Chapter 239: Adding a Layer to the Raft

Granny Rong poured clear water into two large basins, added salt, and stirred them.

As soon as the sheep was bled, she brought the basins over. The steaming hot sheep’s blood flowed into the bowls as she stirred each one with a hand, mixing them evenly.

Then she set them aside to rest undisturbed.

She took away all the offal, followed by the legs, ribs, head, and hide…

Luo Sanlian didn’t even get a moment to admire the fruits of his labor.

In the blink of an eye, nothing remained but bloodstains on the ground.

Yan Lao’er chuckled awkwardly. “Hey, Luo San, your knife work’s improved again—real clean job.”

Luo San: You bet. My blade’s extra sharp—I spent half the day honing it.

Wait a second—something felt off.

He turned to Yan Lao’er. “Yan Lao’er, where’s my sheep head?”

Yan Lao’er had asked him to slaughter the sheep, and they’d agreed the head would be his. So where the hell had it gone?

“Haha, well, I figured you might not clean it properly, so I’ll bring it over to your place in a bit.”

He’d forgotten to tell Granny Rong that the head was promised to Luo San.

Damn! Granny Rong’s hands were faster than his words.

“Alright then, I’ll head home and wait.”

Luo San packed up his tools and left.

Yan Lao’er had planned to pay him, but Luo San flat-out refused. In the end, the conversation wandered from sheep offal to sheep faces.

Luo San had never tried it before, and the novelty piqued his interest. He figured he’d take the sheep head, skin the face, and cook it the way Yan Lao’er had.

Yan Lao’er went into the kitchen and explained, and Granny Rong nodded her understanding and started processing the sheep’s head.

He volunteered to wash the offal at the river, so Granny Rong handed him the big basins.

Yan Yu helped carry over a basket of plant ash, along with two small wooden stools.

Father and daughter headed for the river. It was quiet—most folks in the village were napping at this hour.

Yan Lao’er expertly pulled out a cloth mask and put it on. Yan Yu followed suit.

The two of them began scrubbing with the ash, slow but effective.

“What do you think’s best for tying the logs together?” Yan Lao’er asked his daughter.

“Besides hemp rope, we don’t have anything else,” Yan Yu replied, a bit helpless. Materials were limited—they had to make do.

“Will that hold up? It won’t last long soaked in water.”

“I know, but we’re not spending our lives on the river. If it gives out, we’ll just replace it. Sure, it’s a hassle, but it’s cheap.”

Yan Lao’er nodded in agreement. Cheap—that alone made it worth it. What more could they ask for?

“Dad, I’ve been thinking. We should raise the raft a bit,” she said, pointing at the river. “Once we put it on the water, with the two of us and our supplies, the raft’s gonna sink lower. If it’s higher, it’ll keep the grain and medicine from getting wet.”

“Add a layer, then. Easy.”

Yan Lao’er was brimming with confidence. He might not know many crafts, but this he could do.

“The frame should be bamboo—it’s lighter,” Yan Yu added. “And we’ll need extra tarps to cover the top.”

Yan Lao’er said, “The frame’s simple. Remember when someone in the village made bamboo beds? We can find one the right size, borrow or buy it, and use it as-is. But will that frame hold everything?”

“We’ll test it when the time comes,” Yan Yu muttered. “Honestly, building a boat’s not that hard. The simplest wooden boats don’t have complicated structures. If we experiment a bit, we’ll get it. The tricky part is the waterproofing—ancient waterproof lacquer takes ages. One layer at a time, and each one has to dry before the next… takes forever.”

Yan Lao’er wasn’t fazed. “So what? We just apply it layer by layer.”

“Let’s do both then. Once the raft wears out, maybe the boat’ll be ready.”

Yan Yu found that quite reasonable.

“Alright, let’s do both. I’ll draw up the design, and you can show it to Uncle Qi Wu. I think it’ll work—he can definitely build it. Boats aren’t that different from coffins, right? Same basic shape.” Yan Yu had complete faith in Uncle Qi Wu.

Waterwheels might be complicated, but boats? Just three panels. A coffin without a lid—it’s a perfect match.

“Dad, let’s not invite Uncle Qi Si and Uncle Qi Wu over for hot pot. Just make a big pot of sheep offal soup and bring it to them.”

She felt bad always bothering the uncles.

They couldn’t afford to serve meat, but sheep offal soup was delicious too—a humble token of thanks.

Father and daughter carefully scrubbed the offal clean and headed home. Yan Lao’er made a huge pot of soup.

While the soup was cooking, they sat down to do the accounts.

Mainly, they had to calculate Qi Family’s share of the profits from the scented soap.

Yan Yu waited for her father to name the split.

After some internal struggle, Yan Lao’er finally said, “Same as with the charcoal.”

“Got it!” Yan Yu replied cheerfully.

With the ratio settled, the silver was easily tallied.

They’d made quite a profit from the scented soap—over a hundred taels. At 25%, nearly thirty taels were owed to the Qi Family.

When Yan Lao’er saw the figure—twenty-nine taels and two qian and five—he thought about rounding it up, but Yan Yu stopped him.

“Fair is fair. We’ve got plenty of small change at home,” she insisted.

Yan Lao’er had no choice but to relent.

They started counting the money right there in the kitchen.

“This pile’s from the Lord—for buying medicine.” Yan Lao’er pushed a stack of silver ingots to the side.

Before he could react, the rest had already been scooped toward Yan Yu.

She counted out twenty taels, then picked out a few bits of broken silver by weight, and added 180 copper coins.

“This should be it. If you don’t trust me, use the scale,” she said casually.

Yan Lao’er: …

Almost fell for it.

Too bad your old man knows his stuff.

He broke up the bits of silver, picked out new ones, and added 420 copper coins.

He raised an eyebrow at his daughter.

How about that?

Yan Yu just curled her lip.

Father and daughter—neither better than the other. Neither had quite mastered gauging weight by hand. Yan Yu relied on sharp eyes and memory for size; Yan Lao’er relied on a deep familiarity with exactly how much silver he had in his pockets…

Li Xuemei stood at the kitchen door watching for a while. That father and daughter pair did have their flashes of brilliance now and then, but more often than not, their ideas were so childish it was laughable.

Even counting silver could keep them entertained for half a day.

…

Qi Wu didn’t go anywhere today. As soon as he woke up, he got busy working on the doors and windows for the Yan family.

Cabinets and tables could wait. The house was almost finished—how could it not have doors and windows?

Qi Si returned with Yan Lao’er from Crouching Tiger City. When they saw Qi Wu working alone, they rolled up their sleeves and joined in.

Qi Da had gone out early in the morning to check on their fields, so he missed the group heading up into the mountains. But he wasn’t worried—he grabbed a stick and wandered through the hills on his own. Sometimes, luck just couldn’t be stopped. He spotted a ball of fur and instinctively hurled his stick.

Walking over for a closer look—ha!—he’d killed a rabbit.

By noon, he was back home, already busy with it.

In his hands, the rabbit was like a toy, flipping it this way and that.

He was figuring out how to keep the pelt as intact as possible—wanted to make his mother a furry knee wrap.

As soon as Yan Lao’er stepped into the courtyard, the three brothers looked up in unison.

Seeing him walking in, holding a pot and trying to keep his expression steady, they immediately dropped what they were doing and ran over in big strides.

(End of chapter)