The night the soap was finally made, a heavy rain fell.
Half-awake and chilled by the sudden cold, Clara curled deeper into the warm quilt, silently grateful she hadn't hung the soap under the corridor eaves.
If she had, all three days of hard work would've been wasted in a single storm.
The downpour lasted through the night and tapered off by dawn, becoming a light, steady drizzle. There was no sign of clearing.
As the saying goes, "Each autumn rain brings a fresh chill." When Clara pushed open the door that morning, she immediately felt the full weight of those words.
Mid-September had already passed.
Today was the fifteenth—the day to distribute last month's wages to the factory workers.
After a warm breakfast at home, Clara changed into a thick cotton robe, grabbed her account book and silver, and headed to the workshop.
She hadn't been by in over half a month, but with Carpenter Liew overseeing things, the manufacturing yard continued running like clockwork.
The moment the workers caught sight of the ledger tucked under Clara's arm, the gloom of the rainy day seemed to lift from their faces—excitement replacing the dreariness.
Clara first found Carpenter Liew and reviewed the accounts from the past two weeks. Then she pulled out a draft sheet and began calculating wages for each worker.
By the end of the day, just before work let out, all wages had been distributed. The workshop was awash with cheer.
The workers, clutching their pay, departed one after another. Clara and Carpenter Liew stayed behind to settle a few final matters before locking up and heading home.
With payday just passed, every household in the village added something extra to their meals. As Clara made her way back through the village, the smell of freshly cooked dishes wafted through the air, teasing her appetite. She quickened her pace.
Back home, Adam had already prepared dinner. When he saw Clara return, he immediately called everyone to the table.
Perhaps it was the celebratory mood that had spread through the village, but even their simple family meal felt especially satisfying.
But just as they were all basking in that contentment, the village alarm bell suddenly rang.
The five of them, freshly finished with dinner, stiffened all at once.
"What's going on?" Clara murmured, frowning.
The four children looked equally confused—they had no idea.
"I'll go check." Clara told them to stay put, grabbed her bamboo rain hat, and rushed out.
On the road, she ran into Old Walter Liew and Brandon Liew. The three exchanged worried glances and hastened toward the ancestral hall.
The village alarm bell was rarely used. Important notices usually warranted gongs and criers moving from house to house.
The last time the bell rang was during the bandit raid.
And in earlier times, the ringing of that bell had always meant one thing: a new round of conscription or corvée labor.
Just when everyone had started to enjoy a brief peace under the Sheng Empire, they were reminded—the Empire had only reduced taxes and labor levies, not abolished them.
A moment ago, villagers were joyfully adding meat to their dinner after collecting wages.
The next moment, they were gathering in the ancestral hall under the drizzle, expressions grim, eyes trained on the village chief holding the household registry.
With a heavy sigh, the chief began to read out the newly received order.
"The northern barbarians have invaded again—war has broken out at the border. Jadebriar Province has issued a decree: each county under its jurisdiction must urgently gather three thousand civilian laborers to transport rations to the front lines."
"Each household: for every four males between twelve and fifty, two must go. For three or fewer, one. Only-sons are exempt. The situation is urgent—discuss among yourselves tonight. Report back at the hour of the dragon tomorrow. Departure in three days."
When he finished, the chief opened the registry and began calling names—listing how many men each household had and how many they had to send.
When he got to the old Liew residence, it was four eligible males—two must go.
Before Clara had time to gauge Old Walter or Brandon's reaction, her own household was up next.
"One eligible male in Lester Liew's household. One must go."
"Four in Frank Liew's household. Two must go."
Each name called brought heads bowing in dread.
The drizzle drummed on, a steady patter pressing on their hearts, leaving the air thick with tension.
Of all the corvée duties, grain transport was one of the most dreaded.
Slightly better than active military service, it was still part of military logistics—meaning it didn't require combat, but wasn't safe either.
What made it truly deadly was the military's strict delivery deadlines. Fail to deliver rations in full and on time, and at best, the offender would be executed. At worst, their entire family might be implicated.
After reading out the list, the chief sighed heavily again.
His own household had five eligible men—two had to go. Without scholarly titles, no commoner could escape corvée obligations.
But he had secured a few options for relief.
He raised his voice, rallying the crowd:
"The county has thirty-five prisoners. For six taels of silver, one can buy a substitute laborer. First come, first served! If you've got the silver, act fast!"
These thirty-five names came from the prisoners awaiting execution after the bandit purge.
If the decree had come any later, they wouldn't even have that option.
Just hearing the price—six taels—drew gasps from the villagers.
Still, for those who could manage it, even if it meant selling everything, they were determined to try.
Money lost could be earned again.
But a lost life? That was gone forever.
Old Walter and Brandon Liew clenched their fists and rushed home to scrape together every coin.
Thankfully, this year had seen a good harvest. Without that, they'd never be able to gather twelve taels in time. At least one of them would've had to go.
With Kate due to give birth any day, the second son couldn't be spared.
Logan was still a child—what good would he be on such a dangerous road? If something happened to him out there… they didn't dare imagine.
That left only Old Walter or Brandon. One of them would have to go.
They could only be thankful the harvest had given them the means.
But with only thirty-five exemption slots and three thousand laborers needed, time was tight. Every second counted.
As the two turned to leave the ancestral hall, Brandon suddenly remembered Clara. He ran back in to grab her.
"Just six taels, sister-in-law! Don't hesitate—hurry and give it to the village chief, or Lester will be the one going. That's a death sentence!"
With that, he rushed back home with Old Walter.
The two assumed Clara would understand the stakes and race home to fetch silver for Lester's exemption.
They didn't know—Clara wasn't the least bit anxious.
Instead, a cold smile curled on her lips.
Lester Liew… Let's see if you can worm your way out of this one.
"Mama!"
From the base of the hill, Deb spotted Clara's silhouette and called out.
Clara waved. "Back inside—it's still raining!"
But Deb didn't budge. She waited until Clara arrived and then tugged at her sleeve, following her in.
The little girl looked up at her, worry written all over her face. "Mama, did something bad happen?"
Adam and the boys glanced over, tense.
Clara shook the rain off her hat and smiled, "Nothing bad. The officials are just asking for help delivering army rations to the border—so the soldiers fighting those barbarians can eat."
Chad and Deb both exhaled in relief.
"Oh… so that's what it is!"
(End of Chapter)
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