Becoming the Stepmother: Transforming the Liew Family’s Fate

Daniel Yang also made Clara twenty arrows and delivered them to her in a quiver.

A good arrow didn't come cheap—the arrowheads, the fletching at the tail, those two components alone cost a good sum. Not to mention, the craftsmanship of arrow-making was a closely guarded skill.

Clara had mentally prepared herself to pay a high price, but Daniel just said, "Give me five taels of silver and we're square."

Clara raised an eyebrow. "That can't be enough, can it?"

Daniel waved his hand dismissively. "The materials aren't top-grade. The fletching was a bit of work, but I used feathers from birds I hunted myself, didn't cost me anything. Five taels is plenty."

Clara wasn't the sentimental sort. Since he was offering her a deal, she thanked him generously, handed over five taels, and left with the bow and arrows.

On her way home, she couldn't stop stealing glances at her new gear. It was like she'd just acquired a treasure—drawing and releasing the string again and again, not to shoot, but just to feel the bow hum with tension: twang!

You could imagine the power if she actually loosed an arrow.

Clara wouldn't claim she could shoot clean through a person, but piercing a full-grown deer? Easy.

Honestly, for someone with her arm strength, this bow was on the lighter side. If she had a real war bow and custom long arrows, she could probably shoot straight through a charging warhorse.

She passed the same valley where she'd encountered those bandits last time. Fortunately, no ambush today—just a few villagers from nearby hamlets passing by.

Clara minded her own business; no one greeted her, and she didn't bother either.

Behind her, an ox cart trundled along, loaded with goods and a few passengers.

The road was narrow—barely wide enough for one ox cart. Clara stepped aside. As the cart passed, she overheard snatches of their conversation: something about "oxen," "the authorities," and "year-end."

She tuned in.

Apparently, the Willowridge County authorities had been raising eight oxen. Each ox cost them an entire tael of silver per month in feed.

Now they couldn't afford it anymore. They planned to sell off the rest and keep just one.

On the fifteenth of the twelfth lunar month, they'd be taking the oxen to the livestock market.

Since these were official oxen, well-fed and rarely worked, they were in excellent condition.

One villager on the cart sounded tempted, saying he might head into town to see if he could get one at a decent price—would make next year's plowing much easier.

The others all sighed with envy.

The cart gradually rolled away, leaving Clara in its dust.

She was a bit surprised. Raising an ox cost that much? No wonder people used to say "An ox or horse eats like five men."

But would the officials only be selling live oxen? What if they slaughtered the older ones and sold the meat?

If so, maybe she could buy some sinew—perfect for replacing the slingshot's worn-out rubber.

Her eyes lit up at the thought. That was just five days from now.

She still hadn't bought winter charcoal. And with the new year coming, she ought to stock up on some supplies too. Perfect reason to take a trip to Willowridge County Town.

She only had ten taels and one qian of silver left in her purse, but she wasn't worried.

She had a good bow now. Even if it came down to hunting, she wouldn't starve.

As for the five members back home—well, the four kids were obedient and sweet. Lester? Once the new year passed, she'd be kicking him out to earn silver and pay off his debt!

At that moment, Lester Liew was sprawled out in his room, being lazy as usual, daydreaming about the day he'd conquer his fierce wife with nothing but charm and good looks, make her fall for him completely, and work herself to the bone just to pamper him.

What he didn't know was… his grace period was down to one month.

Just two miles away from Liew Clan Village, Clara spotted a flock of sparrows pecking in the fields. She took out her slingshot and brought down six of them.

Her first time using a slingshot without a rubber band, she'd clearly used too much force—the sparrows were a little mangled.

Still, meat was meat.

Lester, grinning on the surface, took the grim little birds into the kitchen to clean. Inside, he was cursing her heartlessness.

Every time he turned around in the kitchen, he could see Clara in the courtyard showing off her bow, posing this way and that like a smug warrior.

He couldn't help calling out snidely, "Where'd that bow come from? Must've cost a pretty penny, huh?"

Clara was in a great mood. She turned with a smile and aimed the bow straight at him. "Bought it. Not much—just five taels."

"Five taels?!" Lester blurted before he could stop himself.

Clara nodded coolly. "What? Got a problem with that?"

Lester wanted to scream. Was she insane?!

Five taels for a bow?! You couldn't eat it, you couldn't wear it—

Oh wait, it could shoot right through him.

Watching the way Clara kept tightening the bowstring with him in her sights, Lester swallowed hard and forced out a smile that he thought was tender and adoring. "Nope, no problem at all. As long as you like it, darling."

Adam and the other kids had heard about Clara's new toy. Curiosity got the best of them and they gathered around, eager to touch it, but hesitant too.

Clara handed the bow to Adam. "Go ahead, try it."

The boy was thrilled… until he tried to pull the string. His little brows knit together in frustration—it was too heavy, too stiff. He couldn't even draw it.

"Hahaha…" Clara couldn't hold back a laugh.

Seeing him nearly stomp in embarrassment, she waved him over, crouched beside him, and guided his hands.

They nocked an arrow, drew the string together, and—twang!

Thwack! The arrow flew like lightning and buried itself deep into the stacked firewood, quivering for a long while before going still.

"Waaah!" Deb's eyes sparkled like stars as she looked at her stepmother and big brother.

Ben shouted that he wanted a turn next.

"Alright, one at a time." Clara was fair and generous. All four kids got a go.

Every time an arrow shot out, the courtyard echoed with cries of awe and admiration: "Wow!" "Mom's amazing!"

Eventually, the novelty wore off. Ben got distracted by the smell of fried sparrow from the kitchen and snuck off.

Chad wasn't much of a sports kid. He sat quietly on a little stool in the corridor, clapping his hands now and then, cheering for the others.

Adam was focused. When he couldn't draw the bow, he thought of something else—retrieving the arrows stuck in the firewood stack.

But when he tried, he realized—he couldn't pull them out.

"Auntie Clara?" the boy looked up at her, frustrated and a little embarrassed.

Clara strode over and yanked out the arrows easily.

But then—CRASH! A huge rumble followed.

The neatly stacked firewood toppled with a deafening roar.

"What's going on?!"

Lester hurriedly ran out holding a spatula, dragging Erlang who was still holding the sparrow meat, thinking that the newly repaired house was about to collapse.

Deb was bracing the giant bow, trying to keep it upright as she looked at the scattered pile of logs. "Papa, the firewood… it collapsed on its own!"

Lester stared at the mess. Deb, sweetie, are you sure it collapsed all by itself?

He'd spent days stacking that firewood into a perfect little "treasure tower." Now it looked like someone had kicked it into a tornado.

He thought of having to restack it all.

Lester sucked in a sharp breath and pinched the bridge of his nose hard, trying not to pass out from pure rage.

(End of Chapter)

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