Wushuang had entered the supply shop with purpose, her gaze scanning the cluttered shelves of pens and paints.
She approached the counter with a list clutched in her hand. "I need a liner pen, a white cloud pen, and a shading pen. It doesn't need to be top-of-the-line; just the cheapest will do. Also, I need the minimum amount of each paint color and ten sheets of white paper—whatever's best for avoiding smudges."
The shopkeeper, a middle-aged man with a kind face, gave her a knowing nod as he busied himself with the items. As he packed everything neatly into a bundle, he looked up and asked, "Is someone in your family studying fine brushwork?"
Wushuang merely shrugged, her eyes distant as she replied, "Yes."
The clerk swiftly rang up the items. "That'll be eighty copper coins."
Wushuang winced at the total.
Eighty copper coins for this much? No wonder people can't afford to send their kids to school. She turned to Mrs. Bai, who was already fidgeting nervously.
The older woman's hands shook as she reached into her purse and pulled out the coins with visible reluctance. One by one, she counted them out, her face a mask of discomfort.
When they left the shop, Mrs. Bai's distress was palpable. "Yaya, are you sure you can make back this money?"
Wushuang clasped her mother's trembling hands and offered a reassuring smile. "Mom, I know it feels like a lot now, but to do good work, you need the right tools. Once I have these, I'll be able to make money quickly. Trust me, we'll be fine."
Mrs. Bai's worry eased slightly, though she still looked uneasy.
Wushuang led her mother down the bustling street, the cacophony of vendors and market-goers filling the air. They passed stalls overflowing with vibrant fabrics and noisy street performers. Wushuang's eyes darted around, searching for a suitable target.
Soon, she spotted a modest noodle shop wedged between a steamed bun stall and a dumpling restaurant. The shop's sign hung askew, and the few customers seated inside looked as if they were there more out of necessity than choice.
The aroma of simmering broth and sizzling pork wafted out, inviting but seemingly lost on the sparse crowd.
"Let's go in," Wushuang said, pulling Mrs. Bai inside. The savory scent was mouthwatering, promising something far better than the shop's grim appearance suggested.
They sat down, and Wushuang called out to the owner, a middle-aged man with a slightly worn but friendly face. "Two bowls of pork noodles, please."
Mrs. Bai tugged on Wushuang's sleeve, her voice a hushed whisper. "Yaya, the pork noodles are quite expensive. If you want noodles, we could just get a bowl of plain ones. I don't need any."
Wushuang leaned closer and whispered back, "Mom, don't worry. Just enjoy the meal. I promise that the money we spend will come back to us soon."
The owner nodded, and within moments, two steaming bowls of pork noodles were placed before them. The rich scent of the broth and the sight of tender, glistening meat made Wushuang's stomach rumble with hunger.
She pushed one bowl toward Mrs. Bai. "Eat up while it's hot."
Instead of joining her mother, Wushuang spread her drawing paper on the table and began mixing her paints. The vibrant hues of the pigments were soon blending into the right shades.
Nothing like a good bowl of noodles to inspire a painting. Let's see if I can turn this into a profitable venture.
As she worked, her brush danced across the paper, capturing the noodles' curls and the savory broth's sheen with swift, deliberate strokes. She focused on realism, letting the scene unfold before her eyes.
Speed is key. If I want to make a good impression, I need to get this right and fast.
When Wushuang finally set her brush down, she turned to find the owner standing by, looking at her work with keen interest.
His face lit up with excitement. "Girl, this is fantastic! Would you be able to draw a sign for my noodle shop?"
Wushuang's eyebrows lifted in surprise. This was an unexpected opportunity. Before she could respond, the owner continued, "I'll pay you two taels of silver for the sign."
Two taels! Wushuang's heart skipped a beat. She had only hoped for a modest payment, but this was much better.
Looks like my luck's changing.
She nodded eagerly. "Alright, but the sign can't be longer than six feet, and you'll need to provide the paint. I'll handle the painting."
"Of course!" The owner quickly took out a small ingot of silver and placed it on the table. "Here's one tael as a deposit. I'll get the paint and the sign right away."
With that, he hurried out, leaving Mrs. Bai staring at the silver with wide eyes.
"That's it! You've already earned a tael of silver!" Mrs. Bai's disbelief was evident as she looked at Wushuang.
Wushuang picked up the silver and handed it to her mother. "This is just the deposit. I'll get the second tael when the sign is finished."
Mrs. Bai's hands trembled as she carefully placed the silver into her purse. She secured it tightly and sighed with relief.
As Mrs. Bai admired Wushuang's painting, her eyes softened with pride. The bowl of noodles on the paper looked almost real, every detail captured with impressive accuracy.
"This painting is amazing! I'd be tempted to come here for noodles myself," Mrs. Bai said, her voice full of admiration.
Wushuang managed a smile, though she felt her work was still too mechanical.
Maybe one day I'll paint with the soul, not just the hand.
She hadn't eaten any of the noodles herself, having been focused on her painting. Noticing that Mrs. Bai hadn't touched her bowl, Wushuang turned to her. "Mom, you should eat. I can't finish two bowls. I want you to enjoy this."
Mrs. Bai had hesitated at first but finally picked up her chopsticks. As she took her first bite, tears welled up in her eyes. The noodles were not just food; they were a symbol of care and sacrifice.
She remembered the last time she had such a treat, when her late husband had secretly saved half a bowl of noodles for her, hidden from his mother's watchful eye.
The nostalgia, the love, it all came rushing back.
She had thought such days were gone forever. Now, her daughter had given her a moment of warmth and comfort she hadn't expected to feel again. Mrs. Bai wiped her tears away, savoring each bite with heartfelt appreciation.
Wushuang watched, her heart twisting with mixed emotions. Seeing Mrs. Bai's genuine gratitude was moving. Despite not being her biological mother, Mrs. Bai's love and sacrifice mirrored what she remembered from her own mother.
It's strange, being reborn and seeing things from this perspective. I need to remember what really matters.
As Mrs. Bai finished the noodles, she smiled through her tears. The simple meal had brought a moment of happiness and a reminder of the love that bound them together.
Wushuang realized that despite the differences between this world and her past one, some things remained constant: the bonds of family, the value of hard work, and the joy found in small victories.
Even if I'm not from here, I can still make a difference, one brushstroke at a time.
But the original owner forgot the mother who loved her so much that she was willing to give up her life for her.
Rebirth means you can choose when to be reborn.