I System 06

Fang Zhiyi couldn't bear to watch any longer and hinted, "Cornus."

Wen Yan froze. "Cornus?" After a moment, she brightened. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"In the era before chili peppers were introduced, cornus could serve as a substitute," Fang Zhiyi said, observing Wen Yan's excitement with mixed feelings. If she managed to survive in ancient times, it was probably thanks to her sheer lack of brains.

Wen Yan began frequenting the mountains and actually succeeded in finding cornus.

Fang Zhiyi stopped slacking off and started teaching her how to identify medicinal herbs.

"You’re not some kind of medical system, are you?" Wen Yan muttered, examining the herbs in her hand.

Worse than that—I’m not even your system.

Wen Yan didn’t pay attention to whether he responded, humming a tune as she headed home. She had fully adapted to life here. Admittedly, it was a bit dull, but it wasn’t without its challenges.

Passing by a mountain spring, Fang Zhiyi suddenly spoke up. "Why not try a waterwheel for irrigation?"

Wen Yan hesitated, scratching her head. "But I don’t know how to make one." She had skipped that lesson.

"Well, we’ve got nothing better to do. Might as well give it a shot," Fang Zhiyi said.

Wen Yan considered it and then jogged down the mountain.

To her surprise, Zhang the Carpenter understood what she was describing after just a rough sketch and an explanation of the principle. It seemed the ancients weren’t so dim after all.

Now, her improved farming tools were even being sold in other regions. When the blacksmith mentioned that people were copying her designs, Wen Yan was furious and wanted to sue. Fang Zhiyi talked her out of it.

"Ancient times don’t have patent laws. Try to let it go."

Fang Zhiyi still enjoyed observing the female lead’s business ventures.

Sun Yuwei’s clothing store featured trendy designs—so trendy, in fact, that they included lotus sleeves, horse-face skirts, and even dresses. To keep up with demand, she had hired quite a few workers.

Fang Zhiyi browsed her shop with interest and quickly figured it out. Before her transmigration, Sun Yuwei had been a live-streaming hostess, so she must have owned a wide variety of outfits. Her familiarity with fashion was practically a specialty.

But just as Fang Zhiyi was marveling at this, a group of aggressive men stormed into the shop and began smashing things without explanation.

Sun Yuwei screamed for the authorities but didn’t dare intervene. Fortunately, passersby reported the incident.

Even when the constables arrived, the men didn’t stop.

Once things finally calmed down, the head constable glared at the troublemakers and demanded, "Why did you wreck this shop?"

The leader threw down a garment. "Look at this! She sold this kind of clothing to my wife!"

Fang Zhiyi leaned in for a closer look—it was a perfectly normal outfit.

Sun Yuwei straightened up defiantly. "What’s wrong with it? I wear the same thing! What’s the problem?"

The man’s eyes bulged. "What’s the problem? The arms and chest are practically exposed! Even the ankles aren’t covered! If you, a painted woman, want to wear it, fine! But why sell it to my wife? She must’ve lost her mind to buy it!"

Sun Yuwei didn’t immediately grasp what "painted woman" meant.

"This outfit is completely normal! Your wife thought it was pretty when she bought it! Look at the design, the embroidery!"

The constable’s expression darkened. After a pause, he said, "Regardless, wrecking someone’s shop is wrong. You owe compensation."

The man angrily tossed down a few silver fragments and jabbed a finger at Sun Yuwei. "You just wait! If you keep selling this filth, I’ll be back!"

The constable gave Sun Yuwei a long look but ultimately said nothing, shaking his head as he left.

From that day on, her shop still had customers—but they were all heavily made-up women.

Sun Yuwei didn’t think much of it until one of her employees quit in distress.

"What’s wrong?" she asked gently. This girl had been obedient, and Sun Yuwei was reluctant to see her go. Business hadn’t met expectations, and many had already left—this was the last one she’d kept.

The girl flushed. "My family won’t let me work here anymore."

"Why? Is the pay not enough?"

The girl shook her head. Just then, another customer entered. The girl glanced over and whispered, "Boss, you shouldn’t keep doing this kind of business." Then she fled, red-faced.

Sun Yuwei was baffled.

"In ancient times, even a sleeve brushing bare skin was considered indecent. Too idealistic," Fang Zhiyi mused, clicking his tongue. His presence had brought "reality" crashing down on them.

When Sun Yuwei finally learned what "painted woman" meant and realized her clientele now consisted entirely of courtesans, she was livid.

Her son, whom she’d sent to school, began distancing himself from her. Only her youngest confessed that his classmates mocked him, saying his mother was a painted woman, and refused to play with him.

Sun Yuwei gnashed her teeth in fury and shut down the shop.

She refused to believe it.

Was surviving in ancient times really this hard? Impossible! She had a spiritual spring space!

By the time millet harvest season arrived, the villagers finally noticed—Wen Yan’s family’s fields yielded far more than theirs. So her composting method actually worked!

Wen Yan, however, was preoccupied. While villagers saved leftover grains for seeds, she meticulously selected the plumpest, most abundant ones to cultivate next season.

Fang Zhiyi, his skin bronzed from the sun, stood behind her, watching. After a while, it dawned on him, and he hurried off to his own fields.

Wen Yan exhaled in relief once he was gone.

"When will we ever have gender equality and no more arranged marriages?" she grumbled.

Fang Zhiyi chuckled. "Even in your time, arranged marriages still existed. And gender equality? That wasn’t achieved until recently, was it?"

Wen Yan thought about it—he was right.

"Achieving equality takes many factors—social progress, cultural evolution. But throughout history, many great women have earned respect. So don’t lose heart."

Wen Yan smirked. "You know, for a useless system, you sure spout a lot of grand speeches."

"Less talk, more work. After this, we’re making tofu!"

At the mention of tofu, Wen Yan’s eyes lit up.

"Cornus with tofu!"

Fang Zhiyi wasn’t entirely sure if that combination might be lethal.

Over the next few days, Fang Zhiyi kept appearing by Wen Yan’s side—helping harvest millet, drying it, making tofu. Wen Yan’s parents were all smiles, but she herself wore a scowl.

Fang Zhiyi was puzzled. Given Wen Yan’s attitude, how had they ended up together in the original storyline?

What Wen Yan didn’t expect was the sudden recognition. Her composting method was reported to the county, and officials came to commend her. After inspecting her bountiful millet harvest, they nodded approvingly, recorded the results, and even gave her a small monetary reward. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep her happy for a while.