Transmigrated into a minor official in a county government, with children at home waiting for rice t

Qingge'er stood in front of the roasted chestnut stall and refused to leave.

Zhang Sanlang took out ten coins and bought three bunches, wrapped them in dried lotus leaves and handed them to him, telling him to be careful of the heat.

Qingge carried the lotus leaf bundle, peeling chestnuts as he walked, tucking the shells into his clothes and stuffing the chestnut meat into his mouth, his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel's. Ximei followed behind, occasionally taking a chestnut from his hand.

Upon arriving at the seafood market, a row of wooden basins was laid out, with vendors squatting behind them calling out their wares.

A large river crab costs twenty coins, while a smaller one costs ten coins.

Zhang Sanlang circled around a few wooden basins, about to squat down and pick out a few river crabs, when he suddenly heard someone sighing beside him.

A dark-skinned, thin man squatted in front of a basin of small crabs, looking distressed and muttering to himself, "It's been an hour and no one has bought any. Another day's work for nothing."

The basin was half full of small river crabs, their shells still bluish-green and their legs still hard.

Zhang Sanlang squatted down, flipped over the crab shells, smelled them, and asked how much they cost.

The dark-skinned, thin man looked at him and then at the crabs, saying that these were all small crabs caught from the river, too small for anyone to buy. He said that even after displaying them for an hour, no one wanted them at two coins a pound.

He was worried about how to take it back; he couldn't possibly turn it back into the river after such a long journey.

"Weigh me," Zhang Sanlang said, standing up.

"what?"

"Let me see how many pounds it is, I'll take them all."

The dark-skinned, thin man quickly borrowed the scale from the fishmonger next door and weighed himself; it was twenty jin (approximately 10 kg).

Zhang Sanlang counted out forty copper coins from his satchel and placed them in his palm.

The dark-skinned, thin man took the money, then looked at the bowl of small crabs. He probably thought he had met a fool. He was still a little uneasy with the money in his hand. He brought the bowl over to him and gave it away, since it wasn't worth much anyway.

Qingge stared at the crabs in the wooden basin and asked him why he bought so many small crabs, since people say that such small crabs don't have much meat.

Zhang Sanlang patted his little head without explaining further.

As Zhang Sanlang passed by the butcher shop, he stopped again. The butcher was chopping bones behind the chopping board.

Several rows of pork were laid out on the table, the fat glistening with oil, the lean meat a rosy color, the ribs stacked to one side, and next to them a large wooden basin piled with offal such as pig lungs, pig intestines, and pig skin.

Zhang Sanlang pointed to the fatty meat and asked the price. The butcher quoted the price without looking up: fatty meat forty coins per catty, ribs thirty coins, lean meat twenty-five coins, offal ten coins, and pig skin five coins.

Qingge'er's eyes were fixed on that row of fat meat, his chin resting on the table, drool almost dripping down.

Zhang Sanlang asked for two catties of fatty meat to render lard, and also asked for four catties of pig skin.

happy Mei tugged at Zhang Sanlang's sleeve, leaned closer and whispered, "Father, why did you buy so much meat today? Fatty meat costs forty coins a pound, and you even bought two pounds."

"Today is the Mid-Autumn Festival. You all work so hard usually, so I'll cook a few extra dishes tonight." Zhang Sanlang put the meat into the bamboo basket.

Qingge stood on tiptoe and peered into the basket. "Dad, I want some meat. I'll get it for you."

Zhang Sanlang handed him the bag of pigskin.

Qingge took it with both hands and held it in his arms.

The pigskin felt cool and refreshing. He rested his chin on the oil paper package and walked for most of the street without getting tired.

After taking a few steps, he would bend down and sniff the raw meat, his nostrils flaring and his lips glistening.

happy Mei was worried that he was too young and would get tired, so after a while she reached out to take it, saying, "Let me help you carry it for a bit."

Qingge stepped aside, clutching the oil paper package to his chest and shouting, "Father told me to get the meat!"

The old women at the market nearby glanced at him, and he blushed, puffed out his chest, and glared back at them, clutching the oil paper package even tighter.

I also bought some seasonal fruits and dried fruits and snacks. Pomegranates cost three coins each, pears cost two coins per pound, and I also bought some red dates and dried hawthorns. In total, I spent another twenty coins.

Adding the forty coins for the crabs and the hundred coins for the meat, she had spent a total of one hundred and seventy coins. happy Mei was counting on her fingers, her face contorted with pain.

They wandered around for an hour and a half before finally returning home laden with purchases.

On their way back from the main street, the father and his two daughters, Qingge ran after the old woman selling candied hawthorns. Zhang Sanlang took out his money and bought two strings of candied hawthorns, one for Qingge and one for Ximei.

Xi Mei took a bite and then put it to Zhang Sanlang's mouth so he could have a taste too.

The sugar cracked in my mouth, and the sweet and sour hawthorn juice flowed down my throat.

Qing Ge'er offered him another chestnut, and Zhang Sanlang lowered his head, put it in his mouth, chewed it a couple of times, and swallowed it.

Three people were walking down the street, each carrying something for the festival that night.

When we returned to the old house, the courtyard was quiet, and everyone was inside preparing for the festival.

Zhang Sanlang put the crab basin he had been carrying all the way down by the stove, and only then did he have a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, when someone knocked on the door.

Qing-ge ran to open the door.

An elderly couple stood at the door; they were my uncle Zhang Shi'an and his wife.

The old woman carried a bamboo basket, covered with coarse linen, and the fragrance wafted out through the gaps in the cloth.

Zhang Shi'an stood behind her, rubbing his hands together. When he saw Zhang Sanlang come out, he quickly stepped forward and smiled apologetically, "Sanlang, I've come today to apologize to you."

"A few days ago, I went to town to sell vegetables and ran into my brother on the street. He asked me a few questions about the ancestral land. I couldn't keep my mouth shut and just blurted it out. I'm really bad at lying, so I just answered whatever he asked, and only regretted it afterward."

His wife, with a smile, handed him the bamboo basket, saying, "It's the Mid-Autumn Festival, and these are homemade mooncakes. They're not anything fancy, just a bit thinner than the ones sold in shops. Qing-ge, Xi-mei, quickly take them and try them."

Zhang Sanlang didn't care; he understood the other party's intentions as soon as he saw them.

His original intention was to use Zhang Shi'an to inform Zhang's father about the ancestral land, so that he could get the old contract back as soon as possible. Now that the matter has been settled, it doesn't matter whether Zhang Shi'an leaked the message or intentionally informed on him.

He accepted the mooncakes and let Ximei take them inside. He forced a smile and said, "Uncle Jiu, what's past is past. The land rent will remain the same. Just send the grain to the old house after the autumn harvest."

"There's only one thing." Zhang Sanlang paused, his expression slightly stern. "Uncle Jiu is renting my land on one hand and relaying messages to Old Man Zhang on the other. He's taking care of both, which is too much of a burden for him."

"From now on, just focus on farming and paying rent. You don't need to worry about things over there anymore. If Old Zhang asks again, just say that the land matters are all on my end and pass the buck to me."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Shi'an broke out in a fine sweat.

Good guy.

He calls his own father "Zhang Weng" all the time, and doesn't even call him "Dad" anymore.

This severance of ties is truly thorough; he is no longer the same Sanlang who was once at the mercy of his cousins.

He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and repeatedly agreed, "Of course, of course. Don't worry, Director Zhang, from now on I'll only be responsible for planting and paying rent in the fields, I don't know anything else."

"If my brother asks again, I'll just say that it's all decided by the post office, and I'm just a farmer who doesn't know anything."

Zhang Sanlang nodded and smiled with satisfaction. He turned around and instructed Ximei to go to the stove and pack a handful of roasted chestnuts. He then handed them to Zhang Shi'an's wife, saying, "Ninth Aunt, bring some for your grandchildren to try. It's Mid-Autumn Festival."

She declined twice before finally accepting it.