Chapter 9: The Voracious Little Girl
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Song’s mother shook her head, her voice involuntarily softening. “I brought you the quilt. Tomorrow at dawn, you’ll have to get up when the rooster crows. After breakfast, I’ll take you to the fields. You can start picking the corn, and I’ll go into town to register your household.”
Huan Ya nodded eagerly, like a chick pecking at rice. “Got it.”
Song’s mother gave a few more reminders, and seeing her nod so earnestly, she found it amusing.
“All right, get some sleep now. It’s getting late.”
“Okay.”
Huan Ya watched Song’s mother leave and close the door behind her, then snuggled into the quilt.
The quilt wasn’t new; one corner was torn, but it was warm. It carried a faint fragrance, the same scent as the mistress of the house.
Huan Ya nestled deeper into the quilt and soon drifted off to sleep.
When the rooster crowed loudly from the courtyard, Huan Ya suddenly woke with a start.
She sat up straight, glanced through the window at the sky outside—it was just beginning to brighten.
Blinking and rubbing her eyes, she looked again.
Nothing had changed. She really wasn’t at her aunt’s house anymore, nor was she in Yaxing!
“That’s wonderful,” Huan Ya murmured softly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Cock-a-doodle-doo—
Another crow echoed. She quickly shook off her thoughts, pulled back the quilt, and got out of bed.
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After tidying the bed, she ran her fingers through her hair twice, tied it up with a ribbon into a braid, smoothed her clothes, and finally stepped outside.
When she pushed open the door to the main room, Song’s mother was still asleep, and there was no sound from Song Tiancheng’s room either.
She headed straight to the kitchen. There was no door, just a cloth curtain hanging in the doorway. She lifted the curtain and went in to start a fire for breakfast.
As she looked around the kitchen, she was surprised. “So much food.”
Last night, she hadn’t dared to look closely or had the heart to take it in, but now she realized the household was quite well-off.
The lard was pure and gleaming white, the rice was large-grained and pearly, fragrant even just by itself.
Even the flour was fine and white, stored in a large sack right there.
Just seeing all this, Huan Ya’s mind raced with ideas of what delicious things she could make.
Osmanthus cakes, lean pork porridge, rice mixed with lard...
Her stomach rumbled, but she dared not touch anything.
In the countryside, these ingredients were precious treasures!
Her aunt had always measured out every grain of food with a scale before handing it to her.
No more, no less. If caught using too much, she would be beaten fiercely.
Thinking of her aunt’s fierce face, Huan Ya folded her arms and stepped back outside.
She decided to wait for the mistress of the house to wake up before doing anything.
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Huan Ya sat in the courtyard for a while, then began sweeping the yard.
When she finished, she followed the sound of the rooster crowing to the back of the main room and discovered a yard twice the size of the front one.
The backyard was enclosed with sturdy fences, inside which a plot was specially fenced off for growing vegetables. To the left was a chicken coop, and to the right, a pigsty.
She walked over to take a look. The water trough in the chicken coop was empty, and the pigsty held only a small piglet, sleeping soundly and breathing softly.
She filled the trough with water, picked up some discarded vegetable leaves outside the garden, chopped them finely, and tossed them into the feeding trough.
Cluck, cluck, cluck!
A mother hen led her chicks to rush over, while a magnificent rooster raised its head, motionless, fixed on Huan Ya.
Huan Ya looked at the rooster and swallowed hard.
Big rooster, chicken meat—
“What are you doing?” a voice suddenly asked.
“Chicken meat is delicious,” Huan Ya replied instinctively, then blushed deeply as she realized what she’d said. She stood hesitantly, twisting the hem of her clothes nervously, cursing herself silently.
Why couldn’t she control her tongue?