Greenfield County sits on the border of north and south, where winters are uncomfortably cold without central heating. The local diet reflects both northern and southern influences, and the family’s meals often consisted of sweet potato paired with sweet potatoes and fried eggs.
Scarlett opened her trunk to find something to wear and was met with a surprise.
Inside the trunk, she discovered a bundle of small bills wrapped in a handkerchief—a total of 18 dollars and 30 cents, which turned out to be the original owner’s secret stash.
At the bottom of the trunk were several letters, boldly and passionately written… They were from Walter Janson. Forcing herself to suppress her disgust, Scarlett read through them once and chuckled. This man had once openly professed his love to “Whitaker Scarlett.” Whitaker Rosalie’s manipulation was indeed masterful. Scarlett initially thought of burning the letters but then decided to stash them back in the trunk. Who knew when they might come in handy?
Just as she shut the trunk, Michael came into the room.
“Aunt, Scarlett is awake!”
Michael was very attached to Scarlett. Even though the original Scarlett had a rather bad temper, her good looks were hard to ignore!
Children don’t care about physical beauty standards; their perceptions are pure and straightforward. To Michael, his cousin Scarlett was simply beautiful—even when she was angry.
Scarlett hadn’t spent much time around kids before, but with her mental age far beyond 18, she found Michael’s adorableness irresistible.
Touching his forehead, Scarlett smiled, “Your forehead isn’t hot anymore. Looks like the fever is gone.”
Michael, still acting silly, felt that Scarlett was so gentle with him. He trailed behind her like a shadow. Whether Scarlett was washing her face or combing her hair, Michael followed closely. Taking a bite of his bun, he looked at Scarlett and asked, “Does your head still hurt… Scarlett, you’re so pretty!”
Yes, so pretty.
After tidying herself up—braiding her hair into two plaits and changing into a clean outfit without patches—Scarlett couldn’t help but agree that she looked almost excessively beautiful.
Once she was ready, Scarlett led Michael to the kitchen.
Elizabeth seemed to have returned to her usual self, though her inner thoughts remained a mystery.
“Breakfast will be ready soon. Your uncle and aunt went to check on the rice fields. They’ll start harvesting in a couple of days.”
As she spoke, William’s voice echoed from outside:
“Sweet potato?”
He took off his straw hat and hung it on the wall. Seeing Scarlett, he smiled, “You’re awake? I told your mom not to wake you—you need to rest and recover. The village next door caught a wild boar, and your aunt went to buy some meat.”
Meat wasn’t common in rural households, especially outside of festivals or celebrations.
Michael was practically drooling at the thought.
Scarlett, naturally, felt touched.
William had always been generous despite his own poverty. Now that he was earning a bit more, he was even looser with his spending. With the rice harvest approaching, William had no plans to travel, so his bicycle was free to use.
“Do you know how to ride it?”
Scarlett nodded. She had ridden such old-fashioned bicycles before. Though not sleek in design, they were sturdy and practical, capable of carrying heavy loads. Originally designed for military transport, they could handle rough terrain and carry hundreds of pounds of goods and people.
William’s idea was for Scarlett to use the bicycle to start selling eggs.
If she could establish a business during the busy farming season, great. If not, William would come up with another solution.
Amanda soon returned with two pounds of meat and a bone for soup. The meat had a three-finger-thick layer of glistening fat. In these times, people didn’t favor lean meat; their bodies craved the richness of fat. Fatty meat was the most sought-after. Amanda was quite pleased with her haul.
The family gathered around the table for a meal, and Amanda’s mood improved further as she overheard Scarlett and William seriously discussing business details.
“How will you transport the eggs to the city without breaking them on the bumpy roads?” Amanda asked.
In 1983, rural areas didn’t have widespread paved roads. Forget cement or asphalt—getting to town on a bicycle meant a bone-jarring ride. While people could endure the bumps, the eggs wouldn’t survive. If even 10 out of 100 eggs broke, Scarlett wouldn’t make a profit.
Scarlett had been pondering this issue since yesterday.
In modern times, long-distance egg transportation was done with egg cartons and smooth roads, but those weren’t options here. Without access to plastic egg trays, Scarlett had to find an alternative.
“We can weave small baskets out of reed ropes, each sized to hold one egg, and string them together,” Scarlett explained.
Stuffing the gaps with chopped straw or wheat stalks could serve as makeshift shock absorbers, like foam padding.
Elizabeth’s excitement grew. “I can weave them! Just show me how.”
