That same day, after paying the stall rent, Li Yichen and Chen Mingyu did not rush home. Money was tight, but timing was tighter. They plunged straight into the noisy arteries of Yuxi County Market to look for tools.
In his previous life, Li Yichen had hustled like this while still in school—setting up small stalls, calculating margins, knowing exactly which tools were worth the money and which were just shiny nonsense. Compared to diagnosing patients, this was almost… comforting.
They walked through rows of ironware stalls, secondhand shops, and small electrical vendors.
After careful bargaining, Li Yichen finally settled on a second-hand electric blender. The body was metal, heavy in the hand, the glass jar slightly scratched but intact. The vendor swore it still ran smoothly.
He tested it.
The sound was rough, but steady.
Good enough.
With 180 yuan, this was what Li Yichen managed to purchase:
Second-hand electric blender – 85 yuan
Large aluminum pot (for boiling fruit syrup) – 18 yuan
Wooden stirring paddle – 3 yuan
Two stainless steel strainers – 6 yuan
Enamel basin (for washing fruits and meat) – 10 yuan
Small hand scale (up to 5kg) – 22 yuan
Glass bottles (second-hand, cleaned, 12 pieces) – 12 yuan
Sharp butcher knife – 15 yuan
Charcoal tongs and iron skewers (basic set) – 9 yuan
Total: 180 yuan, clean.
He also stopped to ask about tools for meatballs and barbecued meat—mincing knives, charcoal grills, iron racks. He memorized the prices, did the math in his head, then decisively turned away.
Not yet.
With the tools tied securely, the two of them returned to Chenjia County before dusk.
By the time they arrived home, the sun had softened.
Li Yichen rolled up his sleeves and laid everything out neatly on the floor.
His aunt's children—Chen Liangliang, Chen Meilan, and Chen Meixiu—crowded around immediately.
"Whoa—!"
"What's this?"
"Is this for grinding stones?"
Their eyes were round with curiosity. They ate meat often enough, but the world outside their village was still a storybook to them.
Chen Mingyu, proud of his rare trip to Yuxi, exaggerated shamelessly.
"The market is huge! People everywhere! Even drinks spinning inside glass machines!"
Li Yichen only smiled, letting him talk.
After testing the blender carefully, he turned serious.
"None of you touch these," he said calmly. "Not even to peek."
The children nodded quickly.
For lunch, Li Yichen cooked scallion eggs—golden, fluffy, the fragrance filling the mud house. They ate simply, chatting about village gossip and who had fallen ill, who was arguing over land again.
Afterward, Li Yichen washed the dishes himself.
He never mentioned how his aunt's husband rarely sent money back. There was no need. Wang Shulan was already doing her best—buying eggs, buying meat, never complaining. That kindness sat heavy in his chest.
At around four in the afternoon, Li Yichen changed his clothes and left again—this time to meet the money lender.
Paperwork was signed. Conditions were clear.
Loan: 2,000 yuan
Repayment: one year
When the money was finally in his hands, folded and hidden carefully, Li Yichen bowed deeply.
Tomorrow, he would build wooden cabinets and countertops.
At least this much, he could do himself.
On the other side of the story, Shen Anran pushed open the door to their house just as dusk crept in.
She had spent the day walking the market alone—asking prices, memorizing costs, comparing stalls. Her mother had left earlier, convinced only after Anran promised she was "just looking."
Only at night did memory strike.
The old Shen Anran had once saved 300 yuan.
She searched the clothing box and found it, tucked beneath folded garments. As her fingers brushed the clothes, she paused.
The fabric was decent.
The style… painfully outdated.
Second-hand clothes.
Practical. Cheap. Understandable.
She sighed.
If her business succeeded, she would learn sewing openly, buy her own machine, make sure no one could question her talent. This was not about vanity. It was about giving her mother a life away from the fields.
Liu Meilan had once been beautiful. Now hardship had carved its mark deeply. In the 21st century, women her age still glowed. Here, survival aged people quickly.
Shen Anran swallowed hard.
Her relatives in her past life had drained her dry.
This mother only taught her to save.
"Aiya—! My entrepreneur is back," Liu Meilan teased warmly, spreading a clean cloth on the dry mud floor. "Go wash your hands. Eat first."
That simple sentence pierced Shen Anran's heart.
"Oh… Mother…"
She said nothing more, eyes wet.
"Aiya, again crying," Liu Meilan laughed gently. "Hurry. Food will get cold."
Today's meal was braised pork with potatoes, steaming white rice beside it—Anran's favorite. She ate hungrily, heart warming with every bite.
When Liu Meilan returned with a cloth bag, Shen Anran wondered what was inside the cloth bag. She was just about to ask when Liu Meilan cut her off with a smile.
"Eat first, eat first. We'll talk later."
Anran blushed and lowered her head, obediently picking up her chopsticks. Her appetite was gone, curiosity gnawing at her instead. She ate quickly, barely tasting the food, her eyes darting now and then toward the bag resting quietly by her mother's side.
After the meal, Shen Anran packed the dishes while Liu Meilan waved her off, insisting on cleaning herself. Still, Anran carried the plates into the kitchen and washed them anyway. When she returned, she sat close to her mother on the floor. Their home was sparse—no proper furniture to speak of, only straw beds and a single rickety stool in the courtyard.
Liu Meilan finally reached for the bag, her eyes bright.
"See, see? I took a loan for you."
Anran froze.
"Mother…" Her voice trembled.
"Mother," she called again, tears threatening to spill.
"Aiya, crying again," Liu Meilan said lightly, though her own eyes softened. "Why cry? I know you want to learn sewing. I know you don't want me to keep working in the fields and selling produce just to survive. So I encourage you to open a shop. I'll help you supervise."
She paused, then added proudly, "Don't look down on mummy. I learned bookkeeping before. I can keep accounts, and I can learn fast—even if I'm old."
Anran's heart raced.
So this was what a good mother was like.
Perhaps she had sewn too many beautiful dresses in her past life, and heaven decided to reward her with someone like Liu Meilan—kind, selfless, unwavering.
Tears slipped free as Shen Anran leaned forward and hugged her tightly.
Since arriving in this strange era, this woman had stood firmly by her side. She had guided her, protected her, and now—she had even taken a loan for her.
"Mother… thank you."
That was all Shen Anran could say.
For now.