I System 07

Wen Yan was currently consumed by thoughts of making money. She had saved every penny earned from improving farming tools and selling crispy rice cakes.

Fang Zhiyi saw right through her: "Planning to run away?"

Wen Yan scoffed: "What else? Get married? In the prime of my life? No way!"

Fang Zhiyi sighed helplessly: "Where would you even go? Ancient times had strict household registration checks. Unless you hide in the mountains or turn bandit, there’s no escape."

Wen Yan fell silent.

After a long pause, she muttered: "Then what can I do?"

Her voice was heavy with resignation.

Fang Zhiyi suddenly asked: "Why not just talk to him directly?"

"Talk? You know how unreasonable men in ancient times are! We’re not even married yet, and he acts like I’m his property, showing up every day!"

Fang Zhiyi waited for her outburst to finish before asking: "What about your father?"

Wen Yan froze, recalling how Wen's Father secretly stashed away his savings.

"In this era, most people fit the same mold, but exceptions exist. I think you should talk to him first." He paused. "If it doesn’t work, I’ll help you."

Wen Yan’s eyes lit up: "Really?"

"Really."

Half an hour later, Wen Yan was rolling her eyes at the man across from her, who merely nodded silently no matter what she said.

"It didn’t work. Now what?" she grumbled at Fang Zhiyi, her tone more petulant than angry.

"I thought it went well."

"How?!"

"With that temper of yours, he didn’t even frown. Isn’t that good enough? You told him not to follow you, and look—he left."

Wen Yan turned and saw the retreating figure.

"Hmph. Good riddance."

A few days later, the "waterwheel" was completed. Villagers flocked to see it, leaving the carpenter and Wen Yan swamped. Between one providing ideas and the other experimenting, they couldn’t piece together a proper blueprint—especially under the watchful eyes of the crowd. Even Wen Yan felt nervous.

"Let me help."

At the familiar voice, Wen Yan turned to see that stoic face. She pressed her lips together but handed him a wooden piece without a word.

To her surprise, her fiancé seemed naturally skilled with structural work. Soon, it was the carpenter and Wen Yan passing parts to Fang Zhiyi.

Once fully assembled, he even used a hatchet to smooth out uneven sections.

"Release the water!" Wen Yan shouted. Wen's Father, waiting above, responded loudly.

The rushing current set the waterwheel in motion. As the soil gradually moistened, the villagers gaped in awe.

News of the irrigation method spread again, and officials from the county arrived. This time, a middle-aged man with a mustache merely glanced at it and nodded: "A noria. Well made." After a few perfunctory praises, he left.

Wen Yan was disappointed. No reward?

Fang Zhiyi remarked: "These exist elsewhere. They’re just uncommon here. Did you think you’d patented it?"

Wen Yan snorted and retreated to the kitchen to fiddle with her pickled vegetables. She had added zanthoxylum, creating a peculiar taste that initially repelled Wen's Father and Wen's Mother—though they eventually grew fond of it.

But when Wen Yan confidently brought the zanthoxylum pickles to the market, they sold poorly.

"People in ancient times are slow to accept unfamiliar flavors," Fang Zhiyi said. Wen Yan stayed silent, and he assumed she was discouraged again.

Instead, she was staring at a nearby stall selling roasted wheat gluten, her eyes gleaming strangely.

"Wait—what are you planning?" Fang Zhiyi found himself struggling to keep up with this time-traveler’s thoughts.

"Finding opportunities." That night, Wen Yan began kneading wheat flour into dough, shaping it like rice cakes. But without baking powder or milk, and with the era’s coarse milling tools leaving husks in the flour, the attempt failed.

Undeterred, she immediately started designing a sieve.

Fang Zhiyi almost pointed out that even with an early sieve, the refined flour output would be too scant to succeed. But then he noticed Wen Yan seeking help from that Fang Zhiyi, so he held his tongue.

"Young people should figure things out themselves," he muttered. "Wonder what the female lead is up to lately."

With the tailor shop closed, Sun Yuwei had lost her income. Though her spirit spring space allowed self-sufficiency, gossip about her family grew rampant. In an era with little entertainment, idle chatter was a pastime.

Given Sun Yuwei’s past reputation, some even whispered she was a secret prostitute—why else would she have money and plump, well-fed children?

Frustrated, Sun Yuwei nearly wanted to flaunt her spirit spring in their faces.

Hearing about Wen Yan’s achievements fueled her resentment. These ancients have no standards—praising compost, a waterwheel, and a few tools? The memory of her triumphant severance of ties with Wen’s family soured her mood further.

But she wasn’t one to admit defeat. After two days of scheming, she returned to the village with her children, partly to escape the rumors. However, in her zeal to make a statement, she overlooked her children’s growing aversion to school. Ostracized by peers, the older two had even begun resenting their mother.

At their age, rebellion was natural.

Sun Yuwei ordered the kids to clear unused land for farming. Though the season was wrong, her spirit spring made it irrelevant.

"Oh, Sister Sun is back?" a villager greeted.

Sun Yuwei forced a smile, her patience for these "simpletons" wearing thin.

"Farming now? Without compost?" The villager frowned. "That Wen girl from Linwater Village invented a composting method—works wonders." Then it dawned on him. "Ah, right… your sister-in-law. Why not ask her?"

Sun Yuwei’s face darkened. She glared before snapping: "Her methods? I’m using celestial fertilizer!"

The surrounding villagers turned.

"Celestial fertilizer?"

Sun Yuwei smirked. "Yes, celestial fertilizer!"

The villagers exchanged glances but stayed silent. As they walked away, whispers began:

"Have you noticed? Sister Sun looks younger lately."

"Like a nobleman’s daughter, really."

"Too bad she’s lost her mind. ‘Celestial fertilizer’? More like too proud to ask her sister-in-law."

"Ex-sister-in-law. They cut ties."