Chapter 43: Suggestions

“Mother, little sister is awake.”

Lin Wu was the most observant, the first to notice his sister opening her eyes. He turned his head and whispered to his mother.

“Hehe, Mother saw. Fang’er, are you hungry?”

“Mother—”

“Ah, Fang’er, don’t speak yet. Let Mother give you some water first.”

Lin Wu and Lin Xia dashed to the table, both eager to pour water for their sister. But Lin Cui’e had already fetched warm water, so the two of them hurried back.

Held in her mother’s arms, Lin Fang was indeed thirsty. She drank a whole cup in one go and gestured for more. Li Cuimei shook her head, wiping Lin Fang’s lips with a handkerchief as she gently coaxed, “Aunt Liu has already prepared porridge. If you drink more water, your little belly won’t have room for the porridge, and my precious will go hungry.”

Lin Juan took the cup from her aunt and placed it back on the table.

Lin Wen instructed someone outside, “Xiao Mo, tell Aunt Liu that the sixth young miss is awake. Bring the porridge.”

“Yes, Second Young Master.”

Xiao Mo was Lin Wen’s attendant and the grandson of Aunt Liu. His original name was Li Xiaosi, a common name everywhere. Lin Wen found it unpleasant and too ordinary, so he renamed him Li Xiaomo. His three older brothers—Li Xiaoda, Li Xiaoer, and Li Xiaosan—were renamed Li Xiaoqin, Li Xiaogeng, and Li Xiaobi, respectively. Li Xiaobi served Lin Meng, who had initially wanted to name him Li Xiaobian. Lin Wen didn’t object but silently stared at his elder brother until Lin Meng relented and surrendered.

Numerous pairs of eyes watched as Lin Fang ate her porridge. Even Qi Biao, though not as intensely, occasionally glanced her way. Lin Fang, not truly a child, felt extremely uncomfortable under their gaze. She called out to her mother, glanced around, and refused to take another bite.

“Hehe, you little clever one. They’re all family—no need to be shy.”

Li Cuimei found it amusing but still shooed the children away. “Fang’er is awake now, so you can all stop worrying. Go about your own business.”

“But… little sister hasn’t called me ‘Fifth Brother’ yet,” Lin Wu said softly, likely afraid of startling his recovering sister.

“Right, right! She hasn’t called me ‘Fourth Sister’ either.”

Lin Fang looked around—everyone else seemed to share the same sentiment.

“Fifth Brother—”

“Ah—hehe, your voice isn’t as sweet as before. Drink more porridge and get better soon.”

“Fourth Sister—”

“Ah, get well quickly, little sister. Fourth Sister won’t tease you anymore.”

“Aunt—”

“Fang’er, be good. Drink your porridge while it’s still warm.”

“Third Sister—”

“Little sister, be good. Third Sister embroidered a hand warmer for you. You can wear it when you go out to play.”

“Second Brother—”

“Hehe, Second Brother will bring you candied hawthorns when he comes back from school.”

Hmph, that dark-skinned one—I’m not familiar with you, so I’ll skip you.

“Madam, it’s getting late. Lin Wen and I should head to school. You and the sixth young miss should rest well.”

Oh? Quite perceptive. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.

But the moment she thought of praising him, the look in his eyes—indifference? Hmph, don’t expect me to spare you another glance in the future.

Lin Fang’s illness had been inexplicable. The doctor said it was a heart condition, but Lin Fang disagreed. Even though her mother’s joke a few days ago had frightened Lin Wen and Lin Wu, she had been the one to bring it up. As an adult at heart, she knew the difference between a joke and the truth. Perhaps, as Buddhism would say, her soul hadn’t fully settled into her new life—some unfinished business from her past life still lingered.

Recalling what she had seen and heard that day, Lin Fang trembled. She never wanted to experience that again—it was too painful. If it happened once more, she wasn’t sure her soul would return intact. She was content with her current life. Lin Fang admitted she was burying her head in the sand, but she truly didn’t want any more turmoil.

“Fang’er, Fang’er!”

Li Cuimei called anxiously. Since recovering, her daughter seemed like a different person—no longer clamoring to play, often lost in thought. The string she used to fiddle with constantly remained untouched these past few days. Had the illness regressed her to the state she was in at two months old—silent, motionless, almost dull-witted?

“Mother—why isn’t Father back yet? Fang’er hasn’t had candied hawthorns today.”

“Ah—hehe, your father is handing over the shop to your uncle today. He won’t be back until dark. If you really want candied hawthorns, Mother will send someone to buy them. What else would my precious like to eat?” At least she remembered the candied hawthorns—she must be fine.

“Oranges. They’re sweet and sour—so delicious.”

Startled by her mother’s expression, Lin Fang mentioned food to divert her attention and reassure her. But as she spoke, her mouth watered—she really was craving them.

The way Lin Fang licked her lips and swallowed made Li Cuimei laugh. “Hehe, such a little glutton. Your eldest uncle sends southern fruits every year around this time. They should arrive soon. If there are oranges, I’ll let you have a few extra.”

Had Li Cuimei been more observant, she might have questioned how a child not yet two remembered oranges—a rare fruit not sold in their town—from a year ago. But as a mother, she saw her child as extraordinary. She talked to her daughter daily, sharing everything she saw and heard, whether the child understood or not. To her, any unusual cleverness in her daughter was only natural.

The shops Li Cuimei mentioned were part of her dowry—one in the village, the only general store there, and another in Jile Town, specializing in grain trade. The latter was originally Pan Shi’s dowry, passed to her daughter upon marriage. The harvests from Li Cuimei’s dowry land were all sold through this shop. The managers and clerks in both shops were from the Li family, all bound by contracts.

Her parents were truly shrewd. The village shop appeared unremarkable—who would suspect it was part of the prestigious Li family’s dowry? The shop concealed a large compound behind it, divided into three sections, each with a discreet side door. The grain shop in Jile Town was even more inconspicuous, its courtyard larger than their current home.

A remark from Li Ziyang sent chills down Lin Lang’s spine: “Either shop alone could sustain my third sister if she ever left her marriage.”

So, even before their marriage, her parents had prepared an escape route. That she remained by his side now was nothing short of divine grace.

When Lin Lang asked Li Cuimei about her plans for the shops, she had already decided: “Leave the Jile Town shop as is—Manager Dong is a trusted veteran. But the village property—I want to renovate it, hire women, train them to make clothes, and sell them in the shop. If they sell well, we can wholesale them. The front will still sell sundries.”

“Good. I’ll go find Sixth Brother. Sketch your ideas, and once he gathers workers, we can start.”

Lin Fang, who had resumed playing with her string, suddenly spoke up: “Mother, Fang’er has an idea.”

Lin Lang, about to leave, turned back and sat beside his daughter, pulling her into his lap and teasing her little ponytail. “Oh? What idea does my clever girl have? It’s already dark—if you want candied hawthorns, you’ll have to wait till tomorrow.”

Tickled by her father’s playful tugging, Lin Fang climbed onto his lap and grabbed his large hands. “Fang’er knows. Mother said eating candied hawthorns at night ruins teeth. Fang’er means—one section for cutting, one for sewing, one for finishing.”

“Fang’er?”

How could a child so young think of this? Li Cuimei and Lin Lang gasped in unison.

“Aunt Liu said—Aunt Liu braids, Fang’er ties, Fifth Brother unties. Each does their own work, no interference. Fast and easy.”

Oh—the couple sighed in relief. Their daughter was clever, drawing insights from others’ words that children her age wouldn’t grasp. Though simplistic, sometimes her ideas held merit. Lin Lang stayed, and the two began discussing Lin Fang’s suggestion. The more they considered it, the more feasible it seemed—streamlined, efficient, and minimizing blame-shifting.

Lin Fang’s idea was nothing new in her past life—just an assembly line. But in this world of manual labor, it was revolutionary. Division of labor not only improved efficiency but also prevented apprentices from mastering the entire craft and turning on their masters.

She had read about a renowned chef who ran a successful restaurant. Rivals poached his staff at high prices, only to find the chefs useless on their own. The chef had trained each person in a single task—fire-tending, washing, chopping, plating, cooking, serving. Together, they created delicacies. Separated, they were worthless.