My Emperor Father Can Read Minds

Mrs. Diao listened with a puzzled expression, but at the thought of last night’s delicious fish slice soup, she couldn’t help but feel a bit hopeful inside.

Before getting up, Chu Chaoyun muttered a couple of words to her. Mrs. Diao looked surprised, “You want that? I do have quite a few left, they’re under the footstool in my room. Feel free to take one.”

“Alright!”

Chu Chaoyun readily agreed, took one of the remaining buns, and cheerfully went down the wooden ladder.

Although Chu Chaoyun had grown closer to Mrs. Diao just after boarding the boat, several envious eyes were still fixed on them. Only after she left did they shove and push each other toward Mrs. Diao’s seat.

“Mrs. Diao, you and that Chaoyun girl weren’t acquainted before boarding, were you?”

Mrs. Diao was astonished: “Of course not, how could that be?”

The square-faced boatwoman forced a slight smile at these words: “Then why is she so warm toward you? We all came on board around the same time, looking out for each other is only natural. If you ever need help, just say so! No need to trouble Chaoyun every time, right?”

Mrs. Diao glanced sideways, then forced a smile: “That’s certain.”

The square-faced boatwoman nodded, then instinctively glanced at Mrs. Diao’s leg. Seeing Mrs. Diao completely indifferent, as if that small issue hadn’t affected her at all, she reluctantly walked away.

Mrs. Diao rolled her eyes, feeling somewhat displeased.

These people said they would look out for each other, but last time when she got off to deliver food to Chun Ye, none volunteered to help clean the private room. Instead, they whispered behind her back.

The burden in her heart was heavy; she had no mind to fuss about sisterhood with anyone but believed she owed no one.

Occasionally when there were leftover dumplings or when a boatwoman got hurt, she helped with work and even tried to find herbal remedies for them.

Mrs. Diao had a somewhat fiery temper before. If not for fearing these scheming women would cling to Chu Chaoyun, she might have taken the opportunity just now to ask them a few things.

Chu Chaoyun was unaware of the minor incident on the boat. She had just left Mrs. Diao’s room and was heading back to her own.

She was holding a sewing basket containing strips of cloth of varying lengths. The room still had some coarse branches and thin bamboo sticks from the kitchen last night. As she pushed the door open and just placed the basket inside, there was movement on the opposite side.

Chu Chaoyun turned and met Xu Xianghe’s eyes. Xu Xianghe was holding the door frame with one hand, looking somewhat in pain.

This woman seemed to have come to an understanding; her disheveled hair was neatly tied back, her clothes smoothed without wrinkles. Xu Xianghe shyly looked at her, sweating with embarrassment: “Miss, I…I want to go…”

Chu Chaoyun understood immediately—Xu Xianghe wanted to go to the latrine.

“Pass through this narrow passage to the wooden ladder; there’s a room at the stern of the boat.”

After giving directions, she went inside and closed the door.

With some rest time remaining, Chu Chaoyun sat on the bed and got busy.

Actually, catching fish was easier with nets — the most convenient method even in the modern world where many still use such techniques. But Chu Chaoyun didn’t have the tools to make a net, and besides, she didn’t need so many fish.

No storage meant the fish should be caught and eaten fresh each day.

She bent sturdy thin bamboo strips into a circle and tied them tightly. Then she picked some suitable cloth strips from the pile, considering not just length but also strength.

After finding some, she started sewing them onto the bamboo from different angles to fix both sides, weaving into a net shape. After securing the overlapping cloth parts, she tied the completed makeshift fishing net to a rough wooden branch to make a convenient handle.

Time was almost up. Not bothering to test the net’s sturdiness, Chu Chaoyun put down the needle and thread and hurriedly went to work.

Upon coming out, she heard that the cook girl was preparing a yam banquet today, baskets of yams being carried in piles onto the Flower Boat.

Chu Chaoyun dodged the laborers to avoid collisions, not watching her steps carefully. When she glanced back, she bumped straight into someone.

“Careful, sister—”

The word “sister” was just out when she quickly caught herself.

Chu Yu’s voice betrayed excitement, but perhaps being beaten these days had made him more cautious than before.

This was Chu Chaoyun’s first close contact with Chu Yu since boarding; she hurriedly looked back, her eyes involuntarily reddening.

Big Zhao was nearby supervising, leaving no time for them to catch up.

Fearing their lingering might attract managers’ attention, Chu Chaoyun stepped aside. Chu Yu silently carried the basket forward, his once-childish innocence somewhat gone.

But at only ten years old, his oversized robe and thin stature made his walk stagger slightly.

Seeing him like this made Chu Chaoyun a little sad. Even in the modern world, such stories would break one’s heart. Moreover, she occupied this body and became his biological sister.

“Be careful yourself, just endure it…”

She whispered low.

Chu Yu paused, seemingly understanding her meaning. But soon, the laborers behind urged him to walk faster.

After Chu Yu put down the basket and went ashore, Chu Chaoyun hurried to find Mrs. Diao.

Peeling yams was truly a headache. Without gloves, the yam sap touching the skin caused itchiness worse than mosquito bites.

Everyone seemed to know how troublesome it was; the boatwomen sitting at the stern working looked gloomy. Some had quickly peeled a few tubers and were already itching.

Mrs. Diao in the corner hadn’t gotten started. When Chu Chaoyun approached, she whispered, “Do you have any good way that won’t hurt the hands?”

Chu Chaoyun smiled upon hearing that, apparently Mrs. Diao considered her a think tank.

Not sure if gloves existed in this era, but even if they did, the managers wouldn’t provide them. Chu Chaoyun truly had no good idea. She had heard that soaking in vinegar or alcohol could prevent itching, but it was easy to guess no manager would allow that.

Chu Chaoyun fetched a large basin, filled it halfway with water, tossed in a few yams, and found two clean cloth towels to wrap around her hands.

“This reduces contact somewhat; maybe it won’t itch.”

She tried with a hopeful attitude.

Mrs. Diao thought it a decent idea, also wrapped her hands, and they started peeling yams together in the same basin.

Seeing this, other boatwomen glanced at each other and copied them, bringing basins to work in. The group managed to peel and wash the yams much faster.

Just as they were about to finish, Manager Zhong strolled over and coldly asked, “Who taught you to work like this?”

Manager Zhong’s attitude was always cold, never showing a friendly face. No one could tell her emotion in her words; it was always assumed she was angry again.

The boatwomen all turned fearful eyes towards Chu Chaoyun, terrified that the manager’s scolding would fall on her.

Being scolded was mild; if the hard-earned ten cents’ wages for a whole month were deducted, they’d be mad for days.

Following her gaze, Manager Zhong’s eyes settled on Chu Chaoyun.

Chu Chaoyun: “…”

Mrs. Diao seemed about to speak up but was stopped by Chu Chaoyun.

Ignoring Manager Zhong’s expression, Chu Chaoyun gave her a bright smile. “This method saves time and effort and avoids hand itching. Comfortable hands mean the rest of the work will be done more efficiently—a win-win!”

Manager Zhong sneered: “Is that what ‘win-win’ means?”

Her look clearly said: “You illiterate.”

Chu Chaoyun pretended to scratch her head, then stuck out her tongue: “Manager, don’t blame me—I don’t know many words. When anxious, I start babbling nonsense.”

Her careless and dodging words kept Manager Zhong silent. She just gave Chu Chaoyun a long, deep look before leaving.

Chu Chaoyun exhaled, finished the remaining work, then leaned against the boat to rest.

The sunset was sinking; the upper-class private rooms upstairs were merrily lively, with bursts of yam fragrance wafting out. Chu Chaoyun’s hungry, shriveled stomach practically curled up, aching to get inside.

At dinner, she grabbed four buns at once: two for herself and two for Xu Xianghe.

Manager Zhong had checked on Xu Xianghe today, seeing she was somewhat better, and urged her to work tomorrow. Xu Xianghe quietly wiped her tears, seeming to have resigned herself.

When Chu Chaoyun came to deliver the food, she placed dry buns on the footstool. Xu Xianghe quickly called after her, “Thank… thank you, Miss.”

Chu Chaoyun turned away, “There’s no need to thank me. I brought you soup last night because Manager Zhong told me to look after you.”

She spoke frankly.

Xu Xianghe was silent a long moment: “But you could have chosen not to care.”

She wasn’t wrong. Even if ordered by the manager, Chu Chaoyun could have ignored her. If Xu Xianghe really couldn’t take it and died, Chu Chaoyun could always say she was just acting recklessly and had no responsibility at all.

Chu Chaoyun, seeing her insight, realized she was clever, then took the two buns from the footstool.

Xu Xianghe didn’t ask; Chu Chaoyun didn’t explain.

Late at night, Chu Chaoyun took her new fishing net to the water. Before leaving, she sewed extra stitches along the edges, vigorously swung it a few times to test, feeling reassured.

Without that small stick stabbing randomly in the river, it was indeed much easier. Seeing fish swimming nearby, Chu Chaoyun quickly and accurately scooped up a fish.

“Too small.”

She released the small fish and patiently waited for bigger ones.

After several tries, she finally caught a large fish estimated to weigh two to three jin (about 1 to 1.5 kilograms). It looked like the same species as last night’s; Chu Chaoyun was glad since fewer small bones made it easier to cook.

Back in the kitchen, she started preparing the fish.

This time, instead of cutting the fish into slices, she chopped it finely and marinated it briefly in plum juice to remove the fishy smell. Before boarding, she picked some cattail from the river; at this season, cattails were everywhere with a unique pleasant aroma.

She tore off tender cattail stems, blanched them, and set them aside.

She had gathered six or seven dried buns during the day; she scraped off the hard crust to feed the fish, then cut the remaining buns in halves—still partly joined—to make it convenient to stuff the fish meat later.

She scooped some lard into the pan; once melted, she began frying the buns until golden brown. She then added the minced fish and chopped cattail stems into the pan and stir-fried them together.

Soon, a rich aroma filled the kitchen, making Chu Chaoyun swallow repeatedly.

Finally, she sprinkled some seasonings and took a small spoonful to put inside a bun. Unable to wait, she took a bite.