The spring mountains were still chilly, so Clara hitched up the cart.
Before dawn had fully broken, with only a pale glow in the east, she set off with her four children and Ryder.
There was no time to cook breakfast, so they ate the rice balls she had made the night before. Each was stuffed with pork cracklings—fragrant and chewy, and somehow tastier cold.
Lunch would also be rice balls. The academy didn't provide meals, and for now, this was the only portable food Clara could prepare.
Later she'd try her hand at flatbreads or something else, just to vary things.
The children didn't hold out much hope. Adam even said they'd prepare their own breakfast and lunch in the future.
Clara had no objections. She'd still give them pocket money—and if they went hungry, they could always buy something extra in town.
At the crossroads to other villages, she picked up two more children, charging one copper coin each. A small profit from the trip.
After half an hour, they reached Riverbend Village.
The carter was already waiting at the main road. He blinked in surprise when Clara's cart unloaded seven children.
"Brother Carter," Clara teased, "you'll need to widen your cart. With this many little scholars heading for the academy, you'll be carrying them all from now on."
She pulled her own four children aside and gave stern instructions. "Listen carefully. If I hear you've been bullying other children, I'll deal with you when you get home.
And if I hear you were bullied and let it happen—you'll kneel on the washboard the moment you get back!"
The four froze, dumbfounded. So this was what kind of stepmother she was…
Still, they promised solemnly: never to bully others, and never to let themselves be bullied either.
Satisfied, Clara patted them on the back. "Go on then!"
"Goodbye, Mama!" Deb waved excitedly, scrambling onto the carter's ox cart with anticipation.
Clara watched until they disappeared, then turned the cart home.
Back at the quiet house, she felt unsettled. With nothing else to do, she shut the gate and went to work at the mill.
It was the children's first day of school, and she was strangely anxious.
Would they be seated in the back row, unable to hear the tutor? Would their simple rice balls draw mockery, leading to quarrels?
Carpenter Liew noticed her restless hands at the grindstone, worried she'd smash it in frustration. He urged her to rest.
Chuckling, he teased, "Didn't think someone as calm as you could get worked up like this."
Lunch came courtesy of his wife. She had sent food for two, but it was just an ordinary portion—hardly enough for Clara, who usually ate double. Yet today, she barely touched it, stirring at her rice without appetite.
At his joke, Clara sighed. "Could it be I've developed separation anxiety?"
They weren't even her own children—stepchildren, yet she still felt this way?
Carpenter Liew lost interest when she didn't reply. He finished eating, then pulled out his notched wooden board and began sketching—plans for the Mighty Book Chest. Once the design was right, he meant to use a piece of rosewood.
Clara glanced at it and suddenly thought of something. She tapped his shoulder.
"Shouldn't we stock up on wood?"
He gestured at the empty workshop. "For what? We barely have any orders."
Clara used the end of her chopsticks to tap his drawing. "For these. With so many children going to school now, this might have a market."
His heart leapt. "You're right! Why didn't I think of that?"
Clara jerked her chin. "This afternoon, let's buy wood. Leave the rosewood for later."
After working with her this long, Carpenter Liew knew: if they wanted to succeed, they had to act early and seize the opportunity.
He packed away his board, grabbed his empty bowl, and locked up the mill with Clara. Together, they walked the village, stopping at his house to drop off the dishes.
Every household had felled wood after the New Year, stacking logs to dry, trimming bark and branches for firewood.
They spent the afternoon collecting more than a dozen logs, each cheaper by 10-20% than buying from the market. Even if they didn't make book chests, it was still a good investment.
Clara hauled the wood home while Carpenter Liew haggled. They worked in easy rhythm.
As school let-out time approached, Clara left him to continue, promising to carry the rest later. She hurried home, washed her hands quickly, fetched the ox cart, and drove to Riverbend Village to meet the children.
She arrived early, waiting a quarter-hour before the carter's ox cart finally creaked into view, packed with children.
With every child carrying a chest or bamboo basket, the cart was overloaded and slow.
Luckily, Adam and Ben's book chests could be stacked, and Deb sat proudly atop them while her brothers guarded her sides—making the others envious.
Before the cart had even stopped, the twins shouted joyfully, "Mama!"
Clara pulled up her cart, helped transfer her four children and Ryder, and moved their chests. Then she noticed—one was missing.
Ben grinned sheepishly.
Clara frowned. "Where's your book chest?"
Ben, you rascal! Who loses their schoolbag on the very first day of class?
Ben hurried to explain. "I sold it!"
He pointed at Adam's chest. "My books are with him. Nothing's missing."
Before Clara could explode, he stuffed silver into her hand and leapt onto the cart with a triumphant grin. "Mama, I've got fantastic news. You'll be thrilled. But let's wait till we're home."
Clara weighed the five silvercoins in her palm, baffled, but chose to hold her tongue for now. She tapped his forehead. "We'll deal with you later."
Ben wasn't worried. Hidden under his tunic was a thick bundle of papers—that was his confidence.
Impatient to get answers, Clara snapped the reins, driving fast. Ryder wasn't ready for the rough ride and swayed helplessly, nearly sick by the time they reached home.
Seeing her nephew pale and miserable, Clara felt guilty. "Why didn't you say something, boy?"
Ryder muttered weakly, "I wanted to, but when I opened my mouth, it was all dust—so I shut it again."
Clara patted his shoulder apologetically. "Sorry about that. Tomorrow I'll drive slower. It's late—go on home."
He managed a smile, shouldered his bamboo basket, and trudged to his house.
Clara apologized once more, then led her children inside.
She barely had time to unhitch the cart before marching straight into the hall, slapping the silver onto the table.
"Ben Liew, explain yourself!"
(End of Chapter)
Enjoying the story? Get early access to new chapters on my Patreon: patreon.com/c/TinaWriterXD
Thank you for your support! 💛