As expected by Dalang, early the next morning after Shi Binhua caused trouble at the book gathering, Shi Liaoliang arrived at the Lin family’s residence with his son and a pile of gifts to apologize. He showered them with flattery, all with one goal in mind—to beg the Lin family to cover up the incident from the day before. Dalang found it quite awkward. How could such a public incident, witnessed by hundreds, possibly be concealed? He inwardly scorned Shi Binhua’s behavior, which was well-known throughout the town. What was the point of such a futile attempt to deceive oneself?
Shi Liaoliang was well aware that this was a fool’s errand. His real aim was to get Dalang to restrain Guo Mian and prevent him from reporting the incident to the teacher. No matter how wealthy Shi was, he couldn’t handle the teacher—a retired official known for his rigid principles and high regard for Guo Mian. Such a man was beyond Shi’s influence.
Dalang grew even more exasperated. “You should be begging Guo Mian for this. Your son nearly had his servants beat him yesterday. Instead of apologizing to him, why come to me?”
Shi Liaoliang gritted his teeth in frustration but forced an even more ingratiating smile. “Guo Mian depends on your Lin family for his livelihood. Though he’s not your servant, he still has to listen to your family to some extent.” Inside, he was frantic. He and his wife had split up to handle the situation—he went to Dalang while she waited at the school gate. If she spotted Guo Mian, she would try to persuade him. If he refused, she would stall him until Shi could negotiate terms with Dalang and regroup with her.
While the two old foxes danced around each other, Shi’s wife waited anxiously at the school gate like an ant on a hot pan. Little did she know, Guo Mian hadn’t come to school at all that day. His mother was ill, and he spent his days caring for her and telling stories for her at night. He had already asked the teacher for leave the day before. Touched by his filial piety, the teacher lent him prepared lecture notes in advance, allowing him to return to school after his mother recovered—only deepening the teacher’s admiration for him.
In the end, Shi Liaoliang sold a prime piece of land behind the fishery to Dalang at market price. Though Dalang didn’t lowball him, Shi still felt the sting. Land prices in town were rising, and while the plot wasn’t near the main road, it wasn’t far either—it might have been useful someday. Selling it now was a loss, but he had no choice. Returning home, he vented his frustration by berating Shi Binhua. “There are plenty of beautiful women in town—why did you have to provoke the Lin family’s precious daughter?”
On the day Lin Wen’s summer break began, following Lin Fang’s plan, the Tian family’s courtyard and adjacent vacant land were officially converted into a goat farm. The goats had already been purchased. Since the area primarily raised sheep, the hundred-plus goats were brought in from elsewhere by Dalang’s men. Curious, Lin Wen accompanied his sister to inspect the farm and asked, “What’s the point of raising these goats? Goat meat is gamier than mutton, and locals might not take to it. Besides, goat wool is too coarse and stiff—useless compared to Grandaunt’s sheep, whose wool can be sheared for clothing.”
Lin Fang grinned. “It’s a secret.”
Her brother wasn’t wrong—the goats’ wool was rough and unsuitable even for brush-making. For now, it seemed useless, but she wasn’t ready to reveal her reasons yet. Still, she was deeply grateful for her family’s unconditional support.
Unable to get an answer, Lin Wen teased her. “What, are you saving up for your dowry?”
Lin Fang pouted. “Is Second Brother saying I have to save for my own dowry? Do you dislike me that much?”
Lin Wen pinched her nose. “You little imp—you know that’s not what I meant.”
Since goats graze down to the roots, they’re more destructive to the environment than sheep. If Lin Fang profited from this, others would quickly follow suit. Not wanting to be cursed by future generations, she decided to set a good example by keeping the goats penned and feeding them cut grass.
When the family sent someone to buy the goats, Lin Fang had instructed them to try hiring the original herders as well, to train their own people. So, the goats’ former owner and a few companions came along. However, they couldn’t stay indefinitely, so Lin Fang needed to quickly find and train new hands—a matter she’d have to discuss with her parents.
“Fang’er, how about I tend the goats?” After her divorce, Liu Lang had worried about the crowded Lin household and his nieces’ and nephews’ dislike of Qi Mei. He’d considered taking Lin Cuiping to live with him, but Yuan Li was close with the Zhong family—her aunt was Zhong’s mother. If Zhong family members visited, Liu Lang, as a man, could tolerate it by simply avoiding them. But it would be awkward for Lin Cuiping, putting Yuan Li in a difficult position. So, Lin Cuiping worked in the rental district by day and returned to Dalang’s house at night. Hearing Lin Fang discuss goat farming with her parents, she made her offer.
The moment Lin Cuiping spoke, the family turned to her with mixed expressions.
Li Cuimei asked, “Cuiping, why tend goats? You know Auntie keeps them as a pastime, while Fang’er has a purpose. Besides, with over a hundred goats—more mischievous than sheep—the work is dirty, exhausting, and rough on the skin.”
Lin Cuiping sighed. “Sister-in-law, please don’t mention looks. If not for my vanity, I wouldn’t have turned myself into a useless person. Lately, working in the rental district, I’ve been pestered with questions—why, as a Lin relative, I’d do such labor. Some even make lewd remarks. I’d rather avoid it all. Tending goats would give me peace.”
“Humph! Goat farming isn’t retirement—don’t romanticize it.” Lin Wen, irritated, spoke rudely despite his parents’ presence and Lin Cuiping’s seniority.
“Wen’er, mind your manners!” Dalang scolded, then turned to Lin Cuiping. “If you dislike the rental work, I can arrange something else. Or if you have ideas, speak plainly.”
Lin Cuiping shook her head. “Goats may be mischievous, but they lack human filth. If Fang’er agrees, I’ll tend them.”
A respected elder, reduced to begging her young niece for refuge from the world—Lin Fang pitied her. Thinking it made little difference whether Lin Cuiping was there or not, she agreed.
After selecting suitable workers from the labor market, Lin Fang specifically assigned Zhou Erxiao to assist Lin Cuiping, forming the goat-herding team.
Zhou Erxiao, gentle by nature, had a natural affinity for animals. Confined to the household, Lin Fang felt it was a waste. Moreover, Zhou was strong—perfect for the farm’s heavy labor. Lin Cuiping wasn’t foolish; with proper guidance, Zhou would be an excellent helper. Conversely, if Lin Cuiping misbehaved, Zhou wasn’t truly naive either.
Haha, my cashmere sweaters—soon I’ll have cashmere to wear! Lin Fang could laugh in her sleep. This was soft gold! Time to ask Second Uncle to make some iron combs for spring shearing. Haha!
Yes, Lin Fang’s goal was cashmere—to weave cashmere sweaters.
An avid reader, Lin Fang knew about cashmere.
Cashmere grows beneath goats’ coarse outer hair—a thin layer of fine down that develops in winter for warmth and sheds in spring. It’s a rare, special animal fiber. Each spring, during molting, the down is collected with special iron combs.
Cashmere’s value lies not only in its scarcity but also in its superior quality, traded by the gram. Dubbed “fiber gem” and “fiber queen,” it’s unmatched by any other textile, earning it the nickname “soft gold.”
Cashmere fibers are fine and curly, trapping air for insulation. Finer and smoother than wool, they are lightweight, soft, and resilient—making them ideal for close-fitting garments that offer unparalleled comfort.
Only goat down qualifies as cashmere; sheep wool, no matter how fine, doesn’t count.
Lin Fang had another goal: goat milk. Inspired by Tong Shi’s mention of herders, she recalled Tong’s daily goat milk consumption. From her past life, she knew goat milk’s benefits—Tong’s youthful appearance stemmed partly from her skincare but also from goat milk.
Here, Lin Fang hadn’t seen cow’s milk consumed. Comparing the two, each had merits.
Goat milk has half the protein of cow’s milk but slightly more fat and carbs. Its advantages lie beyond nutrients—its fat globules are a third the size, aiding absorption without weight gain. Higher in calcium, phosphorus, vitamins A and B, it benefits vision and energy. Easier to digest, it suits those with allergies, digestive issues, or weakness, even infants.
Fewer people consume goat’s milk, deterred by its taste and unaware of its benefits. However, the *Compendium of Materia Medica* records: “Goat’s milk, sweet and warm in nature, non-toxic, moistens the heart and lungs, and replenishes kidney qi.” Traditional Chinese medicine highly values it for lung and respiratory health.
For women, its vitamin E content helps combat aging and improves skin elasticity. The epidermal growth factor it contains aids in repairing skin cells. For the elderly, its warming properties provide nourishment. The growth factor also assists in repairing the respiratory and digestive tract linings, thereby enhancing immunity. For mental workers, drinking a cup before bedtime can soothe the nerves. Being easily digestible, it places no burden on the body or waistline.
Lin Fang wanted her whole family to drink goat milk.
Once the goat farm was settled, Lin Fang sensed something amiss. She asked Lin Wen, who’d been shadowing her: “Second Brother, Young Master Qi used to follow you everywhere. Why hasn’t he appeared since your break? Did you two quarrel?”
“Since when do you care about Young Master Qi?” Lin Wen felt uneasy, recalling the gift Qi Biao had pressed on him during Lin Fang’s first New Year—it still unsettled him.
Lin Fang fanned the air, wrinkling her nose. “Hmm? Do I smell vinegar? Has Second Brother’s cold noodles from last night not digested?”
Lin Wen turned away. “There are wildflowers over there—I’ll pick some for you.”
Wildflowers? It was a patch of weeds. Lin Fang mused—did every doting brother randomly get jealous? Even Father, whenever she spoke too long with any male, would intervene or whisk her away. She was only five—why the early vigilance?
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