Yang Zhi bit her lip and laughed, "Plenty left. Didn't cost much."

The old woman waved a hand. "Go on then, get to work. Tomorrow morning we four go in together - let Yongzi stay home with his books."

Yang Zhi shook her head. "No need, Mother. I can manage alone."

A sharp glare from the grandmother sent Yang Zhi scurrying away.

Cheng Ying whispered, "Grandma, he's fine. Not serious."

The old woman sighed. "When men don't hold up their end, women suffer twice over. Rest well now."

The eastern room glowed all night with lamp light. The grandmother rummaged through a cabinet, producing fabric to stitch and mend. Cheng Ying couldn't guess what she was making while Chi Wu lay silent in his quilt, ears straining at every word - the old woman's voice never dropped lower around him, and he'd been thinking again, this child of hers.

Cheng Ying resolved to have Chi Wu examined when they next went to town. At eleven years old, with such a condition already developing in adults, it would be cruel if the boy caught something too.

Drowsy thoughts carried her into sleep, unaware how late her grandmother worked or when she finally retired.

The next morning, herbal scents drifted through their courtyard. Cheng Ying felt that first stir of what might someday become a true Chinese medicine household - though all these remedies were for their own family's use.

At breakfast the old woman handed Chi Yong something wrapped in cloth. The stitching was meticulous and Cheng Ying noticed cleverly hidden pockets.

Chi Yong froze, fingers pale as he accepted it. "Mother?"

"Wrap this around your waist," said the grandmother. "Those secret pockets are removable. When a rainy day gives you trouble, just toss some beans into a pan, heat them up, put them in here. They'll stay warm for hours."

Chi Yong's eyes glistened as he tested the fabric with trembling fingers. No such thoughtful thing had entered his life in years - not since his wife took over all household duties last week without complaint. This grandmother truly was something special.

Cheng Ying admired how cleverly those hidden pockets could be detached, so practical. "I'll go heat some beans," Yang Zhi said eagerly. "Such a wonderful thing, Mother!"

"Trinket," the old woman dismissed it with a wave. "Rest well now - your hands aren't needed for such menial tasks."

Chi Yong nodded silently.

Cheng Ying felt an ache in her chest at his choked voice. It wasn't as if he were some child crying over not being able to have babies.

"I'm fine," Chi Yong said suddenly, louder than necessary. "I've got Yingzi and Wu... that's enough."

The grandmother scoffed. "Nonsense. Two doses of medicine and it'll pass right off." Cold words, but Cheng Ying heard the warmth beneath them.

Chi Wu ate in silence. Cheng Ying knew better than to speak - her aqua solution probably wouldn't help his father, not when even a simple bath with focused pressure on specific meridians had already left her cringing at the thought of turning an adult into some sort of water snake.

She poured some herbal-infused water into their family's storage jar anyway. Better to drink it than nothing. But for actual treatment... traditional remedies remained safest.

After breakfast, Cheng Ying followed her mother to the fields with the grandmother in tow. Yang Zhi had begged them not to come but was outvoted by a stern look from the old woman.

Chi Wu worked hardest of all, determined to compensate since his father proved helpless. Yang Zhi's voice cracked as she warned him about overexertion, then signaled Cheng Ying with an "handle this" glance - her mother clearly had imperial ambitions for leadership roles.

Cheng Ying watched Chi Wu hesitate, then glanced at the grandmother who barked a single command to work on peeling corn. With no argument, he obeyed instantly. How strange that a child so recently disciplined should still fear his grandmother despite recent kindnesses?

They'd only loaded two carts when Cheng Ying's uncle approached waving from the field edge. "Uncle Liang, what brings you here?"

Yang Zhi stood up straighter as her brother-in-law took over with a sheaf of cut corn in hand. "Harvest time comes early these days," he explained, "especially when a husband proves useless with a scythe."

The old woman's shoulders relaxed visibly at this display of genuine care - but quickly masked it by dismissing the gesture. "Such a small plot, we've managed fine so far. No need to travel all this way!"

Uncle Liang scoffed good-naturedly and sat down for lunch instead of arguing further.

Chi Wu's smile widened at the promise of his father's cooking - though Cheng Ying could only imagine what culinary disasters might follow.

Yang Zhi delegated tasks efficiently, pushing a wheelbarrow while her brother-in-law joined in harvesting. The efficiency gap between Uncle Liang and Chi Yong was obvious - by noon they'd finished half the field, then spent the afternoon gathering corn with Cheng Ying's family barely keeping up.

At dinner that night, Chi Yong drank several cups of medicinal wine prepared specifically for him. Uncle Liang stayed past midnight after a long conversation in the western room.

The next morning dawned bright and early. The old woman packed away the last half-barrel of wine she'd insisted Uncle Liang take home - he accepted it with no pretense, declaring it was clearly too valuable to waste in his sister's house.

Cheng Ying couldn't help teasing Uncle Liang when her mother scolded him for using up so much oil. "Your uncle's cooking beats my mother's any day," she said.

Chi Yong blushed as his father-in-law boasted about his culinary skills, until the grandmother finally exploded: "Enough of this! One meal nearly consumed a whole cask of oil - disgraceful!"

Yang Zhi snorted into her tea while Chi Yong turned crimson under the unflinching stare of his grandmother.

"Next week I'll bring new casks," Uncle Liang promised, already planning to have Chi Wu deliver them.

Cheng Ying watched her father-in-law try to defend his oil-heavy cooking methods with surprising eloquence - after all, wasn't it precisely the oil that made those golden-brown eggplants so delicious? The grandmother's verdict was final: "Men should never enter kitchens."

"Victory through hardship," Cheng Ying whispered.

Chi Yong scowled at her remark but said nothing as he carefully avoided any more kitchen arguments.

And then came the real trouble - the grandmother turned on Yang Zhi with a sharp reprimand about marriage arrangements for their children. "You earn just enough to get arrogant, buying this and that while your savings vanish faster than your common sense! Yingzi and Wu are eleven now - think of what you must provide when they turn sixteen or seventeen!"

Yang Zhi lowered her eyes in shame, knowing full well her recent recklessness with finances was true. Chi Wu's cheeks burned as he considered the implications of marriage at such a young age. Cheng Ying stared into the horizon, remembering in previous lives how late marriage came for women - now at sixteen this would be scandalous!

Oh dear. She could already imagine herself, ancient and scheming, trying to romance teenagers while secretly feeling like an imposter. What a predicament it was to become old enough to marry before one even reached thirty.

The grandmother slammed her hand on the table for emphasis: "You think I'm joking about sixteen years of age? If any girl shows interest in such things before she's twenty, she'll get more than just my broomstick."