Chen Yong stared up at the sky, unable to keep his face from crumpling—he was such a foolish son.

Yang Zhi peeled green beans in her hand as she turned to Chen Yong, speaking with surprising seriousness: "Why don't you give it a name?"

Chen Yong looked at his wife, visibly conflicted. It was rare for her to trust his knowledge so openly; this kind of high-end task always seemed to land on him. Still, he went back to staring at the sky as if he hadn't heard anything.

Chen Wu finally asked a question that gave Chen Yong some relief: "What else do you want this dog to achieve?"

At least he wasn't entirely clueless—could grasp the essentials.

Cheng Ying glanced at Chen Wu and said, "It's still a female dog, so she must naturally wish for many offspring."

Chen Wu took a deep breath. "That's quite an ambition. Don't worry, this dog's mother gave birth to over ten puppies in one go. Your dog comes from such a line—clearly destined for multitudes of descendants."

The elderly woman turned back into the house, probably unable to tolerate any more of it.

Yang Zhi stood there stunned—the dog's mother was truly remarkable.

Chen Wu considered thoughtfully: "If that's the case, what would you name your dog?" The question deserved careful thinking...

Cheng Ying didn't even break a sweat: "Erya."

Chen Wu frowned. "Does 'Erya' relate to having many offspring?"

Cheng Ying nodded decisively: "Have you ever seen someone named Tiedan (Iron Ball) bear children?"

The world around Chen Wu seemed to twist and turn. "No," he admitted.

Cheng Ying ignored him now, turning to Erya and immediately starting her name recognition training.

Chen Yong took a deep breath—what profound insight! In truth, he wanted to tell his son that even if the dog were named Tiedan, it could still give birth easily. Better let the boy process this slowly; there's time before adulthood.

Cheng Ying often got carried away when swayed by others' opinions. Even when convinced, she'd feel resentful inwardly. In Chen Wu's eyes, Cheng Ying was an unattainable figure—a towering mountain... though slightly crooked in direction.

Within moments he accepted the name Erya as reasonable at least—it sounded suitable for a female dog capable of producing pups. Soon enough, he joined Cheng Ying in training their new pet, youth's hearts always eager to prove themselves.

Cheng Ying's teachings toward Erya were rigorous: "Even though we're not pedigree dogs, we must follow the path of excellence—loyalty to our master, guarding the home, distinguishing good company... and most importantly, reading my expressions." She explained this to Chen Wu: "When I look displeased, it means a visitor is unwelcome. At that moment Erya should understand and bark persistently, even scare them with occasional nips at pant legs. When I appear content, Erya can remain quiet. Only when she fully grasps my moods will her education truly complete."

Chen Wu looked at Cheng Ying skeptically: "Not just Erya—I honestly can't tell most of the time if you're happy or not!"

Cheng Ying deemed him too dim-witted, automatically grouping him with dogs. Turning back she added, "Why don't I just have her bark at Auntie Erbo? You know she doesn't want to visit our family anyway—easier than reading my expressions."

The two children chatted in the courtyard while Chen Yong and the elderly woman fretted over their children's behavior. Neither understood the term "middle school mentality," or they'd realize there was no need for concern. Yang Zhi found it all quite amusing, secretly wanting to keep such a dog herself—truly, raising one required more meticulousness than raising kids!

That night both slept well. The next morning Chen Yong brought everyone but the elderly woman out to work in the fields. Though the crops weren't yet ripe, what choice was there with their small family and empty village? Better act early rather than feel anxious later. Villagers might seem simple, but greed lurked beneath—delayed harvesting meant risk of theft, and losing a year's labor wasn't worth it.

Chen Yong led the way with his scythe, cutting corn while Yang Zhi and the children followed behind, husking ears. Cheng Ying stared at the rows ahead, already sore from the prickly corn leaves scratching her arms raw. Blood vessels throbbed visibly through red marks on her skin.

Seeing Cheng Ying's furrowed brows and half-sleeved arms, Chen Wu suddenly felt this work was too tough: "Yingzi, I'm thirsty—go home for some water."

Cheng Ying replied cheerfully, "Thirsty? Alright!" She rose quickly to fetch water from home.

"Yingzi," Chen Wu added, "wear a shirt next time."

Yang Zhi chimed in, "Right! Forgot about that, don't wear half-sleeves."

Cheng Ying glanced at Yang Zhi—would wearing long sleeves be better than enduring this heat? With the sun beating down and sweat dripping from her forehead she stretched upward, dizzy. A deep sigh escaped before she steeled herself: No more backbreaking farm life for her—agriculture must become mechanized. This pain was simply unbearable!

The water Cheng Ying brought Chen Wu came from her own dimensional space. Previously tested with Erya drinking it without incident or transformation into a demon, so clearly no toxins remained. Now she added small ladles of spatial water daily to the family's large jar—though no improvements appeared for Grandmother, at least nothing harmful had been observed either. Cheng Ying figured this artifact wouldn't hurt anyone; considering the gluttonous carp in the pond, it probably just made Grandmother slightly more attractive as an old flirt. But honestly? That was beside the point, especially since her grandmother rarely looked into mirrors anyway, only using washbasins for reflections during face-washing.

Chen Wu and Cheng Ying's relationship had been carefully cultivated. Cheng Ying willingly shared treasures with him—this child was sincere, taught by her to hold onto their bond. She protected her own creations fiercely, regardless of quality. So whatever she gave Chen Wu was always the best, no stinginess involved. This time it was an entire gourd filled slowly from her dimensional space.

For the blouse, Grandmother saw her granddaughter's scratched arms and immediately fetched the thinnest floral top available. Cheng Ying stared at the patchwork fabric, cheeks burning red—there was absolutely no way she wanted to wear that! The pattern screamed village girl aesthetics. But Grandmother insisted: "It's light and breathable, listen to me. Your arms will feel better protected from these leaves."

Cheng Ming saw his granddaughter emerge and commented, "Yingzi, why dress up so prettily?"

Cheng Ying groaned—obviously myths about magical incantations were just stories. "Prettily?" she asked uncertainly.

"Absolutely!" Cheng Ming declared. "Throughout three villages and five hamlets, no one's seen a prettier girl than our Yingzi."

Suddenly Cheng Ying straightened her chest proudly. Though still lacking curves, she could take pride in elegance. Taking another deep breath to confirm: "You're sure? Not lying?"

Cheng Ming paused—he was definitely lying! But since he wasn't complimenting anyone else, it wasn't cheating by calling his own sister beautiful. He examined her closely; with that floral blouse on she looked just like the recently married neighbor—practically a flower-lady in appearance. Turning to Cheng Dong he raised an eyebrow: "Agree?"

Cheng Ying turned toward the handsome young man for confirmation, eyes making refusal impossible. Though not among the most beautiful, her looks were definitely above average. Cheng Dond nodded crimson-faced but dared not say "beautiful"—after all, if Cheng Ming heard him praise his sister's beauty directly, he'd surely retaliate by accusing him of flirting!

Cheng Ying suddenly found the air fresher and sun less scorching. A young man's taste could be trusted after all—even those flowery blouses weren't so bad now that people actually liked them. With renewed confidence she strode away in her cotton-soled floral shoes, back arched proudly as if walking on clouds.

Cheng Ming watched his sister's retreating figure, eyes narrowing into sharp lines. Girls were growing up too fast—why had his thoughts twisted like this? Then he saw Cheng Dond: "Looking what? Never seen a pretty girl before? Wanting to flirt?"

Cheng Dond lowered his head and walked away scowling. Inside he thought: How could you say such things? How old is your sister anyway, really that beautiful? Sure she looked like the flower-lady but... no one would dare claim Cheng Ming's sister was unattractive. Some standards changed with age—though if this floral blouse had been worn by a proper woman in her twenties, maybe it could evoke some charm. But on Cheng Ying's current frame? Impossible!