“Uncle Foster, there's no need for the wine, let's just have a chat like this!” Before William Foster Sr. could finish speaking, Henry Thompson hurriedly stopped him. In his previous life, he had always disliked the taste of alcohol, but sometimes he couldn't avoid it for social occasions, and every time he drank, he would end up vomiting terribly. Now that he had traveled to the Tang Dynasty, he had made up his mind never to drink again. What's more, this was a year of famine, so the price of wine must be even higher. William Foster Sr.'s family didn't even have enough grain to get through the winter, so he definitely couldn't let him spend extra money.

William Foster Sr. originally insisted on buying wine, but Henry Thompson was adamant in refusing, which finally made him give up the idea. The two of them then sat down at the small table next to the kitchen to chat. After a while, Mrs. Foster brought out the cooked fish. However, Henry Thompson could only smile bitterly in his heart. The cooking techniques of the Tang era were still very primitive—besides boiling, there was only roasting. Methods like stir-frying hadn't appeared yet. For example, the fish in front of him was simply boiled in water with salt, no green onions, ginger, or garlic, and the fishy smell was overwhelming. After taking one bite, Henry Thompson didn't want a second.

In contrast, William Foster Sr. ate several big mouthfuls of fish, his face showing an expression of enjoyment, as if he were savoring a rare delicacy. At this moment, Mrs. Foster also called the children to eat in the kitchen. When the children saw the boiled fish in front of Henry Thompson, each of them showed a look of longing, but they were quickly scolded by Mrs. Foster, and after that, they only dared to sneak a glance at Henry Thompson, then lowered their heads like little thieves.

Seeing this, Henry Thompson couldn't help but sigh inwardly, gaining a deeper understanding of the hardships of ordinary people in the early Tang Dynasty. At this moment, Mrs. Foster brought over two bowls of rice, and when Henry Thompson saw what was in the bowl, his heart tightened even more. The bowl contained a kind of porridge that was black with a hint of yellow, giving off a smell that was both familiar and strange to Henry Thompson. In his previous life, he had grown up in the countryside, and he remembered that some families would feed their pigs with something that smelled just like this. Pig feed was usually made from bran left over from milling flour, mixed with some wild vegetables and boiled together—almost no different from what was in front of him now.

“Uncle Foster, is this what you usually eat?” Henry Thompson asked in a low voice, thinking of the two bags of white flour William Foster Sr. had given him earlier, and then looking at the pig feed in front of him, his eyes couldn't help but sting a little.

“Heh, this year hasn't been good, so just having something to eat is already a blessing from heaven!” William Foster Sr. replied with an honest smile, a bit embarrassed. After all, Henry Thompson was an honored guest, and he shouldn't be serving such simple food, but since it was already late when Henry Thompson arrived and dinner was already prepared, they could only make do for now.

“Even though there was a locust plague this year, didn't we manage to harvest some grain in the end? Uncle Foster, you and your family shouldn't be too hard on yourselves.” Henry Thompson thought William Foster Sr. was reluctant to eat the grain, so he tried to persuade him.

“Master, it's kind of you to say that, but although we have some grain, there are still three months until next year, and after that, we have to get through the spring famine as well. All together, that's half a year. We can't afford to eat up all the grain—we have to save it for emergencies!” As William Foster Sr. finished speaking, his face grew serious. He had lived through countless famines in his life and had plenty of experience. In his careful calculations, every grain had to be used wisely.

“Uncle Foster, I don't think we can just grit our teeth and get by. We need to find a way to earn some money and improve things in the village.” Hearing this, Henry Thompson sighed again and finally voiced his thoughts. Although he hadn't yet come up with a good way to make money, he believed a solution would come eventually. The key was to organize the tenant farmers; otherwise, he wouldn't be able to accomplish much on his own.

Hearing Henry Thompson's words, William Foster Sr.'s honest face lit up with excitement. He slapped his thigh and said, “Master, that's exactly what I was thinking! It's just that we tenant farmers don't have much knowledge and can't think of ways to make money. But you're an educated man, much more knowledgeable than us, and you've done us a great favor. So whatever you say, we'll do it—no matter what it is!”

This was exactly what Henry Thompson had been waiting for. Although he had plenty of ideas for making money, he hadn't yet thought of one that suited the current situation, which left him a bit troubled.

“Smack! Waaa~” Just then, a crisp slap came from the kitchen, followed by a child's cry and then Mrs. Foster's angry scolding. Henry Thompson turned his head in surprise and saw the youngest child of the Liu family crying loudly, a clear handprint on his face, while Mrs. Foster was scolding as she picked something up off the ground.

“Woman, what are you making such a fuss for? Don't you see the master is here!” William Foster Sr. glared at his wife and scolded her. After all, it was disrespectful to be so noisy with a guest in the house.

“What happened?” Henry Thompson also stood up and walked a few steps forward, only to see Mrs. Foster crouched on the ground picking up soybeans one by one, while the crying child still had a few chewed beans in his mouth. In that instant, Henry Thompson seemed to understand what had happened.