I Become a Stepmother in Ancient Times and Help My Scholar Husband Rise Through the Ranks with a System
I transmigrated into the body of a stepmother in ancient times who had starved to death. With her dying breath, she stuffed the last half-piece of flatbread to her stepchild.
After binding to a poverty-alleviation System, I roll up my sleeves: "You little brats, get moving. We're making money!"
Modern know-how crushes the old ways: composting produces bumper harvests, and bamboo pipes bring water right to the stove.
When I toss hot pot seasoning into the pot, the whole village thinks I'm casting a spell.
At first, my cold and aloof scholar husband frowns. "A woman should not show herself in public."
Later, he quietly helps me make tofu and brings me a silver hairpin late at night. "My lady, my salary is enough to support you."
Until he rises to become the highest-ranking official in the region, and the people kneel, begging for chili seeds.
I laugh with my hands on my hips. "You want in on the technology? Sign a contract first!"
