Lin He greeted Wen Ningmo with an air of self-possession, which caused a subtle shift in Wen Ningmo’s expression. “So, you are that Lin He,” he said, his voice laced with a distinct note of dissatisfaction and unfriendly demeanor. Lin He found this peculiar; she had never met this young master before, nor had she ever given him cause for offense, yet he spoke as if they were already acquainted.

Lin He was entirely unaware that in Wen Ningmo’s mind, she had already been firmly established as his primary rival. Since returning from his encounter with Lin He, whenever the young master misbehaved, Uncle Wen would point at his head and say, “You are this old, living a life of ease with everything provided, yet you still go around stirring up trouble. There’s a young girl I know, only a few months older than you, but she is far more capable.”

When he refused to eat due to pickiness at home, Uncle Wen would admonish him, “You have food readily available, yet you are so choosy. The young girl I know was already earning her own living at your age. You truly don’t appreciate the blessings you have.”

With Uncle Wen mentioning her repeatedly, Wen Ningmo naturally committed this girl to memory. Later, he learned that this girl, Lin He, was the one who made his household’s hand warmers and sausages. Initially, Wen Ningmo refused to believe such a person existed, suspecting his father had fabricated her existence just to ensure his obedience.

He never imagined that today, while out playing in town, he would pass by his family’s shop, decide to step inside for a rest, and actually encounter this girl. Moreover, this girl’s attitude toward him was markedly different from everyone else’s. His own family members were always deferential, calling him “Young Master,” but when Lin He met him, she merely nodded once and stated flatly, “Young Master Wen.”

After exchanging greetings with Wen Ningmo, Lin He left with Xiao Jun. As they reached the town gate, they heard someone calling out from behind, “Miss Lin He, wait a moment.”

Lin He turned to see a boy of about ten, dressed as an attendant, running and shouting, while Wen Ningmo followed at a leisurely pace. Lin He remained silent at the town gate, though she inwardly puzzled over why Young Master Wen was seeking her out; they were strangers. Nevertheless, out of courtesy, she waited for him to approach.

As Wen Ningmo drew near, his eyes swept over Lin He, and he asked, “Did you make those hand warmers and sausages?”

Lin He nodded. Wen Ningmo spoke with a tone of utter disdain. “Those sausages were dreadfully salty, and they looked so ugly. You actually had the nerve to give them as gifts to someone’s house? Weren't you afraid of sickening their stomachs? The hand warmer’s appearance was acceptable, but your needlework is too poor, isn't it? Those little animals are all stitched crookedly.”

Lin He was supremely confident in the items she created. Although the craftsmanship on the hand warmer might not have been perfect, the embroidered animals certainly weren't askew. The sausages might not have looked appealing, but they were undeniably delicious. She realized the young boy must have eaten them and was deliberately coming to find fault with her.

Lin He smiled faintly and replied, “Thank you for your patronage, Young Master Wen. I trust you finished all the sausages, and the hand warmer is useful throughout the winter, I hope.”

Wen Ningmo, who had been spoiling for a confrontation because he resented his father’s constant praise of Lin He, was caught in his lie. Embarrassment flushed his face, turning into anger. “Who said I ate the sausages? I found them disgusting, so I gave them away to the servants! That’s what I heard them say.”

The attendant standing nearby rolled his eyes. His young master was lying with a straight face. In truth, the young master had devoured every single sausage himself and didn't allow anyone else to take even one. Now, he dared to claim he hadn’t eaten them and had bestowed them upon the servants—truly unbelievable.

Seeing Wen Ningmo’s expression, Lin He knew he was lying. For an eight-year-old boy to try and contend with her was reckless folly. She wouldn't bother with him if he weren't Uncle Wen’s son.

Lin He gave him a cool glance in return and said, “Since Young Master Wen dislikes them, I shall not send any more in the future. If Young Master Wen has no other instructions, I will be returning now.”

Without waiting for Wen Ningmo to respond, she got onto the ox cart with Xiao Jun and left. Wen Ningmo was left looking utterly frustrated. Talking to Lin He was like punching cotton—it drove him mad. He didn't mind if people argued with him or yelled at him, but Lin He’s placid attitude was genuinely vexing. He muttered under his breath that he would make her pay the next time they met, waited a moment, and then returned with his attendant.

Sitting on the ox cart, Lin He noticed Wen Ningmo’s dejected appearance and found it slightly amusing. The boy was only eight years old, yet he insisted on putting on an air of mature arrogance. He must have been coddled excessively at home. However, the lad wasn't inherently malicious; despite his mischievous and playful nature, his heart seemed sound.

Life continued its quiet, steady pace. By the time June arrived, marking the hottest period of the year, Lin He had been consistently delivering goods to Caidie Xuan. She made deliveries roughly every half month, bringing three hundred bars of soap and one hundred and fifty boxes of scented paste each time. Over two months, she made four deliveries, earning nearly three hundred taels of silver. The profit from the He Cai dolls on the other side also saw a slight monthly increase, but nothing that caused a major stir—all in all, things were going quite well. Still, since the money earned there was currently inaccessible, she chose not to dwell on it for the moment.

Currently, Lin He gave Huang Shi five taels of silver per month for household expenses. The wages for Da Sheng and the other three were managed by Huang Shi, requiring two taels of monthly allowance for them, leaving the remaining three taels for household management; any surplus she was free to save.

Lin He had converted all her silver into ingots and two-tael silver coins. Lin Chen pushed open the door just as Lin He was counting the money. Lin He muttered to herself, looking vaguely at a money jar, “It’s only three hundred taels after all this time,” seeming lost in thought, feeling that no matter how much she saved, it would never be enough.

Lin Chen, having received some education herself, understood currency. She said, “Sister, you started selling those cloth dolls to Uncle Wen—each doll sold for fifty taels, earning over a hundred taels a month! That was wonderful. Why are you only earning this much after such a long time? Why don't you continue selling the dolls?”

Lin He thought her younger sister showed some talent. For someone so young, who rarely accompanied her out, to ask such a question was not simple. Smiling, she replied, “Chen’er, you are still young; you don't understand these things. Think about it: when my dolls first appeared, they were a novelty, so people were willing to pay a high price. Once many similar dolls appear on the market, they won't be as novel anymore. Do you think people will still pay such a high price for my cloth dolls then?”

Lin He watched as Lin Chen tilted her head, looking as if she hadn’t quite grasped the concept. She continued, “Let me put it this way: when I first made that doll, you loved it intensely, didn’t you? Now, even though I make one or two different dolls every month, you don’t seem to like them as much as you did at the beginning, do you?”

“Then these soaps and such—will other people make them eventually, and people won't like them as much then, and Sister won't be able to earn money anymore?” Lin Chen asked worriedly after hearing Lin He’s explanation.