Remember this taste.

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“What?” At the dining table, Jacqueline leapt to her feet with such force that she knocked over the water jug, soaking half her body. This farmer’s wife, just past forty but already gray-haired, was utterly stunned as she stared fixedly at Wu Qingchen, who was recounting his experience at the table. “You’re saying the steward has excused our family from this year’s summer labor?”

“Yes, that’s what Lord Barres said himself. This year, we don’t need to participate in the summer labor. And—”

“William!” Wu Qingchen hadn’t finished when his mother shouted, grabbing her husband’s arm tightly. Her eyes were wide, her brows lifted, and every wrinkle on her forehead shone with a conflicting light of disbelief and joy. “William, did you hear that? The lord said we’re excused from this year’s summer labor. No summer labor this year!”

“Hss… Yes, yes…” Clearly, Jacqueline was gripping with great strength; Old William grimaced in pain, hurriedly answering, “I heard, I heard… hss…”

“So that means, we don’t have to go to the lord’s land this year? We can tend to our own work? Is this true? For the summer labor this year, we can do our own work?”

“Hss… It’s true, it’s true! We can work however we want, whenever we want… but let go of my hand, I think it’s about to break! Hss…”

Shouting and shaking his arm, Old William’s twisted face still managed to reveal a smile, and his thin cheeks flushed with color.

“All right, all right… Mother, sit down first, you’re soaked—come, wring your clothes.” Idra, who had been sitting on the other side, finally got up to help, half pulling, half dragging, eventually seating Jacqueline back on her chair.

“Father, if we don’t have to work the lord’s land, does that mean we don’t have to pull the plow in the fields, or get up at night to cook peas?” Little Nina also came over, her dark-ringed eyes full of hope and anticipation.

“No, none of that! Haha, silly girl…” Old William laughed heartily. “Being excused from summer labor brings more than that. With all the time we save—over ten whole days—we can get so much done. Haven’t you always wanted to eat cabbage and lettuce? In a few days, we can tidy up the vegetable garden outside, build a fence, loosen the soil, fetch some dirt from the riverbank to enrich it, then borrow some seeds from Uncle Richard. In a month or two, by autumn at the latest, we’ll be harvesting…”

“And didn’t you always complain about the hens and goats running wild in the house, making a mess and stealing food? Without summer labor, we can ask the steward for some timber from the forest, then build a big, beautiful livestock shed beside the cottage. In the future, when you go to gather eggs or milk, you’ll have to visit next door… and then…”

“And we can…” Idra, still supporting her mother, interjected, her face glowing, “With all this extra time, we can harvest the hay we missed earlier, dry it properly while the weather’s good, and prepare more winter feed for your friends…”

“We can also fix up the house…” Grace pointed to the roof above her bed, where water was slowly dripping. “Patch up all those damned leaks!”

“We can weed the pea patch and the grassland…”

“Finally have time to repair the riverbank dikes…”

“Maybe even clear a bit of new land…”

“And maybe…”

Around the table, everyone spoke over each other, making plans for the precious days of unexpected freedom. The wooden cottage was filled with excitement and hope for the future.

Suddenly gaining half a month of free time—over ten days—was unimaginable happiness for a family of farmers accustomed to endless toil with barely a moment’s rest. Years of accumulated burdens, so heavy they threatened to crush them, now seemed to offer a glimmer of hope for relief.

Tending the vegetable garden, harvesting hay, weeding the wheat fields, repairing the dikes, clearing new land, building a livestock shed…

Their plans grew ever more ambitious, the atmosphere around the table more animated, everyone more excited—except for Old William, whose brow slowly furrowed.

“But with so much to do…” Suddenly, Old William tapped the table lightly. “I’m afraid there might not be enough time.”

The others fell silent, and Old William’s slightly worried voice echoed in the cottage. “After all, our cow just had an accident. Even with Little Los treating her, she won’t be able to work for several days. That’ll set us back, take some extra time… So we need to think carefully and prioritize the most important tasks.”

A sigh of regret swept through the cottage.

“Sigh… Yes, what a shame…” “We should harvest the hay first…” “Damn that herdsman!”

“It’s all right…” Wu Qingchen finally found a chance to interject. “The steward said the baron’s plow oxen—three of them—can still work the fields; they only have minor injuries. The farm officer asked me to treat them first, and we can also borrow them to plow our fields for three days…”

“What did you say?” “Borrow them?” “Is this for real?” “Three oxen!”

The freshly upright water jug was once again sent flying, along with two chairs that clattered to the floor. Grace, who had fallen from her chair, sat on the ground with her mouth agape. Old William, Jacqueline, and Idra all sprang to their feet at once, six eyes blazing with incredulity.

“Yes, these three oxen can be loaned to us for plowing…”

“Heavens! Something this important, and you only mention it now…”

Completely forgetting their earlier excitement over planning the free days, and how they hadn’t let Wu Qingchen get a word in edgewise, Old William didn’t rejoice—he began to panic, spinning in circles before grabbing Idra and Grace. “Idra, go east and find Wolf, Avilia, Tony, and Old Holt, see if anyone’s borrowed their plows yet…”

“Grace, you head south to find Richard, Freeman, Ildros, Krei, and Jilen—they’ve finished plowing, see if we can borrow a plow from them… Oh, it’s so late… we’re out of time, definitely too late… sigh…”

“No… no need to go.” Wu Qingchen hurriedly grabbed his two brothers. “Wait a minute, let me finish!”

“Lord Barres also said we could borrow three plows at the same time, and any other tools we need, as well as three days’ worth of fodder for the oxen. In short, we’ll have everything—we don’t need to worry!”

This time, Wu Qingchen rattled off the list in one breath, leaving no room for interruption.

“This… this… I…” Old William was dumbfounded by this string of surprises, unable to speak for a long while.

“…I must be losing my mind…”

Only after a long pause did Old William shake his head and smile. “…The steward, the farm officer—what manner of men are they? How could they make such mistakes…”

As he spoke, Old William gently patted Wu Qingchen’s shoulder. “Los, it’s clear the lords have high hopes for you. You must take good care of the village’s plow oxen… Yes… Tomorrow morning, go and tend to them. Then you should… you should…”

At this point, Old William faltered. He repeated “you should” several times, but couldn’t follow it with anything more.

Frowning and lost in thought, Old William suddenly chuckled at himself.

It was only now, as this middle-aged farmer, habitually trying to give his youngest son instructions but unable to think of anything specific, that he realized just how unnecessary it was.

What was there left to instruct?

When the herdsman stole their livestock, the family’s cow was injured, and the household fell into peril, with everyone at a loss; when they rushed to the fields at dawn, working like beasts in the mud until their bodies ached all over; when they ate cold food, braved storms, pulled the plow without a thought for the days ahead…

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Did he instruct Little Los to find the priest? To gather herbs? To treat the cow and solve the crisis at its root?

When the farm officer came looking for Los, asking him to treat the village’s other injured oxen…

Did he instruct Little Los to get the family excused from summer labor? To borrow the oxen? The plows? Even to get three days’ worth of fodder as well?

What was there to instruct?

Did he need to tell Little Los how to treat the oxen?

It was at this moment that Old William finally understood the last words that Pastor Praya had spoken before leaving.

Looking at his youngest son, who was tilting his head, waiting for more words, Old William’s expression was complicated.

“…It’s nothing. Go ahead and treat them.”

After a long pause, Old William finally shook his head gently, patting Wu Qingchen on the head with a faint smile. “Los, my son, I truly am fortunate.”

“All right, that’s enough for now. Idra, Grace, since there’s no need to borrow plows—come, come, everyone sit down…”

Calling his children to the table, Old William pointed to the pouch on the table. “…Let’s see what the farm officer gave our Little Los…”

This was the pouch the farm officer had tossed to Wu Qingchen. After the lords left, Old William had begun questioning Wu Qingchen about the night’s events and hadn’t had time to open it—it had lain on the table all this while.

“Let me see…” Wu Qingchen, curious as well, deftly untied the string at the mouth of the bag.

Fifty-two: Remember This Taste (Part Two)

“What’s this?” Once the strings were fully undone, Wu Qingchen opened the pouch and pressed down the mouth, placing it on the table. His family, leaning in, saw about a dozen pale yellow, palm-sized rectangular pieces, slightly rounded at the sides.

“What are those?” Grace frowned, glancing at Idra.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen them…” Idra shook his head, his face a mixture of curiosity and suspicion as he sniffed the air. “It does have a smell…”

“Really…” Grace sniffed as well, looked around, then back to the table. “…You’re right, there’s a scent…”

It was a faint aroma, with a light fragrance—quite pleasant, actually.

Wu Qingchen pressed gently on the top piece; its surface was soft, leaving a shallow indentation.

“Hey…” Finding it amusing, little Nina smiled and mimicked Wu Qingchen, reaching her right hand toward the open pouch.

“Don’t touch!”

Old William’s voice rang out.

The moment he saw the contents of the pouch, Old William’s eyes had widened. After a long moment, he snapped out of it and quickly grabbed Nina’s outstretched arm, pulling it back. “Don’t touch, don’t handle it like that!”

“Father, do you know what it is?”

“I do… How could I not… When did I last see this…”

Staring at the pieces in the pouch, Old William cautiously extended his hand, holding it a good half-arm’s length from the bag. His voice quivered with emotion. “Lord above… I never thought I’d see this again in my lifetime… Children, remember what’s before you—this is bread, the food of the lords…”

“Bread?” Little Nina looked puzzled. “Father, we’ve seen bread! Isn’t bread supposed to be black and hard? When we went to the summer prayers at the church last month, the priest gave each of us a piece…”

“This big…” She gestured the size of a fist, unconsciously licking her lips. “It tasted so good…”

“Yes, the bread given at the summer prayers is bread, but it’s only black bread… While this—” Old William pointed at the pouch. “This is real bread, the food of the lords—the most wonderful food in the world…”

The most wonderful food in the world…

“It smells so good…” Nina leaned closer, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

The most wonderful food in the world…

Idra and Grace moved closer, their eyes locked on the pieces in the pouch.

The most wonderful food in the world…

Wu Qingchen lowered his head and rolled his eyes involuntarily.

“All right, don’t crowd so close…” Old William turned to Wu Qingchen. “Los, how much do you want to eat?”

How much? Wu Qingchen frowned.

“Do you want some now? You’ve been up all night.”

He’d been too busy these days to hunt, and after rushing about all night, Wu Qingchen, at Old William’s reminder, felt the pangs of hunger and took a slice from the pouch.

“All right…” Seeing Wu Qingchen take only one, Old William swept his gaze around the room, his eyes lingering on his children. “Children, don’t tell anyone about this bread. Don’t cause any trouble.”

Old William’s warning was no exaggeration—in the medieval world, even moldy, tough black bread was a treasure. White bread was of immeasurable value; a piece turning up in a den of thieves could easily spark a bloody conflict.

“All right…” Picking up the string Wu Qingchen had left, Old William handed the pouch to Jacqueline. “Put it away carefully—there are a lot of mice…”

“What’s this?”

A moment later, as Jacqueline was tidying up the pouch, her expression changed. The others looked over and saw two small, shiny, coin-like discs in her palm.

“These… look like unused iron tokens…” Idra picked one up. “…No, not quite…”

“They’re not iron…” Old William picked up the other. “Iron isn’t this soft, nor this shiny…”

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“Maybe the lords have different iron!”

“What’s so different about the lords’ iron? Haven’t you seen the tools in the lord’s fields?”

“That’s for everyone’s use. The lords keep their own for themselves…”

“That’s true… I heard the lords even have spoons for eating… Maybe these are utensils too? Used to eat bread?”

“So round—how would you eat with them?”

A babble of speculation filled the cottage, the conversation growing ever more outlandish.

“They’re silver coins!”

When someone finally muttered, “Could this be food too?” and Grace, putting one in her mouth and biting down, Wu Qingchen could bear it no longer.

“Sler (silver coins)?” Old William repeated the unfamiliar word. “What’s a silver coin? And is it really edible?”

Wu Qingchen was speechless.

“No…” Wu Qingchen shook his head weakly.

He retrieved the two roughly-made, flat-edged, clearly hand-crafted silver coins from William and Grace.

The coins’ surfaces bore two lines of crude inscription. The top began with “Barony of Arkford,” followed by some symbols Wu Qingchen didn’t recognize, and the bottom line was all unreadable as well.

Whatever the symbols meant, Wu Qingchen could at least tell these were coins minted by the barony, likely for use within the domain.

In the medieval world, “never seen money” was no joke—it was reality. Most villagers would never see formal currency in a lifetime. Fines to the lord were paid in “bits,” and usually settled in goods instead.

“All right, enough guessing.” Wu Qingchen put the coins back in the pouch. “These must belong to the farm officer—he probably forgot them in the bag. I’ll return them tomorrow.”

“And… what’s going on?” Wu Qingchen looked curiously at Jacqueline, who, under William’s guidance, was tying up the pouch while scanning the room for a safe place to store it. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Us?” William looked even more puzzled. “Didn’t you hear the farm officer? This bread is for you, to feed you for the next few days. How could we eat it?”

He pointed to the family: Jacqueline, Idra, Grace—all wore the same natural expression, only little Nina swallowed a few times on the sly.

“Of course you can eat!” Wu Qingchen waved his hands. “It’s fine, let’s all eat together.”

“No! Absolutely not!” Before anyone else could respond, William shook his head vigorously. “Los, you’ll be treating the village’s oxen from tomorrow—you must eat well, you can’t afford any mistakes… This bread must be kept for you alone!”

“No, really, I can’t eat it all myself.”

“How could you not?” William seemed unconvinced. “Half a slice per meal—these will only last you… last you… last you…”

After a long and difficult calculation, he finally concluded, “just until five days after the next worship of the Lord!”

Five days after the next worship?!

Wu Qingchen glanced around the cottage: the blackened roof, the filthy floor, the moldy pillars…

In such conditions, with summer heat…

Father, please spare me!

In the medieval world, there was no concept of bacteria or viruses; villagers who could eat moldy black bread would hardly recognize the idea of “spoiled food”…

“Father, I really can’t finish it all myself… And treating the oxen will only take a few days; everyone should have some…”

“Just a few days… all eat…”

Who knows what memories these words stirred in William. Suddenly, the gray-haired farmer tilted his head back, his eyes unfocused, his hand trembling on the pouch. After a long while, he came to himself. “Los, you really want everyone to have some?”

Please, eat!

“Yes, Father.”

“All right, Los…” William finally calmed down. With a deep sigh, he untied the pouch again. “…This is your bread; you do have the right to decide.”

He carefully took out a slice, tore it into four, and shared it among Jacqueline, himself, and his three children.

“Father, you have some too.” Wu Qingchen tore his slice in half, offering part to William.

“No, I’m not hungry.” William waved it off repeatedly, but after several attempts, finally accepted, keeping only a tiny piece and resolutely stuffing the rest back into Wu Qingchen’s hand.

For a moment, the cottage was silent. Each of them, holding a tiny piece of bread, cautiously tore it into even smaller fragments, placing them gently in their mouths and holding them there, barely chewing.

Seeing this, Wu Qingchen sighed deeply.

He understood: pressed for time and exhausted from work, his family usually ate with wolfish haste, devouring their meals as if nothing could satisfy their hunger. Yet now, they moved with such care and slowness, only to make their small portion of white bread last as long as possible, to remember its rare and precious taste.

Watching his loved ones in this medieval world make such an effort to remember the taste of white bread, Wu Qingchen heaved a deep sigh.

Remember this taste.

He reminded himself.