Chapter 48: Chinu, she's definitely not some yellow‑haired thing!

The autumn sky was clear and the day warm, the wind fresh and the clouds thin.

The sun hung in the southeast corner, beyond the distant mountains' outline, beyond the hillside where half the wild grass had turned yellow, and fell upon an ordinary mountain village.

The village was not large, with twenty or thirty households scattered along both banks of a river whose bottom could be seen clearly.

Along the riverbank, every half li stood a mill.

Zhangpu Village stretched two li, so there were three mills in this place.

One was downstream, two upstream, all sharing the same layout——

Earthen walls, thatched roofs, with a groove on the river side; water from the river passed through, turning the stone millwheel inside.

The water made a splashing sound, the rumble of the turning millstones also splashed, mixed together, audible from far away.

Inside the mill it was busy beyond description.

In the first mill, there were more than ten shared millstones, each with five or six people lined up beside it, some carrying sacks, some bearing baskets.

Beside one millstone stood an old woman holding a winnowing basket, waiting to receive the flour.

At her feet squatted a half-grown child clutching a coarse porcelain bowl filled with fresh soy milk given by the soy‑milk grinder next door, still steaming.

In the corner, a young daughter‑in‑law squatted on the ground, pouring millet from a sack into a basket and picking out the sand.

Everyone was occupied.

Outside the second mill, people continually arrived to deliver goods, sack after sack of mountain produce brought from the hills, each weighed and paid for on the spot, never in arrears.

After taking the sacks, two men would each open one: one split a sack of mountain goods, poured the acorns into a stone mortar, while the other lifted a wooden mallet and swung hard to crack the acorns' shells.

The acorns emitted a series of cracking sounds; immediately someone would pick up the kernels, and another would leach them with the master‑prepared lime‑water ratio, then toss them into the millstone.

The acorns rattled down, the millstone turned with the motion, and ground flour poured out from the gap.

When the flour emerged, most was set aside; half was mixed with other flour, kneaded into strips, cooked over high heat into fragrant noodles, then sent to the third mill.

The third mill was special: it was the only one located on the gentle downstream stretch, with few millstones and insufficient power.

Passersby could faintly hear the clack of stones inside, yet this mill was not open to outsiders.

Everyone who wanted to buy something waited outside this mill.

A middle‑aged man in a blue‑cloth jacket pushed a single‑wheel cart loaded with several sacks of grain.

He unloaded the sacks and shouted toward the interior of the mill:

"Is Du Shanü here? I've brought grain, half to exchange for your lime water, half for ready‑made noodles... I came late today; are there any noodles left? That stuff's in demand, so don't — "

Someone inside the mill answered at once, but it was a somewhat childish voice:

"Yes yes yes, sister just went to rest a moment ago; I'll get it for you!"

The three mills, chattering back and forth, bustling, each lively in its own way.

The millstones creaked, the water splashed, voices hummed, all blending together.

Not far from these three mills, an old willow tree leaned slantwise on the riverbank.

Under the tree stood a person.

A...... young lady.

She was about sixteen or seventeen, wearing a pale blue‑gray fine‑cloth dress, the fabric half‑old but washed clean, a moon‑white apron tied at her waist, her hair coiled into a bun and fastened with a plain silver pin.

She leaned against the trunk, one leg slightly bent, toe touching the ground.

She held a grass root between her teeth, freshly plucked from the riverbank, still damp.

She didn't chew it, just held it there, occasionally nudging it with the tip of her tongue to the other side, always squinting her eyes toward the mill.

Over there people came and went, some shouldering sacks, some carrying baskets, some holding bowls, some cradling children, jostling together.

The millstones turned, the water sounded, speech, laughter, shouts drifted over in a hum.

She just watched, the corners of her mouth curved, relaxed and carefree, forming a naturally indulgent, lazy demeanor.

Sunlight filtered through the willow leaves, dappling her face with bright and dim spots.

She didn't avoid it, just let herself bask.

Someone passed by her, carrying two sacks of grain on a shoulder pole that creaked.

She shifted aside to let him pass, then leaned back against the tree, the grass root now on the other side.

This intolerable laziness continued until a voice exploded from not far behind——

"Hurry hurry hurry, Chinu is coming! Chinu is coming!!!"

Du Shanü jumped, spat out the grass root from her mouth, was about to step forward when she realized something was wrong, turned her head, saw only one person, and gritted her teeth:

"Yan, I think you really deserve a beating."

Not far behind, there was no sign of Chinu's gaunt voice—only Ouyang Yan himself.

Ouyang Yan rolled his eyes in a most alluring way:

"Everyone's toiling away in the mills, yet you, the host, are lounging—who else should I scare if not you?"

Exactly, to scare.

It sounds odd, but in this household the one who can hold the scene together is Du Shanü, yet the person everyone fears most is actually Chinu.

As long as you don't cross her bottom line, Du Shanü's temperament is mostly fine; at least she can speak properly.

But Chinu......

Du Shanü has never in her life encountered someone so arrogant and domineering.

Not only does a whole household tiptoe around Chinu, but even Du Shanü hears her name and worries.

Back when the family lived in a thatched hut, there was only one bed; if someone got injured and claimed it, well, they claimed it......

A few days ago the family's airtight earthen fort was finally finished; with a room each, no more crowding—she could finally pull Yu Baobao behind closed doors to chat, maybe talk about love?

The result: she had just stepped into the main house, hadn't even caught her breath, had just touched Yu Baobao's little hand—not even reached the wrist—when Chinu threw herself in front of Yu Baobao.

Fine.

The biggest main house is given to Chinu!

She took Yu Baobao and shifted positions, but after switching rooms, they not only followed her, they insisted on lying right between the two of them!

Lie! In! Between! Them!

What the heck is this!

They're just a lovebirds chatting about love!!!

Then came endless guerrilla skirmishes; wherever she took Yu Baobao, a Chinu would inevitably appear at her side.

The moment she touches Yu Baobao, the little stone in Chinu's hand appears on her head!

Sometimes she genuinely wonders if Chinu and Yu Baobao are... best friends.

After all, trying to talk a love‑obsessed friend into breaking up is every true best friend's lifelong mission, right?

Du Shanü was extremely worried, she grabbed another grass root and put it in her mouth to chew:

"Garlic bird garlic bird, he wants to protect Yu Baobao, I understand......"

Ouyang Yan heard it, his expression twisted inexplicably for a moment; he gave Du Shanü a strange look, but ultimately said nothing more.

Du Shanü couldn't be bothered to look at his hesitant demeanor, she asked:

"What do you want with me?"

Ouyang Yan answered quickly this time:

"As for supplies, these past ten or so days we've gathered little silver but a lot of grain."

"Even the folks from several nearby counties have heard that we have a free grain‑grinding mill here, so they started bringing grain to grind and trade; now the mill together with our cellar means we have nearly a hundred shi of grain on hand..."

"Seeing the grain keep increasing, are we just going to keep stockpiling it like this?"

"?? Xiao Ai: Nunu ah! She's not some yellow-haired! She promised me that after she and I sleep together, she'll marry me!"

"? Chinu: (forehead veins bulging. jpg)"