Clan Rise: Starting as a Grandfather Chapter 4 - 4 3 Money Cant Stop Being Spent

Chapter 4: Chapter 3 Money Can’t Stop Being Spent Chapter 4: Chapter 3 Money Can’t Stop Being Spent Following some rest, Yang Zhenshan sensed a notable improvement in his condition, though his belly soon began rumbling once more.

Nearly midday had arrived, and his morning intake had consisted solely of a single bowl of coarse grain porridge, which offered little sustenance.

Yang Zhenshan glanced toward the kitchen; the household followed a routine of just two daily meals, with the subsequent one scheduled for evening. He doubted his ability to endure until that time.

Humans require sustenance like iron demands steel; missing even one meal brings intense hunger.

“Daughter-in-law, prepare the meal!”

Yang Zhenshan issued the command without hesitation.

Ms. Wang, in the midst of clearing the yard, halted her work, “Father, cook at this hour?”

The family adhered to two meals per day and lacked the custom of midday dining.

“Indeed, starting today, we’ll have three meals daily,” Yang Zhenshan maintained his role, delivering his words directly and succinctly.

“Three meals a day!” Ms. Wang expressed astonishment, “Father, our grain supplies are quite limited.”

Starvation holds no appeal for anyone, yet with the scant remaining grain, careful rationing was essential to bridge the gap until the next harvest.

“I’m aware; this afternoon, I’ll head to the county with the eldest son to purchase more grain,” Yang Zhenshan replied calmly.

His intentions extended beyond grain to include meat as well; the family hadn’t savored meat in ages. The former owner had been stingy with such indulgences, but Yang Zhenshan refused to deprive himself.

Furthermore, rebuilding his physique demanded attention. Though the Spiritual Spring Water possessed restorative qualities, his intention to resume Martial Arts training necessitated proper nourishment.

Ms. Wang cast a look of surprise toward Yang Zhenshan yet refrained from probing deeper, recognizing that such choices fell under the patriarch’s domain, and as the媳妇, she ought not to challenge her father-in-law.

Before long, Ms. Wang assembled a simple spread of cornbread and coarse grain porridge, supplemented by a plate of leek and egg stir-fry.

What passed for leek and egg stir-fry featured merely two eggs blended into two ample portions of leeks.

Yang Mingcheng and Yang Mingzhi, fresh from their labors in the fields, came back and stared in bewilderment at the spread, puzzled by Ms. Wang’s decision to prepare lunch this day.

“Father requested it!” Ms. Wang murmured to Yang Mingcheng.

Yang Mingcheng turned his gaze to Yang Zhenshan emerging from the dwelling. He yearned to inquire about the midday meal’s preparation, yet upon noting Yang Zhenshan’s impassive demeanor, he held his tongue.

“Clean yourselves and come eat.” Yang Zhenshan saw no need for justifications; as their father now, he held the freedom to act without detailing his motives to them.

In this era of rigid hierarchies, obedience to elders stood supreme; children querying their parents equated to disloyalty.

Yang Zhenshan took his place at the table’s head and started on the porridge.

Hunger gnawed at him fiercely.

Ms. Wang’s cooking remained exceedingly basic; under ordinary circumstances, Yang Zhenshan might have struggled to consume it.

However, fault lay not with Ms. Wang, for crafting fine meals proves challenging without ingredients; earlier, Yang Zhenshan had inspected the kitchen and discovered only a modest pot of lard and rough salt—no additional flavorings.

Under these constraints, expecting refined or tasty fare seemed unreasonable.

At present, Yang Zhenshan held no grounds for grievance; possessing food at all proved a blessing.

…

The village of the Yang family nestles against Changqing Mountain. From the village gateway, gazing northward reveals an unbroken expanse of forest, while southward stretches infinite rich farmland.

Villagers predominantly bear the Yang surname, tracing back to a common ancestry; nevertheless, Yang Zhenshan’s line remained sparse, producing just one son across three generations, leaving him with few siblings.

Come afternoon, Yang Zhenshan directed Yang Mingcheng to ready the ox-cart, and they proceeded leisurely toward the county seat.

Rural paths proved rough and irregular, and without any cushioning on the cart’s wheels, the journey jarred relentlessly. Upon arriving at the county town, Yang Zhenshan felt utterly battered.

Yang Family Village lay not far from the county seat, merely ten li distant, yet the trip consumed half an hour.

Such glacial pace left Yang Zhenshan unwilling to contemplate the duration for journeys spanning hundreds or thousands of li.

Once inside the county town, Yang Zhenshan surveyed the area with keen interest; recollections from his predecessor clashed with the vivid scene before him. The town bustled with vitality, streets flanked by successive shops and thronged with ceaseless foot traffic.

This stood as no fabricated heritage site but an authentic antique settlement, its lineup of rustic structures evoking true antiquity, complemented by the genuine attire of inhabitants that infused an undeniable vintage essence.

Ning County bore this name, situated in the Da Rong Dynasty’s northeast. An additional three hundred li north marked the dynasty’s frontier, past which roamed the domains of wandering tribes. The original Yang Zhenshan had served in the military to repel assaults from these northern nomads along that border.

“Father, shall we visit third brother first?” inquired Yang Mingcheng from the cart’s reins.

Yang Zhenshan paused briefly, then recalled his third son’s apprenticeship at a local smithy.

With presence in the town, bypassing a visit to his third son would prove discourteous.

“Market first!”

Appearing before his son without offerings would be unseemly.

Drawing from the predecessor’s recollections, Yang Zhenshan understood the rigors of smithy apprenticeship.

Apprentice means laborious toil in essence.

Grimy and exhausting chores fall to the apprentices, and acquiring craftsmanship hinges on the master’s willingness to instruct.

Moreover, apprentices receive no pay, merely board and shelter.

Yang Minghao, the third son at thirteen, had entered the smithy a year prior under the original owner’s arrangement.

Just thirteen, without even basic schooling behind him, the thought stirred irritation in Yang Zhenshan.

Reaching the market, Yang Zhenshan procured two shi of grain initially, followed by oil, salt, soy, vinegar, and concluding with ten jin of pork alongside some bones.

Considering the impending visit to his third son, Yang Zhenshan added twenty steamed buns filled with meat.

Having circled the market, the ten taels of silver Yang Zhenshan carried dwindled to under two taels.

As they departed the market, Yang Zhenshan reflected with a touch of melancholy on money’s swift depletion.

Numerous additional purchases lingered in his mind, but the scant silver remaining forced him to curb his spending impulses.

The smithies of Anning County encompass a wide array of operations, crafting not only farm implements but also armaments such as blades, lances, swords, and polearms.

Martial Arts flourish across the Da Rong Dynasty, where though true experts remain scarce, widespread practice persists, akin to Yang Family Village where nearly all possess basic Martial Arts knowledge, upholding the Yang lineage’s customs.

Within feudal structures, clans form vital pillars; grand ones equate to noble houses, while modest ones serve as community foundations, each adhering to unique heritages.

Proximity to the border exposes Anning County to frequent northern tribal incursions, fostering greater Martial Arts adoption among locals. Consequently, households frequently possess arms like blades, lances, swords, and polearms.

Additionally, with Changqing Mountain nearby, hunters abound at its base, and proficient archers prove plentiful.

This particular smithy before them ranks as Anning County’s premier, employing five skilled artisans and over a dozen learners, owned by the Lu family of the region.

“Youngest, what brings you here?”

Entering the smithy, Yang Zhenshan met a robust figure who, despite his build, moved with a limp.

Lu Zhou, a side-branch Lu family member and former comrade of the original owner, had commanded as flag bearer during the original’s military days. Yang Minghao’s placement here owed to Lu Zhou’s influence.

“Brother Lu, I’m here to check on Ming Hao.” Yang Zhenshan offered a subtle grin.

During enlistment, the original owner served as the greenest under Lu Zhou, earning the moniker ‘youngest’.

As wartime companions, Lu Zhou had consistently supported the original owner; regrettably, a grave wound from that conflict left him with a persistent limp.

“Ming Hao, Ming Hao!” Lu Zhou bellowed, his roar overpowering the shop’s relentless hammering echoes.

“Father!”

A brawny youth dashed forward, shirtless on the shoulders, his complexion tanned from toil.

Yang Zhenshan acknowledged his third son with a nod, then passed the three jin of pork he held to Lu Zhou, “Brother Lu, I need a moment with Ming Hao.”

“What’s this gift for a simple talk?” Lu Zhou chided mildly.

Yang Zhenshan offered no further words, merely pressing the pork into Lu Zhou’s grasp, “I must hurry home today, so little time to converse with you, Brother.”

Thereafter, he pivoted and exited the smithy. From the original’s memories, he knew Lu Zhou’s open-handed nature would dismiss the modest pork, yet Yang Zhenshan valued balanced exchanges; with his third son reliant on Lu Zhou’s guidance, presenting a token proved appropriate.

Lu Zhou examined the pork in his hold, then observed Yang Zhenshan’s retreat, resolving to better safeguard Yang Minghao going forward.

Alas, as a mere collateral Lu, the smithy lay beyond his sway, limiting his aid to Yang Minghao.

“Eldest brother!”

Exiting the smithy, Yang Minghao spotted his father and elder sibling, his features lighting with an innocent grin.

“How’s life treating you—too exhausting?”

Yang Mingcheng, ever affectionate toward his younger kin, seized the rare county visit to engage in heartfelt dialogue.

Yang Zhenshan observed silently from aside, feeling scant attachment to these adopted sons and thus disinclined to chit-chat.

Besides, the original owner favored brevity in speech, rendering his quietude fitting.

Once the siblings concluded their exchange, Yang Zhenshan extended five meat-filled buns to his third son, accompanied by a hundred copper pieces.

“All’s well at home—cease your concerns!”

Yang Zhenshan clapped his third son’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Look after yourself!”

Yang Mingcheng urged the ox-cart onward from the smithy, leaving Yang Minghao at its entrance, expression tinged with reluctance.

Departing young from hearth and home, even fleeting family reunions proved scarce.

Aboard the ox-cart, Yang Zhenshan eyed the receding smithy, a heavy sigh escaping inwardly.

Home life presses with unrelenting hardship.

Devising strategies to elevate the family’s fortunes became imperative; at minimum, ensuring ample food and shelter stood essential.