Old Walter Liew was seated in the main hall alongside the village chief and the clan elder, surrounded by respected elders from the clan.
As praises were exchanged around the room, he looked up toward the courtyard, where Lester Liew was helping Clara entertain the guests. His heart—worried for twenty-three long years—could finally rest.
"Lester!" Old Walter called out into the yard.
Lester squeezed his way through the courtyard, dodging between the packed tables and chairs. He first greeted the village chief and clan elder respectfully, then nodded and smiled obsequiously at the other elders before stepping in front of his father.
"Father, what's the matter?"
Old Walter had drunk two cups of wine and was slightly tipsy. In an uncharacteristically gentle mood, he clasped his son's hand and gestured toward the brand-new house around them.
"Look at this place—bright, spacious, solid blue-tile roofing. All of this, every bit, is thanks to Clara. Lester, let me speak plainly, and don't get upset. If it weren't for Clara, you wouldn't be standing here in one piece today."
All the clan elders nodded in agreement. They had never thought much of Lester before, but thanks to Clara's diligence and work ethic, even this good-for-nothing Lester had become easier on the eyes.
Lester's mouth twitched. A surge of grievance rose in his chest. He grabbed Old Walter's hand in return.
"Father, you don't know how hard it's been for me."
Old Walter shot him a sideways glance. "Hard? What's hard about living in a house this nice and having a wife this capable managing the household? Don't be ungrateful!"
The old man raised his hand like he was about to slap him. "You treat Clara better from now on, you hear me? A couple living peacefully is worth more than gold. Stop acting like a fool!"
Lester finally got it—even if he told everyone Clara was a cold-blooded killer, no one would believe him.
Forget it, he thought in despair. One day if Clara really kills me, even when my body's rotting and stinking, no one will notice.
Old Walter assumed his son's silence was agreement and was satisfied. After giving a few more instructions, he let him go.
After the meal, the women stayed behind to clean up. Clara, with the help of Doreen and Kate, used the opportunity to get familiar with most of the villagers.
There were a ton of dishes to wash, but thanks to Clara's large sink, everyone fell in love with it the moment they used it.
Standing to wash dishes instead of squatting saved their backs.
Even draining water was easy—just pull the wooden plug and it would flow out on its own. No more lifting heavy basins out to the yard to dump water.
The sink was big, too. Spacious enough for several people to wash at once without bumping elbows. A massive pile of dishes was done in just fifteen minutes.
Clara divided the leftover food into portions and gave some to each family who had helped out, as a token of appreciation.
Though technically leftovers, Clara had generously bought 5kg of meat to cook for the event, so the remaining dishes still had plenty of meat. No one was put off—in fact, they all praised Clara for being generous and openhanded.
Several young women around her age invited Clara to join them for sewing work sometime.
Some who knew Clara wasn't handy with needlework joked, "Even if you don't sew, just chatting with us is great! You seem so worldly and experienced—we love hearing stories from outside. Come share with us more often."
The other women quickly chimed in, "Yes! We love hearing new stories!"
Feeling their warmth and sincerity, Clara smiled and agreed, "Alright, I'll join you when I can. Just don't mind me if I mess things up."
They all insisted, "Why would we mind? We'd love to have you."
As the courtyard was finally tidied up and night approached, everyone packed up their pots, bowls, tables, and stools, and headed home.
The relatives at the old Liew residence also dispersed. Farming folks never truly rested—if they weren't in the fields, they were weaving or making shoes. There was always something to do.
After seeing all the guests off, Clara closed the gate and did a final check of all the rooms before returning to her own.
She picked up a charcoal stick and began scribbling on a wooden board, calculating her recent expenses.
Renovating the house—including labor and furniture—had cost ten taels of silver.
Then, with the weather turning colder, Lester had pitifully begged for a winter coat, which cost another three silver coins.
But truth be told, clothes do make the man. He actually looked halfway decent in it.
And to his credit, his cooking had improved, and he'd been keeping the house in good shape. Clara found herself… grudgingly tolerating him.
Truly, there are no ugly men in the world—only lazy ones.
Today, she'd spent another five silver coins buying rice, meat, and vegetables—partly to restock after feeding the work crew and partly to prepare today's meal for the villagers.
Oh right, with Adam and the others now having beds of their own, she'd also bought a set of winter bedding.
She couldn't afford to buy four full sets anyway, nor was it necessary—when it gets really cold, they could just sleep two to a bed. That one set alone had cost five silver coins.
When she totaled everything up, she only had thirteen taels and seven silver coins left.
The weather was getting colder by the day. Luckily, she'd made Lester help her chop a good amount of firewood, now stacked neatly in the woodshed by the entrance—enough to last two months.
But they still needed charcoal.
And to burn charcoal, they needed a stove. More money.
Plus, they hadn't stockpiled any winter vegetables. More money again.
Money, money, money. Everything needed money!
Clara tossed the charcoal stick aside and flopped onto the bed, raking her fingers through her hair in frustration.
She needed to come up with a sustainable way to earn money—fast.
The family had only two acres of barren land, which was basically nothing. Their food, clothes, and daily needs all had to be bought. At this rate, their savings wouldn't last long.
No wonder Martha and the two sister-in-laws had tried to talk her out of spending all that money on the house.
They'd suggested skipping the tiled roof—those savings could've bought two acres of decent paddy land.
Or skipping the fancy shower room—that alone could've saved enough to buy half a acre of low-grade land.
They had so many "suggestions": the kids didn't need proper bunk beds—a few wooden boards on benches would've done the trick.
And yet Clara insisted on keeping every bit of it.
A home, to her, was a safe harbor. A comfortable environment was crucial for mental well-being. That money, she simply wasn't willing to skimp on.
Especially now, lying in a clean, warm room, on a soft bed—her fatigue melted away. She felt so comfortable she didn't want to move.
Knock knock knock!
A knock came from the door, followed by Lester's ingratiating voice, "Wife, are you free? I have something to discuss."
Clara stretched and got off the bed, moving to the table. "The door's not locked. Come in."
"Okay, I'm coming in then."
The door creaked open, and in came Lester, grinning sheepishly.
"So, uh… the money you gave me for groceries? It's… all gone."
Clara blinked. "Already?"
Lester's smile dropped instantly. Annoyed, he said, "You gave me three hundred copper coins, not three taels!"
"We've been eating three meals a day for over a month—thirty-eight days total. That's less than ten coins a day! And I've been following your rule of meat every five days. I've pinched every penny, even swallowed my pride to ask the other sister-in-laws for leftover veggies. You think it's easy for me?!"
Clara winced, realizing her earlier question might've been a bit harsh. He looked genuinely upset.
(End of Chapter)
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