"Ben, where's your big brother?" Clara asked curiously.
Ben had just washed his hands and was scooping water for Chad and Deb to wash up. At her question, he replied, "Still down by the river trying to catch fish."
Clara raised a brow. "Did they catch anything today?"
Deb jumped in first. "Big Brother didn't get anything, but Uncle Ryder and Cousin Billy did!"
Clara arched an eyebrow. So Adam wasn't planning to come home for dinner unless he caught something?
Just as she was about to head to the river and call the kid back, he returned on his own.
He was still holding the forked branch Clara had made him, but his hands were empty—no fish in sight.
"Dad. Aunt Clara." Adam greeted them gloomily, carefully placing the branch under the eaves before trudging off to wash his hands and head inside to eat.
Lester Liew poked Adam's arm with his chopsticks, clearly enjoying himself. "What happened? Came back empty-handed?"
"Deb said Ryder and Billy both caught something. Weren't you all together? How come they didn't share one with you? Left you to come back empty?"
Adam was already downcast about not catching anything, and hearing his dad rub it in only made him more sullen.
Just as Lester was about to say more, Clara cast him a cold, warning glance. He promptly shut his mouth and focused on stuffing his face.
Clara turned to Adam. "Didn't catch anything today? Try again tomorrow. You'll get one eventually. No need to rush."
Adam lifted his head from his bowl. His clear, dark eyes met hers for a second before he gave a soft "Mm" and nodded.
There wasn't any meat for dinner tonight. Lester had somehow managed to buy some eggs and scrambled a plate. He'd also boiled some greens.
Clara didn't even want to comment on the presentation, but at least the seasoning was passable. Honestly, she was just thankful it was edible.
Judging from the meals Lester had made the past couple of days, this guy clearly had no talent for cooking!
But hey—people can learn.
So after dinner, Clara offered Lester a few suggestions and "constructive feedback" on his recent kitchen performance, encouraging him to keep improving.
Her tone was gentle, but her hands were busy polishing the short dagger that had gathered some dust from disuse.
Lester, naturally, didn't dare protest.
He could only nod rapidly and say, "Yes, yes, you're absolutely right, dear!"
Once the kids had finished washing up and gone to bed, Clara walked over to the kitchen where Lester was rubbing ointment on his face.
"Tomorrow you're coming with me to Riverbend Village. We're buying tiles."
The countryside night was pitch dark—no lamps, no moonlight. The sudden sound of someone behind him made Lester jump, nearly jabbing the ointment up his own nose.
He whipped around in panic. Seeing that it was Clara, he let out a long breath and smiled ingratiatingly. "Wife, could you please not sneak up on people like that? Nearly gave me a heart attack."
Clara didn't bother responding—just said her piece and walked away without even sparing him a glance.
Lester let out a small disgruntled huff at her retreating back, but his thoughts quickly turned to tomorrow's lunch.
If both of them were going out, who'd cook for the folks helping out with the housework?
Luckily, Clara had already made arrangements. When she'd gone to the village earlier to buy timber, she'd also dropped by the old house and asked Doreen to help prepare lunch for the workers.
Though Doreen hadn't interacted much with Clara, she'd never gotten the short end of the stick in their past dealings. So she agreed readily.
The next morning.
After choking down Lester's bland and rubbery dough drop soup, Clara set aside food for lunch and placed it on the stove. She gave Adam and Ben instructions, reminded them to lock the main house, and then grabbed her dagger to head off to Riverbend Village.
Lester has always been someone who can't stay idle, and staying in the village these days has made him restless.
So even though he had to go out with Clara the "shrew," he couldn't stop himself from feeling excited.
Maybe it was because, despite his awful cooking, Clara hadn't really punished him these past few days.
Lester got bolder—and chattier.
"Wife, why do you always carry that broken dagger?"
"Wife, someone as naturally beautiful as you shouldn't be carrying a thing like that—it totally ruins your vibe."
Clara ignored him.
"Wife, I heard from the kids that last time you went into the mountains, you took down a black bear! You must've made a lot from selling it, right? Like… maybe a hundred taels?"
"But hey, that's on me. If it weren't for my debts, you wouldn't have had to risk your life in the mountains..."
Clara still said nothing.
After an hour of nonstop chatter, Clara finally lost patience and shot him a glare. "Can't you shut your mouth for once?"
Lester immediately clamped his lips shut.
The bruises on his face had mostly faded, leaving only a faint greenish tinge. His hair was messily tied up with a charred twig, the rest hanging down lazily. He looked like a total delinquent—carefree, unserious, and somehow still smug.
But not the kind of smug that was confident or dangerous.
More like… clueless and delusional.
The kind of guy who thought he was God's gift to women.
"Let me guess—people always say you're good-looking, don't they?" Clara asked.
Lester beamed. "Wife, how'd you know?"
Had she finally come around and decided to treat him better?
Clara scoffed. "They're just setting you up to fail."
Lester: "…"
"Hurry up," Clara snapped.
Lester trailed behind her with a look of quiet indignation.
She's totally jealous, he thought. Jealous of his looks!
Then Clara suddenly turned to him and pointed at his face. "Why did Billy Lin only hit you in the face? What exactly did you do while you were gone?"
Old Martha had said the folks over there were ruthless, making people work off debts in the mines. But if that were the case, there was no reason for Lester to come back with his face looking like a pig's head.
Caught off guard, Lester stiffened and said evasively, "They were just jealous of my handsome face."
Turns out his face attracted a lot of attention—girls and young wives in the mines would sneak him food. Even the supervisor's wife assigned him easier tasks.
So, naturally, the other men lost it.
Worried that their women were being charmed, they kicked him out of the mines entirely.
Poor guy—he didn't even do anything! Just chatted and joked around a little, got a few giggles, and boom—exiled.
Men could be more vicious than women when they got jealous!
Thinking of this, Lester spat into the bushes with a loud "ptooey," as if cursing all those ugly mine men.
Clara eyed him suspiciously. "You sure you didn't do anything?"
Lester really did have a good face—but his personality was so lacking, it was hard to imagine anyone being that obsessed.
"Of course I'm sure!" he said proudly.
Clara twitched her lips. Fine. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt.
While they talked, they arrived at Riverbend Village.
Lester, suddenly full of energy, took the initiative to ask the villagers for directions to the tile kiln, eagerly leading Clara over once he knew the way.
Funny how motivated he suddenly was. He never acted like this when it came to cooking.
Sure enough, the moment they arrived and saw the charming kiln boss lady, Clara understood everything.
Lester's mouth instantly began spewing sweet nothings like they were free. "Little sister-in-law," he called her repeatedly, voice dripping with flattery.
The boss lady looked ready to scold him for being rude—until she got a good look at him. Her expression softened instantly, even blushing a little.
Then Lester dared to reach out, clearly trying to touch her hand.
Clara's slap came fast and fierce.
Smack!
The sharp crack of her palm striking his hand echoed through the air. Everyone around flinched at the sound.
Lester clutched his rapidly swelling hand, blinking back tears of pain.
He silently shuffled behind Clara, gazing up at the sky and breathing deeply.
(End of Chapter)