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

As dawn broke, Ximei was already up.

She squatted down in front of the earthen stove under the eaves to start a fire, and used a poker to stir the charcoal fragments that she had buried in the ashes the night before.

A spark ignited, and the dry grass sparked a flame.

Three ladles of water were poured into the iron pot.

When the water boiled, she grabbed a small handful of pickled radish from the jar her mother had brought yesterday, chopped it up, and sprinkled it into the boiling water. She also poured half a bowl of millet into the pot. There was no meat, no oil, just a tiny bit of salt the size of a fingernail.

Qingge'er came out of the east wing rubbing his eyes, squatted by the stove and brought his hand close to the fire door, "Sister, what are we having for dinner today?"

"Millet porridge. And the maltose that Sister Yun gave me yesterday, I can have a piece to sweeten my mouth today."

Qingge took the candy and stuffed it into his mouth, his cheeks puffing out. He mumbled, "Why isn't Dad up yet? Aren't we going to the yamen today?"

"Yes. Dad said he's off today and will take us out later."

About half an hour later, Zhang Sanlang came out of the house yawning and bent down to wash his face.

happy Mei served three bowls of porridge and then shredded the pickled radish and placed it on a plate.

Zhang Sanlang picked up the bowl and took a couple of bites with his chopsticks.

The porridge was very thin, with millet grains sinking to the bottom of the bowl, countable by the grain. He scooped some of the thicker porridge from the bottom into Ximei'er's bowl, and Ximei'er noticed, then quietly scooped some into Qingge'er's bowl as well. Neither father nor daughter spoke.

After breakfast, Ximei cleaned up the dishes.

Zhang Sanlang rummaged through the wooden box and pulled out two money bags, then poured out all the copper coins and counted them.

There were 124 coins in the small purse.

It's what was left over before the move; after deducting moving expenses, this is all that's left.

The large money bag contained the 880 cash I had received in advance for next month's allowance yesterday.

There were a total of 1,004 coins, just over one string of cash.

He counted out five hundred coins and put them in his satchel, then locked the rest back in the wooden box, and led the two children out of the yard.

The alleyway in the old houses in the east of the city is very narrow. The morning sunlight has not yet shone in, and the bluestone slabs are wet, damp from last night.

There was a pancake shop at the entrance of the alley. The oven was already lit, and steam was rising from the oven. The aroma of sesame mixed with the fragrance of dough wafted through most of the alley.

Qingge grabbed Zhang Sanlang's clothes, his eyes fixed on the stove, his stomach rumbling louder than when he was drinking porridge at home.

Zhang Sanlang sighed and led him over. The man selling steamed buns was an old man in his early fifties, Wu, whose apron was covered in flour as he kneaded dough on the cutting board.

"Uncle Wu, how much are these flatbreads?"

"Two coins each. Freshly baked, Sanlang came at just the right time."

Zhang Sanlang counted out six copper coins from his sleeve and placed them on the table. "Three."

Old Man Wu lifted the oven lid, used iron tongs to take out three steaming hot flatbreads, placed them on dried lotus leaves, and handed them over.

The flatbread has a golden-brown crust with sesame seeds embedded in it. When you bite into it, a burst of white steam comes out, so hot that your tongue can't be pulled back in.

Qingge held the sesame seeds in both hands, blew on them several times before daring to take the first bite. Sesame seeds stuck to the corners of his mouth, and he wiped them off with the back of his hand several times, afraid they would fall to the ground.

happy Mei also ate carefully, tearing off small pieces and leaving the piece with the most sesame seeds for her younger brother.

After finishing the flatbread, we continued walking.

Turning out of the alley leads to the main street, which is more than twice as wide as the alley, and shops on both sides are gradually opening their doors.

The cloth shop assistant removed the door panels, the bamboo trays for drying medicine were lined up in front of the pharmacy, and the signboard of the general store swayed slightly in the wind.

The streets gradually became more crowded with people carrying loads, pushing carts, and carrying baskets, a stark contrast to the deserted street near the government office.

happy Mei held Qing Ge'er's hand, her eyes glancing at the roadside stalls from time to time.

An old woman selling candied hawthorns passed by, carrying a straw target. The hawthorns, coated in a translucent sugar coating, glistened in the sunlight. happy Mei glanced at them, then looked down at the road again.

Zhang Sanlang saw this but didn't stop to buy candied hawthorns. A skewer of candied hawthorns cost five coins, which was too expensive.

He turned into a general store on the side of the street. There was an old wooden plaque hanging at the door with the words "Song's General Store" written on it.

The shopkeeper, surnamed Song, was in his forties and sported a goatee. Upon seeing Zhang Sanlang enter, he paused slightly, then greeted him with a broad smile, "Isn't this Zhang Tiesi? A rare guest indeed! It's been quite a while since we last met."

Zhang Sanlang nodded, took out a folded piece of paper from his sleeve, unfolded it, and placed it on the counter. "Manager Song, please pick out the items. Forty sheets of paper mulberry bark for window coverings, five dou of millet, one dou of wheat flour, two jin of official salt, and two jin of vegetable oil as well."

Manager Song glanced at the list, then turned around and took something from the shelf.

The window paper was placed on the left side of the counter, the rice bag was carried to the right, the flour bag was placed next to the rice bag, the salt was wrapped in straw paper, the oil drum was inserted into the oil vat and lifted out, and the bamboo tube was poured into the funnel, and the aroma of oil wafted up.

The abacus beads clicked and clattered for a while. "Window paper: eighty coins; millet: five dou: three hundred coins; flour: one dou: one hundred coins; salt: two jin: eighty coins; vegetable oil: two jin: forty coins. The total is..." He moved the abacus beads a couple more times, "exactly six hundred coins."

Zhang Sanlang blushed slightly and did not immediately take out his money.

He looked at Manager Song and casually asked, "Manager Song, when did you receive this batch of salt?"

Shopkeeper Song paused for a moment, his abacus beads clicking. "Just last month. Why?"

"Last month." Zhang Sanlang tapped his fingers lightly on the counter. "The household registration department checked the salt tax at the end of last month."

Shopkeeper Song's smile faded slightly, and his eyes became wary. "Officer of Postings, what do you mean by that?"

"It doesn't mean anything." Zhang Sanlang pushed the form in front of him. "After the salt tax is approved, the next batch of salt permits will not be issued until after the autumn tax."

"The quantity and tax amount for this batch are all recorded in the inventory. When the salt permits are issued, we'll compare them with the tax records, and any underreporting will need to be made up."

Manager Song stroked his goatee and looked at Zhang Sanlang.

The original owner, Zhang Tiesi, was so tongue-tied that his mouth was like a sawed-off gourd. Every time he came to buy something, he would just put down the money, take it, and leave without saying another word.

The poster clerk standing in front of him today hit the nail on the head with every word he uttered.

He hesitated for a moment, then lowered his voice: "Officer of Postings, what do you think about this matter of paying back taxes? Is it accurate?"

Whether it's accurate or not depends on who knows first.

Manager Song pondered these words for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

He pushed the abacus aside, picked up the bill again, and said, "These things total six hundred coins today. I'll charge you three hundred coins, and the rest is a small favor for you to have some tea."

Zhang Sanlang slowly counted out three hundred copper coins and placed them on the counter. "Manager Song's scales are reliable, and the goods are excellent. I'll go back and ask the neighbors in the courtyard, and tell them to come and buy from you in the future."

Shopkeeper Song smiled upon hearing this and swept the copper coins into the money box. "It is my good fortune that the Zhang Post Office takes care of my small shop."

He glanced at the goods piled on the counter. "These things are quite heavy; Zhang Tiesi probably can't carry them all by himself. Is your residence still in the usual place? I'll have a clerk deliver them."

"They moved to Kujing Lane in the east of the city yesterday. It's the east wing of the Zhang family's old residence."

Manager Song shouted towards the backyard, "Awang! Take these to the Zhang family's old residence in Kujing Lane. Be careful with the goods from Zhang Tiesi!"