When the two of them arrived at Mrs. Wen's house, she had already finished eating and lit the lamp.
"You are so late, I thought you two were unable to make better tofu and had run off," Mrs. Wen teased with a tug at the corner of her mouth.
"We figured that the beans need to be soaked for a long time, so we have come a bit late," Zhuang Qingning said with a smile, "Aunt, you should rest early, we will go and get busy. We will try to keep the noise down tonight, so as not to disturb your sleep."
"You two are not entirely foolish if you realise this much."
With a light tone, Mrs. Wen continued, "When you get old, every sleep feels light. If you are dropping and banging things in the background, I truly can't sleep. So, be a bit cautious not to disturb my sleep."
Having said that, Mrs. Wen returned to her room.
Zhuang Qingning went into the tofu workshop, fetched a strainer, scooped out some beans from the water tank, picked a few randomly, and checked the condition of the soaked beans.
The beans had swollen upon soaking water, they had grown in size, and every bean had entirely lost its hardness inside. This was a symbol of the beans being thoroughly soaked.
She called Zhuang Qingsui to bring the strainer and the basket to scoop up the beans, and Zhuang Qingning started the first step of tofu production, grinding into soy milk.
The beans were added to the stone mill through the holes. Upon turning the stone mill, the thick white soy milk gradually flowed out from the gaps in the stone mill, fell into the stone plate beneath the mill, gathered there, and flowed into a wooden barrel underneath through the holes on the edges.
Making soy milk was the most time-consuming and labor-intensive task. And in the past, when Mrs. Wen's family still had a tofu workshop, they had a donkey at home that did the laborious task of turning the stone mill.
Now that there were no animals to assist, Zhuang Qingning and Zhuang Qingsui had to grind the soaked beans into milk by themselves.
----
At this time, everyone in Zhuang Ruman's family was having dinner.
Having dinner at this time was considered late. The light of their oil lamp was not only dim but also consumed oil quickly.
This was why most farmers usually have dinner before dark, then they go to bed early. This practice allows them to start their day early the next morning, and it also saves some money that would otherwise be spent on oil or candles.
Mrs. Song originally did not want to consume the oil lamp's oil, but she had no choice.
There was more than ten acres of farmland in their house that needed tending. But to hoe over it once, took several days. At this time, they also had to spread chicken manure, water the fields, and there was simply too much work to be done.
There were also the vegetable plots. Right now was the time to plant cucumbers, mung beans and other crops. They didn't even have time to do this. If they delayed it anymore, they would miss the season, and there would be no vegetables to eat in the summer.
In the past, Zhuang Qingning and Zhuang Qingsui were like two old oxen. They worked tirelessly, ate little, and helped Mrs. Song to live a more relaxed life. But now, without these two, even if Zhuang Qinghe and Zhuang Yuanzhong were called upon, they wouldn't be as efficient nor productive. They could not get much work done.
After finishing the work in the fields, they had to hurry back to cook. In such a rush, they were inevitably a bit late for the meal.
"Be more efficient tomorrow, and don't have dinner this late. Do not waste the oil lamp." Zhuang Ruman slurped a mouthful of cornmeal porridge, said, "The lamp oil is not going to last, and the smell is also not pleasant."
"Yes. I understand." Mrs. Song nodded repeatedly, then turned towards Zhuang Qinghe, "Qinghe, come back early tomorrow and prepare dinner ahead of time."
"From what I see, you are not very productive in the fields, so you might as well come back early and cook. At least, I wouldn't have to worry about it once I get back."
Hearing this, Zhuang Qinghe frowned tightly.
In the field, she could slack off without being noticed due to the crowd. However, now that Mrs. Song had entrusted her with the task of cooking, wouldn't she have no opportunity to be lazy?
What's more, the smoke from cooking had dried her face, and her skin is no longer soft. Washing pots, doing dishes, and starting fires had roughened her fingers, making them unappealing.
Upon thinking about the possibility of becoming ugly because of this, Zhuang Qinghe immediately began to sulk.
"All this work used to be done by those two wretched girls. Why do I have to do it now?"
"Why on earth would you bring this up?" Mrs. Song immediately fell pale, quickly pinched Zhuang Qinghe to keep her silent, and cast a worried glance at Zhuang Ruman.
Since Zhuang Ruman came back from the village chief Zhuang Jingye's house in the morning, he had been angry all day, hardly looking at her.
Indeed, upon hearing that Zhuang Qingning had declared Zhuang Qingsui as part of her household, meaning, henceforth, they would have no relations with their family. She would no longer be able to verbally or physically punish them or order them to do chores. Not only Zhuang Ruman but also Mrs. Song was furious about it.
But she was not entitled to be angry. Zhuang Ruman had already scolded her thoroughly. He criticized her for being impatient and reckless in her actions on an average day. She had forced two good 'old oxen' to leave.
Mrs. Song knew that she had been wrong and had caused trouble. She dared not utter a word as Zhuang Ruman scolded and blamed her relentlessly.
It was only with great difficulty that they reached this moment when Zhuang Ruman, tired of scolding, chose to say no more about the matter as it couldn't be reversed now. All Mrs. Song hoped was for Zhuang Ruman to tame his anger and let the matter pass. But Zhuang Qinghe just had to bring it up unwisely.
Wasn't this adding fuel to the fire, making her feel even more annoyed and also upsetting Zhuang Ruman?
Originally, Zhuang Qinghe was unhappy about having to cook. Now, feeling the pain on her arm where she had been pinched, her anger flared, and she began to cry, "It's indeed the case, it's all your mother's fault. If it weren't for her forcing those two wretched girls away, why would I be the one doing all this work?"
"The more you say, the more absurd it gets!" Afraid, anxious, and angry that Zhuang Qinghe was not understanding her hints, Mrs. Song could only scold, "Why are you bringing up this issue? Can't you, as a grown girl, do some work?"
"Why can't the mistakes my mother made be mentioned? It is indeed her fault. If not for her, I wouldn't have to do so many chores, I wouldn't have to be this tired…" The more Zhuang Qinghe talked, the more aggrieved she felt, and her crying only intensified.
With snot and tears everywhere.
Mrs. Song was both pained and irritated by the sight.
"Bang!" The chopsticks in Zhuang Ruman's hands hit the table.
"Can't even have a peaceful meal, not one of you is useful. All you know is to cry, cry, cry. What are you crying for? Are you attending a funeral? I'm still alive!"
"If you can do the work, do it. If you can't do it, get out. I won't keep idlers at home!"
Following Zhuang Ruman's angry scolding, he stood up abruptly and went inside the house.
Left in the room were Mrs. Song, Zhuang Qinghe, and Zhuang Yuanzhong, none of them daring to breathe out loud.
Especially Zhuang Qinghe, she didn't dare to cry out loud, only suppressing sobs and wiping her tears.
"Look at you making your father angry. And you're still crying?" At this moment, Mrs. Song felt resentment towards Zhuang Qinghe. She reached out and tapped her on the forehead, "What nonsense are you carrying in your brain? Always bringing up the irrelevant matters."