There were simply too many things the house lacked—everything from needles and thread, pots and bowls, and oil lamps, to larger items like tables, chairs, benches, and beds. Clothes, quilts, rice, flour—you name it, they didn't have it. Everything had to be bought.
Clara made a full sweep through the entire Willowridge county town, buying everything they needed.
100 kilograms of polished rice, 25kg of fine flour, 12.5kg of soybeans, and 12.5kg of millet—a total of 150kg of grain. That would be more than enough for her and the four kids to get through the next four months and safely make it through winter.
This polished rice, fine flour, and millet were more than twice the price of rough grains, costing her four taels and eight silver coins.
Of course, the main reason was Clara's own appetite—she could eat for five. In another household, 150 kg of grain made into porridge could easily last more than half a year.
Don't ask why she didn't just save money and buy the rougher grain.
Because she simply couldn't swallow it down.
So-called "brown rice" was more like rice bran. Only about 40% of it was actual rice; the rest was all husk. The coarse flour was the same—almost half was wheat husk. Anything made with it stuck to your throat and made swallowing a chore.
Even in the apocalypse, where resources were desperately scarce, people's diets were very different from ancient times. If someone was poor enough that they couldn't eat, it meant really couldn't eat.
But once you had access to food, it was either long-shelf-life stuff like instant noodles and crackers, or actual grains grown in agricultural bases.
Rice bran had long vanished from the modern human diet.
So, let alone coarse grains—even modern whole grains, marketed as health food, were barely edible to most people.
Since she could afford it, Clara wasn't going to deprive her stomach. Not eating well was worse than being chased by mutant zombies.
After buying the grain, Clara went to the fabric shop and bought three thick cotton quilts, each weighing 2.5 kg, three lighter blankets, and three palm-fiber mats.
She also bought 1 kg of loose cotton, a bolt of the cheapest plain white cotton fabric, one in blue, and another in rough red.
The red was to make new clothes for the New Year. All the kids took after their father in appearance—well-featured and good-looking. If dressed up properly, they'd be eye-catching for sure.
Each bolt was about fifteen meters long and 1.2 meters wide. That was enough to make two outfits per person for the five of them, with fabric to spare.
Clara didn't know how to make clothes at all, so after buying thread and needles, she planned to find someone back home to help sew them.
The shop also sold ready-made clothes, most of them second-hand, probably from pawnshops.
Clara, seeing how reasonably priced they were—and glancing down at her own dirt-covered, unpresentable hemp robe—decisively picked out a set that fit her, and also got each of the four kids a set.
Everyone also got a pair of shoes. Clara's were leather boots; the children's were coarse cloth shoes, all gently used.
Hers fit fine, but the children's shoes were all off-size. Common folk were used to frugality, so sizes tended to run large.
But kids grow fast. With thick socks and insoles, the shoes would do for now.
She also bought socks, insoles, headscarves, and hairbands.
Altogether, this batch cost her ten taels of silver.
When it came time to pay, Clara sucked in a sharp breath—this fabric was expensive! No wonder everyone just bought the raw materials and sewed clothes at home.
After leaving the fabric shop, Clara headed to the general store and picked up the daily essentials—oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, as well as pots, bowls, and other kitchenware.
However, she couldn't find any shops that sold ready-made furniture. Only carpenters offering custom work. That would have to wait until they got back to the village, where she could find a local woodworker.
With everything purchased, Clara rented an ox-cart under the North Gate for thirty copper coins. With the cart driver's help, they loaded up all the grain and goods and set off for Liew Clan Village.
The ox-cart was piled high with goods—no room to sit. Clara walked alongside the driver.
The road from Willowridge County Town to Goldstone Town was an official highway. The weather was clear today, and the road was in decent condition.
As they walked, Clara took stock of the silver she had left.
All these goods had cost her eighteen taels. She now had sixty-seven taels and three silver coins remaining.
She planned to set aside fifty taels untouched for emergencies. With the remaining seventeen taels, she intended to have a few decent pieces of furniture made, repair the broken thatched hut, reinforce the walls, build two more rooms, and add a small washing area and a kitchen. She also wanted to build a proper courtyard wall.
That wall was a top priority. Without it, they had zero privacy. She'd always worry about people sneaking in to steal things.
And a wall would also help keep out wild animals that came down from the mountains during winter looking for food. It'd give them a bit more peace of mind while sleeping.
Next would be repairing the main structure. That thatched roof, which could be blown off with a gust of wind, had to go. She needed sturdy, waterproof tiles.
But to lay tiles, the roof beams and walls would have to be reinforced too.
Clara only had a half-understanding of these things. She decided she'd ask the folks at the Liew ancestral home when the time came.
She'd seen how Old Walter Liew and his sons handled the roof repairs—they were clearly capable.
Clara could also tell that the folks back at the old house didn't trust Lester one bit.
And maybe it was true what they said—that the squeaky wheel gets the grease. Old Walter did seem a little partial to Lester.
That slight favoritism might've gone unnoticed even by Old Walter himself.
As Clara did her accounting and imagined herself sleeping this winter in a sturdy house with a spacious, warm bed, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Even her steps became lighter and faster.
The cart driver couldn't keep up and had to call out for her to slow down. Only then did Clara snap out of her daydream and ease her pace.
She had eaten and slept well the night before. Now dressed in clean clothes and sturdy leather boots, she looked completely refreshed—no longer haggard, but lively and alert. With her bow on her back and a blade in her hand, she gave off the air of a wandering swordswoman.
The cart driver wasn't much of a talker, but Clara was curious about the local area. She chatted with him on and off along the way.
That's how she learned that Willowridge County still had remnants of the old dynasty—rebels turned mountain bandits who often raided the common folk.
The local government was useless, and wealthy merchants and landowners suffered bitterly under this constant threat.
Clara frowned when she heard this. She couldn't help worrying about the full load of goods she was hauling.
Sensing her concern, the cart driver finally spoke up: "Don't worry, miss. Our little remote area isn't worth their time."
He added, "Those bandits prefer the next town over here—it connects directly to the prefectural city, with merchant convoys passing through all the time. That's where the money is."
"But still, if you're traveling alone, it's best to be cautious."
He'd heard of many decent women being kidnapped and taken up the mountains, only to suffer unimaginable torment and humiliation at the hands of the bandits. His reminder was well-meaning.
"Thanks for the warning. I'll be careful," Clara nodded at him in appreciation. She would definitely stay alert.
It seemed the security in ancient times wasn't much better than the apocalypse.
The rest of their journey went relatively smoothly, other than the cart wheels getting stuck a few times. But with Clara there to give it a push, they got through easily enough. By sundown, they arrived at Liew Clan Village without incident.
Clara was already missing her four little ones, eager to get home.
But as soon as they entered the village, she could feel something in the air—a strange, tense atmosphere.
(End of Chapter)