letting him decide these things based on his own wishes."

"Matters of marriage are determined by parental decree and the matchmaker's word; how can you ask him? You are his mother; you must concern yourself with these things!" Wang Youliang urged.

"That’s true, but you know Cheng’er has had a hard life since childhood, often mocked by other children. So, I’ve always hoped he finds a wife he genuinely likes, so the couple can live well. That way, when I eventually pass away, I can leave in peace," Mrs. Huang explained.

"What are you saying? Don't talk like that anymore. You must live to be a hundred years old!" Wang Youliang said sternly.

Seeing Wang Youliang’s serious expression, Mrs. Huang couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright, I won't say that again. How about living to be a hundred?"

Wang Youliang didn't reply. He knew Mrs. Huang was merely placating him, but deep down, he genuinely wished she would live as long as she claimed.

Wang Youliang returned to the previous topic. "If you want him to find someone compatible, perhaps there are suitable girls right here in our town. Our town has so many families; what kind of girl couldn't you find?"

Now, Mrs. Huang felt a flicker of suspicion. What was wrong with Wang Youliang today? Why was he so invested in her son's marriage? After all, Wang Youliang’s own youngest son was a year older than her son, yet he had never shown such concern.

"Are you trying to arrange one of your family’s daughters for Cheng’er?" Mrs. Huang asked skeptically.

"Ah?" Wang Youliang was momentarily caught off guard.

"Otherwise, why are you so concerned about Cheng’er’s marriage? But I must make this clear to you: Cheng’er is still young, and I haven't considered arranging a match for him this early." Mrs. Huang stated.

Wang Youliang finally realized Mrs. Huang had misunderstood and quickly clarified, "No, no! You’ve misunderstood. That’s not what I meant. Why would I be arranging things for Cheng’er? I still have a young son who isn't married yet. If I knew any families with daughters, I would introduce them to my own son first, wouldn't I?"

Mrs. Huang nodded; that was logical. "Then why are you so invested in Cheng’er’s marriage?" (To be continued)