Huang Wei borrowed a round tabletop from a villager and set up two tables in Sister Cui’s yard, plus one in the main hall—three tables in total.
She went home, brought the food over to Sister Cui’s, and placed it on the tables. Entering the main hall still gave her a chill down her spine.
Actually, Big Ya and Little Ya had cleaned up quite well. If it weren’t Huang Wei, or if one didn’t look closely, you’d hardly tell a corpse had lain there not long ago. Huang Wei set down the prepared dishes, arranged them on the table, and had the girls borrow bowls and chopsticks. After everything was ready, she left Sister Cui’s house.
She would eat with her family that evening, as she’d told the villagers beforehand, and they understood.
At first, they weren’t too happy, but once they learned the players would be eating with her, they beamed and let Huang Wei off.
At that moment, Huang Wei realized: she wasn’t the key—the key was having living people.
When Huang Wei got home, Cheng Luyun had already heated up the food and set it on the table, waiting for her. Huang Wei led Huang Chengcheng home, and Chengcheng plopped onto her chair, chopsticks ready.
Chengcheng was happy because she had carefully compared the dishes over there with the ones at home—and needless to say, home won by a landslide.
Next door had only one big meat dish, one small meat dish, scrambled eggs, a vegetable dish, and soup. Unlike their own home, which had two big meat dishes! Huang Chengcheng picked up a chicken leg and started gnawing. Huang Wei had made braised chicken—a dish that went perfectly with rice and was simple to make with a rice cooker, except you had to take it out before cooking the rice.
She had stewed the chicken until tender. With a gentle bite, the meat fell off the bone, and the rich sauce burst in her mouth. Huang Chengcheng couldn’t help but squint. Her every move resembled Cheng Luyun—both like cats, squinting slightly when eating something they liked. If they really were cats, they’d be purring while eating.
Cheng Luyun was the big cat. She wasn’t as obvious as Huang Chengcheng; her squint was barely perceptible. But Huang Wei could tell she was extremely satisfied.
She had also made a fish dish using the Cao-style sliced fish method, though she lacked the special oil, so it was a simplified version.
But the fish slices turned out tender and smooth, with a fresh, sweet flavor. Anyone who liked fish would probably enjoy it.
Cheng Luyun was a fish lover. Her chopsticks kept going for the fish slices, and she didn’t touch the braised chicken nearly as much.
Their family always practiced “clean plate.” Four dishes and a soup, and not even a drop of soup was left. The braised chicken sauce was great mixed with rice, and Huang Chengcheng scraped the plate clean.
Cheng Luyun ate her fill and took the dishes to wash. Huang Wei’s gaze drifted toward the back of the house. Past the main hall, through the staircase and a small nook, was the back door. She had gone through it in the first round; she knew it led to the backyard and the pigsty, where there was a big fat pig.
To this day, Huang Wei still didn’t know if that pig was alive or a ghost pig.
She’d seen Big Ya dragging the corpse toward the back earlier. Their house layout was similar to Huang Wei’s, so it wasn’t going upstairs—probably out the back door, maybe into the backyard. Now, seeing the back door, she remembered her own big fat pig.
She also recalled that except for the first round, in the second and third rounds, she hadn’t gone to the back to check on the pig.
Curious, Huang Wei asked, “Chengcheng, aren’t we feeding the pig?” Ever since Huang Wei started cooking, there were no leftovers at all, so naturally no scraps for the pig. She’d also never seen any pig feed being cooked. Huang Wei understood: that pig was likely not a normal one.
Huang Chengcheng stiffened at the question, then said after a moment, “Being hungry for a couple of days probably won’t hurt. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the mountain with Big Ya and gather some pigweed.”
Huang Chengcheng was such a good child—she was always letting things slip to Huang Wei.
Huang Wei had vaguely sensed that this world’s timeline didn’t match the time before she transmigrated. It seemed set at least a decade or more earlier, around her own childhood. Huang Chengcheng’s words confirmed it.
In the present day, who still gathered pigweed to feed pigs? In fact, households raising pigs were rare.
Nowadays, pig farming was done en masse. Individual pig farming couldn’t compete, and farms fed pigs water hyacinth and feed, making them grow fast. Who still went up the mountain to gather pigweed? That kind of work was only seen a dozen or more years ago.
Huang Wei knew all this well. She looked at Huang Chengcheng and couldn’t help saying, “Chengcheng, let’s say less in front of outsiders from now on.”
Huang Chengcheng’s eyes were filled with big questions. If questions could take form, several question marks would be floating above her head.
Huang Wei continued on her own, “Forget the pigweed. Raising pigs is too much trouble. How about we buy some little ducks for you to herd instead?”
Huang Wei actually quite liked herding ducks. When she was little, she wasn’t strong enough for heavy work, so herding ducks was a task she was given. She’d take a small stick with a handkerchief tied to it and drive the ducks to the river, then back when it was time.
Duck herding was really easy, and you could even bring books and finish your homework while doing it.
Now grown up and looking back, she still found it a fun thing to do.
Huang Chengcheng didn’t have much to do all day except play with Big Ya and Little Ya next door. But after seeing the scene in their house, Huang Wei didn’t want the three little girls huddled in that dark house, walking around near a corpse.
The corpse was gone now, but when the next loop started, a new one would spawn.
She still remembered the sight of Little Ya’s shoes stained with blood, stepping on the floor. She didn’t want such a scene to ever involve Huang Chengcheng.
Huang Wei knew Huang Chengcheng was a little boss, but in front of her, she was always a well-behaved little girl. Even if she didn’t like being called “Daddy,” Huang Wei had to admit she felt a sense of familial affection for her.
She’d never been with such an adorable child before, so she really did sort of see her as her own daughter.
Hearing about little ducks, Huang Chengcheng immediately brightened. “Can I raise little ducks?”
Huang Wei was about to nod, but then thought of Cheng Luyun. Smiling, she told Chengcheng to go ask Cheng Luyun; only if she agreed could they raise ducks. Huang Wei felt sure she wouldn’t refuse, so she whispered to Chengcheng, “Tomorrow I’ll tidy up the back and fix a little duck house for you. Then I’ll teach you how to drive the ducks out the back door and bring them back on time.”
Huang Chengcheng’s eyes sparkled. She immediately wanted to run to her mom and beg cutely for permission.
When Cheng Luyun came back from washing dishes, she saw Huang Wei and Huang Chengcheng smiling and chatting. Puzzled, she asked while rolling down her sleeves, “What are you two so happy about? Tell me too.” As she neared, she saw Chengcheng’s bright, sparkling eyes and a smile like the sun.
Huang Chengcheng resembled both Huang Wei and Cheng Luyun, but her eyes were especially like Huang Wei’s—bright and sparkling, exactly the same.
Cheng Luyun had a hard time resisting Huang Wei’s gaze, and it was the same with Huang Chengcheng. She wanted to look away, but Huang Wei was watching her too. So she stopped and tilted her head, looking at Chengcheng.
Chengcheng called out loudly, “Mommy!” After Cheng Luyun responded with an “Mm,” she started explaining their plan: “Daddy said I can raise little ducks and teach me how to herd them and chase them around. Can our family raise ducks?”
Chengcheng was very excited about herding ducks, but she also knew Cheng Luyun disliked change and hated going out. Afraid of being refused, she brought her little fists together in front of her, her jet-black eyes blinking, hoping her mother would agree.
Cheng Luyun glanced at Huang Wei, who had lowered her head, her long bangs hiding her expression and making her gaze unreadable.
Whatever Huang Wei was thinking, this was another thing Huang Wei had brought up.
Cheng Luyun actually had no intention of refusing, but when her eyes fell on Huang Wei’s hand resting on Chengcheng’s shoulder, she chuckled softly.
And here she’d thought Huang Wei was so composed. Turns out she was worried about being refused too.
Huang Wei’s hand on Chengcheng’s shoulder clutched the fabric slightly—clearly nervous, despite looking calm.
Cheng Luyun raised one hand, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Her other arm folded across her chest, the back of her hand supporting her raised elbow, a mischievous smile appearing on her face.
“Give me your reasons for raising ducks.”
Cheng Luyun was a teasing woman. She only asked for reasons, without saying whether a good reason would be approved or a bad one rejected.
Huang Wei lifted her head slightly, her gaze peeking through her bangs with a hint of surprise. She still stammered out her reasons: “Our family raises pigs, which means we have to gather pigweed. Chengcheng is too young to use a sickle—it’s too dangerous. Duck herding would be much better… I know how, and I can teach her.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Cheng Luyun hummed noncommittally, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
Huang Wei felt her reason wasn’t very convincing, so she added, “Chengcheng doesn’t have much to do for fun. She’s stuck at home with us all day, or at Sister Cui’s. A child her age in the countryside should be able to run around and play outside.”
Her words made Cheng Luyun pause—she hadn’t thought of that. Her gaze shifted to Huang Chengcheng, and seeing the hopeful look, she sighed and finally agreed.
Huang Chengcheng immediately turned to Huang Wei with a beaming smile, and the latter returned a smile that was seventy or eighty percent similar—which made Cheng Luyun feel a bit displeased.
“But the pig still needs to be fed. Since Brother Wei is so concerned about Chengcheng, then feeding the pig will be your job.”
