Transmigrated as A Farm Girl Making Her Family Rich

Chapter 64: Chapter 63 Is There a Thief?

Mrs. Lai let out a shriek at the sight of her own ugly reflection and dropped the mirror. She ran out of the room and, with a “ya,” dashed into the kitchen.

After the sound of water echoed from the kitchen, tranquility was restored to the courtyard.

Ye Shuzhen stood in the courtyard, seeing that her brother’s room was closed and that their father had let the eldest off, she entered her room with a heavy heart, lay on her bed, and complained to Second Sister,

“Second Sister, it was clearly the eldest who hid it. It’s so hateful that he won’t admit it.”

“Third Sister, let it go, will you? Why should we make an enemy of our elder brother? If he says he didn’t take it, then he didn’t, and we don’t have any evidence to prove he hid it.”

Ye Shuzhi had a clearer head. Unlike her younger sister, she was about to get married and would need to rely on her natal family. In the future, her natal family would be her support, so who could she rely on if she alienated her elder brother? Their parents were already old, and even if they were able to help, what of it?

The reason Third Sister could offend their elder brother so carelessly was that she had not yet faced the prospect of marriage and the fear of dealing with her in-laws.

She had not understood this before, but as her wedding day drew nearer and she saw how her mother treated her sister-in-law, her fear only grew.

She chose to lie in bed and ignore her younger sister’s nagging.

Ye Shuzhen vented her frustration in more angry words, repeating the same few sentences—that their elder brother favored his own children and was not good to his sisters anymore.

When she realized that Second Sister had stopped responding, and that it wasn’t interesting to rant on her own, she reluctantly returned to her bed to try to sleep.

…

Hongji ignored the commotion outside and remained silent. When things quieted down, he didn’t go to sleep immediately; instead, he went to arrange for the children to go to bed, being both their father and mother.

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After he had settled the children and was about to blow out the oil lamp, he suddenly remembered something odd about the night.

The courtyard door had been locked. There were many things in their house that could be stolen, but nothing else seemed to be missing. Other families didn’t know that they made wooden Bodhisattvas, so it was unlikely that someone came specifically to steal a wooden Bodhisattva.

In the village, there were those who would steal chickens and dogs. In these times, the most important thing was grain. Every household had just brought in the harvest, and if there was anything to steal, it would be the grain.

While everyone’s attention had been on the wooden Bodhisattva, no one in the family had considered this aspect. When Hongji had been wrongfully accused, he had glanced at the space where they kept the rice and grain in each room and the kitchen—those places were locked and untouched.

Not just anyone could unlock doors as easily as his family members could.

He heard the sound of the kitchen door closing—a sign that his mother had come out of the kitchen and gone back to her room.

For added safety, he decided to check the kitchen to see if any grain had been stolen and the thief had relocked the door. The locks on every household’s main and room doors were too simple, with no better design, and most wooden doors were made similarly rudimentary.

Hongji went out of his room, closing the door behind him. As he was about to open the kitchen door, he heard footsteps from behind. Recognizing these familiar steps, he knew it was his father.

He continued to open the kitchen door, not feeling at ease until he had checked. While anything else that was lost could be remade, grain was fundamental to their survival—it was literally their lifeblood.

“Hongji, why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“Dad, something has gone missing from the house. I’m checking to see if any of our grain is gone.”

“Hmm, you and Dad are on the same page. Truly, like father like son.”

Hongji nodded, opened the kitchen door, and saw that the usual places where his mother kept rice and other grains were locked. Without her permission, they were not to be taken out for cooking. It wasn’t that they couldn’t unlock these storage spaces, but they were accustomed to Mrs. Lai’s way.

He opened the place where the food was stored and found that the food in the house had not been stolen. Only then did he lock it up again, feeling relieved. It wasn’t that he was careless and didn’t notice the extra food at home; he wasn’t involved with cooking, so how could he be as attentive to the food supplies as Mrs. Lai, who noticed even the smallest oddities every day.

“Alright, nothing to worry about, let’s go back to sleep!”

Hongji’s father’s face was full of smiles. Just like the old woman had said, not a grain of their food was missing. He wouldn’t foolishly tell his son, but the fortune-teller had said, “Heaven’s secrets must not be revealed,” it could be that an immortal was secretly delivering food to their family.

Having heard his father’s words, Hongji left the kitchen with him and returned to his own room. As he approached the bed to blow out the oil lamp, he turned his head to glance at the five children.

His gaze lingered on Wuwa with a deep and meaningful expression. After a moment, he turned his head, blew out the lamp, and lay back down on the bed, not falling asleep immediately. There were secrets among the children in the house, and as their father, it was his full responsibility to protect them.

He said not a word about it to anyone in the family, silently protecting her as she grew up.

With this special child, he felt an even greater pressure on his shoulders, knowing he had to become stronger to protect her as she grew up.

Hongji was more determined than ever to work and earn money. It’s true he had wanted to become wealthy, but without anyone to assist him, carving by himself was too slow.

In their village, those who were skilled woodworkers were only him and his father. The idea of taking on apprentices began to appeal to him; they could help him sand and save considerable time.

He knew his father would never agree to the idea; taking on apprentices had always been said to starve the teacher, and skills could only be passed down from one generation to the next.

Without having a firstborn son, it wouldn’t be good if the girls hurt their hands helping with the woodworking. He believed in pampering the female children, though unfortunate circumstances didn’t permit it.

With this in mind, he decided to teach a few of the children carving, so they would be skilled individuals in the future. He didn’t think girls couldn’t become craftsmen.

Ye Shiqi could feel her father’s gaze even with her eyes closed, yet she dared not open them to meet his eyes.

Perhaps it was a sense of guilt; she, a little child, could hide certain things by pretending to be unable to speak or move freely to avoid suspicion.

But surely those close to her must have noticed something. For instance, her elder sister Siwa knew she had honey to eat.

In recent days, ever since she had eaten honey that day, Siwa drooled over the picture books featuring honey, her gaze fixated on Shiqi, as if by looking at her in that way, it would soften her heart and make honey appear for her to eat.

Shiqi felt her own heart was quite hard; at night, after finishing drawing the wooden figures, she would eat some honey to replenish her strength.

Her father too was among the closest to her, and if a little child like her could produce wooden figures that suddenly disappeared, anyone with a bit of brains would be suspicious.

There were just too many mysteries involved, and Shiqi believed that her father was deliberately hiding the family’s secret so that others would not know.

She resolved to be more careful in the future; under her father’s watchful eye, she could still undertake some minor activities.

Those in the family were not to be trusted, only one’s parents would be most forgiving.

Shiqi fell asleep without realizing it, and when she awoke again, it was deep into the night, the sound of her family’s steady breathing filling the room.

Especially her father, who seemed tired, just like her grandfather, had a bad habit from working hard: snoring. The noise was as loud as thunder.

It seemed that it was this thunderous snoring that had woken her up. Her sisters beside her were still sound asleep, and she chose this moment to enter the space to draw the wood.

It seems her father was motivated to earn money, and besides drawing Bodhisattva images, she needed to draw toy-like ones too. She had to speed up her actions; practice makes perfect, and her wood drawing became much faster.