Here is my translation of the provided text into English:
Chapter 11: Points Credited
Watching from the side, Da Ya and Er Ya found the whole situation quite amusing. Feng shot them a stern look before turning to dissuade Man Bao. “Little Niece, our baskets are difficult enough to sell on their own. If you bundle the flowers and plants with them, they’ll become even harder to move. Those kinds of things grow everywhere on the hills – which of our fellow villagers would need to buy them?”
“But they clearly seemed to like them. Earlier when I tried giving them some, they reached out to accept,” Man Bao felt they were just being stingy about spending money.
“Of course people will take free things, but they become worthless if you demand payment.”
After considering it, Man Bao formulated her own perspective. “No, that’s not right. If the flowers and plants weren’t pretty, people wouldn’t take them even for free. So we just need to find some non-stingy folks who will see how lovely our arrangements are and they’ll definitely buy them.”
Feng shook her head. “But everyone at the market is stingy.”
Slumping her shoulders in resignation, Man Bao conceded, “Okay, then we won’t sell them today. We’ll give them away for free and try selling to non-stingy people next time.”
Satisfied with this, Feng allowed them to artfully arrange the flowers and plants inside the baskets they had brought.
Da Ya and Er Ya immediately lent a hand decorating the baskets.
Truth be told, the added floral accents did make the baskets look far more visually appealing, the linear arrangement catching everyone’s eye as they passed by.
Even those with no need for more baskets paused for a second look. Anyone actually requiring baskets headed straight over to inquire about prices.
Market prices rarely fluctuated from year to year. So the Zhou family baskets cost the same as everyone else’s since Zhou Erlang’s craftsmanship was solid. Customers inspected the wares before either paying cash or trading goods.
Common trade items at the village market were eggs, fabric and grains.
Fabric was considered quite precious, as each household still owed an annual cloth tax. Most preferred trading eggs and grains instead.
Of course, some used cash for purchases, but they were the minority.
After the selling was done, Feng had accumulated a decent pile of grains and eggs, carefully separating and storing them in their baskets and backpacks.
As the sun climbed higher, she grew anxious, glancing down the street waiting for her husband and uncle’s return.
Seeing the children’s drooping spirits, she knew they were growing hungry. So she retrieved a couple buns from the backpack, tearing them into pieces to distribute. “Here, have a little bite with some water. We can go home once your uncles and father return.”
Zhou Wulang and Zhou Liulang also accepted half a bun each from their sister-in-law before squatting down to nibble on them, sighing, “It must not be selling well if they haven’t returned. Who needs to buy grain right after the autumn harvest?”
“Tsk tsk, a young mouth speaks carelessly. May those ill omens scatter like dust in the wind,” Feng chided. “Fifth Nephew, you should be saying more auspicious things.”
“Isn’t it easy to say auspicious things? I wish to the God of Wealth in my dreams every night that our family will become fabulously rich. But it never seems to come true,” Zhou Wulang lamented.
Intrigued, Man Bao inwardly asked the system, “Ke Ke, is the God of Wealth up in the heavens? Can you see him?”
The system replied curtly, “…No, and there likely isn’t any ‘God of Wealth’ in this world.”
“How could there not be? We make offerings to him every year, along with the Stove God, the God of the Soil…”
“Future people firmly believe in atheism, so they think there are no deities in this world.”
This directly contradicted the stories Man Bao had heard since childhood, leaving her stunned for a long while before excitedly rationalizing, “It must be because all the gods fled your world and came to ours instead!”
The system acquiesced mildly, “It’s not incorrect for you to think that way.”
Man Bao wondered, “Then are the gods more powerful than you? Can they make things appear and disappear with a wave too? And can they grant my wishes with more waves?”
“I fulfill the host’s wishes only on the condition that the host completes the tasks I assign. So there are no rewards in this world without labor.”
Man Bao nodded contemplatively. “You are like the gods in that sense. The gods must think that way too. But since they can’t speak to me, how would I know what tasks they require?”
The system fell silent.
But Man Bao continued pondering, trying to view it from the gods’ perspective. She soon had an epiphany, mentally exclaiming “Aha, I know!”
Turning to Zhou Wulang, she instructed, “You’re doing it wrong. You should make wishes when going to sleep at night. It’s because your heart isn’t sincere. You need to help the God of Wealth with tasks first, only then will he grant your wishes.”
Zhou Wulang asked skeptically, “What tasks could I possibly do for him?”
“Like cleaning up for him, serving him tea and meals,” Man Bao reasoned authoritatively. “That’s what I do for Master Zhuang. I clean up his study hall, so he teaches me to recognize characters. I serve him tea and meals, so he gifts me his completed writing manuscripts. You need to do the same for the God of Wealth.”
Guffawing loudly, Zhou Wulang questioned her cheekily, “So where exactly is this God of Wealth?”
The little friends all tilted their heads skyward, letting out regretful sighs in unison, “He’s up in the heavens.”
Feng listened to their childish banter impassively, focusing solely on organizing the goods received from trades. But a neighboring village vendor looked on enviously, praising her, “Sister-in-law, your children are so clever.”
Their own kids never contemplated such profound topics or spoke in such profound ways, their daily concerns revolving solely around playing in the mud or plotting to forage for wild berries up in the hills.
Smiling at them, Feng said, “Children say something new and unexpected every day. We’re just used to it. Who knows what goes through their little minds?”
Everyone chuckled indulgently. “That’s true, we couldn’t understand a thing our kids said before age three either.”
Feng had set aside a bun each for Zhou Dalang and Zhou Erlang. Noticing Man Bao cradling a small chunk as she nibbled away, barely making a dent after a long while, Feng realized she simply wasn’t accustomed to eating dried buns.
Having never ventured far from home where hot meals were the norm, this was likely unfamiliar for her.
After considering it, Feng instructed Zhou Wulang to watch the stall while she pocketed a couple eggs, intending to find a neighboring household to boil them for her dear little niece.
As soon as Feng departed, Man Bao retrieved an item wrapped in a handkerchief that she had actually obtained from Ke Ke.
Unfolding the handkerchief revealed candies wrapped in wax paper – the generous reward earned from recording the tindora plant. Since that species had already gone extinct in the future, the Encyclopedia’s database only contained textual entries and photos without any physical specimens.
Not only did Man Bao record the mature fruit, but she also logged a fledgling seedling sprout, prompting the Encyclopedia to award her a whopping fifty points for the first time ever.
After the system deducted her historical debt – essentially the points it had previously drawn from its reserves to exchange candies and incentivize her plant recordings – a total of eighteen points, Man Bao was left with thirty-two points remaining.
This was the highest point tally she had ever accumulated, as she typically only earned a single point after recording several different flowers and plants.
It was only by the system’s persistent petitioning with the Encyclopedia that she received even that paltry “encouragement point” whenever recording already catalogued plants still extant in the future.
While “encouragement point” sounded rather flattering to Man Bao, a source of pride even, she had never considered repaying the system’s expended debt every time she exchanged for candies.
These candies formulated for children were among the most inexpensive, with one point earning a whole sack containing around one hundred individually wrapped pieces sold at bulk wholesale pricing, according to the system. A dazzling array of colors were available.
Initially, Man Bao had favored the vibrantly colorful varieties. But with her safety in mind, the system stuck to procuring candies in mild yellow and red hues closer to the present day.
As for those strikingly bright shades, the system had once specially purchased a separate packet just for her to enjoy slowly within its internal confines.
Most of her candies ended up getting shared, since Man Bao was a generous child by nature.
Whenever she acquired candies, she never hoarded them, frequently popping pieces into her brothers’ and nephews’ mouths.
Her closest friends like Da Ya, Er Ya and San Ya received the most candy gifts from her.
Add in the occasional sweet treat for Old Zhou, Mrs. Qian and her sisters-in-law, and Man Bao’s candies were swiftly consumed.
The moment her points were credited the previous night, she had purchased a new sack, excitedly unwrapping many pieces inside the system before retrieving scraps of wax paper from previous candies gifted by her second brother, carefully re-wrapping and covering the bundle in her own little handkerchief to bring today.
Seeing Feng had stepped away, Man Bao stealthily revealed the candies, whispering conspiratorially to her little friends, “Let’s try selling these instead?”
Eyeing the candies hungrily, Zhou Wulang couldn’t resist a fleeting drool as he recalled, “Man Bao, I remember the last time Second Brother bought candies at market, we finished them all. Where did you get these from?”
Having just mentally connected Ke Ke to the deific realm, Man Bao replied with an air of mystique and pride, “The gods gave them to me.”
None of her friends believed her, since previously she had clearly stated they were from a friend called Ke Ke, and even earlier attributing the candies to their descendants, or someone called “the system.”
So they were utterly dubious of their little sister’s (or niece’s) claims now.
Still, it was a ritual to at least voice the token question before fixating greedily on the candies. “There are so many though, won’t they be hard to sell? Should we eat some first?”
“Yeah, they’ll be tough to sell,” Da Tou tried coaxing Man Bao. “We should eat some to make it easier.”
But Man Bao wasn’t fooled, clutching the bundle protectively. “No way, our family is going through difficulties now, so we need to learn to endure hardship. That means no more candies for the time being.”
Everyone lowered their heads dejectedly.
Consoling them, Man Bao said, “It’ll be fine once our family has money again. Then I won’t sell any candies, I’ll give you all of them to eat. But right now we still need to buy medicine for Mother.”
Indeed, Man Bao’s urgent desire to sell the candies stemmed from wanting to purchase medicine for her mother. The previous day, Mrs. Qian had run out of her herbal tonic, wheezing with difficulty the entire night. Initially dead asleep, Man Bao had woken to her father rising to fetch water and comfort her struggling mother, prompting her own late-night foray into the system’s space to carefully unwrap the candies.
To Man Bao, nothing took priority over securing medicine for her cherished mother right now.
Being rather filial children themselves, the others immediately agreed upon hearing her reason, vowing to put in their utmost efforts to sell the candies.
So they dispersed to scout for suitable prospective buyers – families with children who appeared relatively well-off based on their attire.
