When Clara and the four kids returned home, legs caked in mud and barefoot, Lester Liew was struck dumb at the sight.
"Did you all go bathe in a mud pit?" he asked, stunned.
The skies had cleared, and the mud clinging to their calves had begun to dry, emitting a strong earthy stench. The five of them were oblivious to it, too excited as they overturned the large wooden bath basin, one fetching water, the others tipping over their baskets.
Plump field fish flopped into the basin, the shallow sides nearly overflowing as some fish almost leapt out. Chad and Deb panicked and dove in, pressing the fish back down, splashing themselves silly and giggling like fools.
Seeing the basin overflowing with fish, Lester finally chuckled. "Where'd all this come from?"
They'd never bothered to buy fish fry for the fields, finding it too troublesome.
Clara was rinsing the caked mud from her legs and used the opportunity to scrub the muddy grass sandals the kids had worn into paste.
Adam and Ben excitedly told their father how fish from neighboring families' paddies had been flushed out by the rain, and they'd only regretted not bringing more baskets—otherwise they could've caught even more.
But a single vat of water couldn't clean five muddy humans. Clara waved a hand grandly. "To the well we go!"
The kids hollered and tossed their baskets aside, charging downhill barefoot like wild boars set loose.
Rainwater had carved little rivulets through the paths, splashing noisily beneath their feet. They were completely wild with joy.
Lester looked on helplessly. "Aren't you going to rein them in? What if they catch cold running around like this?"
Clara hoisted her two extra-large buckets with a grin, tilting her head toward the sun just breaking through the clouds. "With the sun out this strong, if they don't play now, the water'll dry up before they even get a chance."
If it dries, the fun's gone—so best enjoy it while it lasts.
Then she asked Lester if he wanted to join the fun. He waved frantically. "Perish the thought! I've got copying to finish—don't ruin my scholarly virtue!"
Clara scoffed and, with bare feet splashing, called out to the kids ahead:
"A monster's coming to catch little kids!"
The four turned to look and let out high-pitched shrieks before bolting back toward the village in a frenzy.
The muddy road didn't help—by the time they finished that sprint, their clothes were completely beyond salvation.
By noon, Lester was sneaking down to a secluded riverbank with a massive pile of filthy laundry, so angry he could chew nails.
She had promised so confidently: "We'll all wash our own clothes." But what happened?
After fetching water, Clara had simply bundled up all five sets of muddy clothes and tossed them into his arms.
Could he say no?
Would he dare?
"Sigh… women and children—unmanageable, the both of them," he muttered under his breath.
His mouth complained, but his hands moved with practiced ease.
The post-storm river rushed with clear water. He looked up—towering green mountains in the distance, a sky scrubbed clean by rain. It was picturesque.
Never mind—he was out of words. Lester bent back over the basin and kept scrubbing.
Meanwhile, back home, someone knocked on the courtyard gate.
Clara answered and found the face familiar. "And you are…?"
The man, leading a donkey, looked to be in his thirties with a pointed goatee and a clean blue robe—clearly not your average farmer.
He smiled and introduced himself. "Madam Clara, I'm Manager Wu from the grain shop in Goldstone Town. We spoke the other day in Riverbend Village, remember? About the water mill?"
Recognition lit up Clara's face. "Ah, it's you! Have you decided to build the water mill then?"
"Come in, come in—you must be tired from the journey. The rain just stopped this morning, the roads must be muddy."
Clara welcomed him in. Manager Wu glanced around and, seeing no man in the yard, politely declined entering the main house and took a seat in the courtyard instead.
He accepted a cup of warm water and got straight to the point. "Like I mentioned before, I don't need a large setup—just something like that little waterwheel by your river. I'd like three of them. Compact, doesn't take up much space."
"You said it was about two taels per small waterwheel. Does that still stand?"
Clara nodded. "Two taels per waterwheel. If you already have your own millstone prepared, I'll just charge 100 copper coins for installation. Fair?"
"No millstone included?" Manager Wu blinked. He had assumed it was an all-in-one deal.
Clara pulled over a small stool to sit across from him and sighed. "You know the price of timber. Just the materials alone cost more than one tael. Plus delivery and labor. We do need to earn something. If we include the millstones too, I'd be working for free."
Manager Wu sighed. "Any kind of millstone works? If I have to arrange that too, it's a bit of a hassle. Just give me a full package price. I didn't come all this way to leave undecided. Let's settle it today."
Clara signaled for him to relax and mentally ran the numbers.
If one person had come knocking, more would surely follow.
For the convenience-seekers, she could offer a bundled price including waterwheel and millstone. For the frugal, just the wheel—they could source their own.
But why let outsiders profit off the millstone sales when her own village could benefit?
Market prices were clear, and she decided: delivery included within Willowridge County; beyond that, buyers would handle shipping.
"How about this—small water mill set, installation and delivery included within the county, three taels a set."
Clara wore an expression that practically said, I'm already not making any money here. "A single large millstone runs five to six hundred copper coins on the market. I'm barely earning. If that's acceptable, I can come survey your site tomorrow morning."
"If the conditions aren't suitable for building a water mill, we'll drop the idea."
Manager Wu quickly did the math. Three small wheels at three taels each—nine taels total. Compared to the fifteen taels Riverbend Village spent, that was a steal.
Of course, price had its reasons. Riverbend's system used higher-grade materials and horizontal wheels that were more powerful and less dependent on water flow—meaning year-round operation, unless faced with an exceptional drought.
"Deal. I'll wait at home for you tomorrow," Manager Wu agreed. He wasn't thinking of milling grain for himself—he wanted to turn it into a business.
Time was of the essence. He needed scale and speed to get ahead of competitors.
Clara raised a brow and offered a suggestion: "If you're planning to run this as a mill business, three waterwheels might not be enough. Adding a water-powered grinder would broaden your appeal."
Manager Wu let out a dry laugh. "Madam Clara, we haven't even confirmed if the mill can be built, and you're already upselling me? Don't worry—if it works out, I won't stop at just one grinder. I might install four or five."
Clara waved a hand with a grin. "Alright, let's not sell dreams to each other."
Manager Wu left his address, then took a look at Clara's own water mill. As he examined it, he kept repeating, "This is great, this is great."
With high hopes, he finally departed.
(End of chapter)
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