Jiang Ning, who transmigrated into the role of the fiancée of a down-on-his-luck merchant, received a death sentence from the System: "Within three years, make the male lead, Shen Yan, spend one thousand taels on someone else."
Jiang Ning took a look at everything he owned: seven copper coins and a house full of debt.
First task: get him to buy a candied hawthorn skewer. Shen Yanzhi haggled with the vendor, bringing the price down from three coins to two, then talked them into adding half a skewer. In the end, the vendor tearfully gave it to him: "Please, just take it!" He came back holding the skewer. "See? I didn't spend anything." The System marked the task as a failure.
Second task: get him to treat his friends to a meal. He served plain noodles in clear broth and charged everyone two coins for firewood. The System marked the task as a failure.
Jiang Ning changed tactics. Every day, she helped him make brooms. Whenever one came apart, he'd make it again, then pay her two and a half coins for her work. She gave the money back to him. "Take me out for a meal." After hesitating for ages, he used the two and a half coins to buy some greens, made a bowl of plain noodles, gave her most of it, and drank the broth himself. The System flashed: +0.25%.
One thousand taels in three years? Maybe in a monkey's lifetime.
But he started bringing her things "while he was at it": a piece of candy, half a cracked tofu cake. Later, he found a yellow dog that wouldn't eat leftovers, so he secretly bought meat buns for it and lived on porridge for three days. The System's progress bar began to shoot up.
In the second year, Jiang Ning fell ill. He carried her to three clinics, emptied his money box, and was still five taels short. The next day, medicine lay by her bed, and a pawn ticket rested beside it. He'd pawned the hairpin that was his mother's only keepsake. He got six taels for it, and used the extra tael to buy two chickens. The System flashed: +6%.
In the third year, a flood hit, and refugees poured into the city. He brought out half a sack of stored grain and made porridge, staying awake for three days straight. The refugees knelt before him, calling him a living Bodhisattva. He corrected them with a stern face: "I'm Young Master Shen. Bodhisattvas don't keep accounts."
