All afternoon, Clara didn't stop for a moment, busy working around the house and yard.
After hanging the bedding to dry, she took apart the bedboards and the straw mattress on the bed, carrying everything outside the door to sun-dry.
During this, a small "surprise" happened—when Clara flipped through the straw, she suddenly uncovered a nest of dead mice. Quite the spectacle.
After finishing that, she grabbed a bamboo pole and made a broom herself, then went inside to sweep away cobwebs and scrape the crumbling plaster off the walls. The dirt fell in clumps, and the walls visibly thinned with every scrape.
This "tofu-dreg" quality of the walls—forget about heavy snow, even a strong rain could wash it all away!
"What kind of life did you used to live? Is this how people are supposed to live?" Clara couldn't hold back a complaint, wiping plaster dust off her face for the third time.
This wasn't a disaster or apocalypse scenario—how could anyone live so poorly when things should be okay? It was unbelievable.
The Liew siblings, freshly cleaned, blushed at her words, ashamed, lowering their heads. Barefoot, their toes curled as if wanting to dig into the earth.
Because their father Lester was neglectful, none of the children learned to care for themselves properly. The village kids avoided them, disgusted by their dirt and smell.
Even if they did nothing wrong, just walking too close to others would earn them scolding.
Growing up surrounded by such harsh discrimination, the four siblings had sensitive hearts. They misunderstood Clara's words as disdain and quietly stepped back two paces.
Clara finished cleaning the walls and noticed the wind picking up. Quickly, she pressed the spread-out straw flat with the bedboards, to keep it from blowing everywhere.
Having finished, she turned around and saw the four children looking at her, embarrassed and angry.
"What's wrong?" Clara asked, confused. Had she been too harsh?
The siblings shook their heads in unison.
Wiping sweat, hands on hips, Clara asked Adam, "Do you know where there's dry straw?"
Adam nodded and asked why she needed the straw. Clara pointed to their bare feet and her own worn-out straw sandals barely holding together.
Adam understood immediately. Ben, Chad and Deb's eyes lit up. Was the stepmother going to make them straw shoes?
During the late apocalypse period, resources were scarce—even a pair of shoes was valuable and fought over.
Next door lived an old man who specialized in weaving straw shoes to trade for goods. When Clara had free time, she learned a bit from him.
Though her shoes weren't as refined as the market ones, they were perfectly fine for daily wear.
Sneaking along with Adam and Ben like thieves, Clara went to Old Walter Liew's rice field where a few piles of straw had not yet been brought in.
Clara raised an eyebrow. "Is it okay to just take this?"
Adam didn't say a word, but his practiced hands showed this was a regular habit.
Ben boldly declared, "Dad said Grandpa's stuff is his, and his is ours. Taking our own things is only right."
Clara was stunned. What kind of nonsense was Lester teaching?
But looking at the large bundle of straw in her arms, Clara chose to keep quiet.
She motioned for the brothers to hurry. Each of the three of them carried bundles of straw, and soon disappeared into the fields.
Lester's home was remote, and once near the house, they slowed down—mostly because the two little ones behind couldn't keep up, gasping for breath, their noontime taro fully digested after running this much.
"How do you run so fast?" Adam asked curiously, panting.
Clara replied seriously, "Because I'm older and my legs are longer."
Adam didn't quite believe her but didn't ask further.
After catching his breath, Ben quickened his pace to catch up, "Are you going to make us shoes? You can weave straw shoes?"
That craft was only known by the village elders. He and his brother had once tried to sneak a lesson but almost got beaten.
Clara suddenly stopped walking.
The two brothers behind almost ran into her, barely stopping in time.
Their sun-darkened faces flushed. "Wh-what's wrong?"
Clara held all the straw bundles in one arm, freeing a hand to gently pat one boy's head. "None of this 'you' and 'your'—so rude! You should call me 'Auntie.'"
Both froze for a moment, then seemed relieved and said in unison, "Auntie."
Clara smiled with satisfaction. "That's better. Once home, put down the straw and help me peel off the dry outer layer, leaving only the strongest middle part."
The brothers said "Okay" and placed the straw under the eaves.
They were obedient kids, and Clara was secretly pleased.
Actually, having them call her "Mom" wasn't just unappealing to them — Clara herself felt awkward. "Auntie" was just fine.
Inside the house, Chad and Deb heard the noise by the door and came out. Clara told them to call her "Auntie" from now on.
Chad was a bit confused. "Aren't we supposed to call you Mom?"
Ben glared at his brother, "Dummy, calling Auntie is fine. We still have a Mom. Who wants to call some stranger Mom?"
Adam dusted off the straw bits from his hands and urged the twins, "Chad, Deb, call Auntie."
Chad shyly said, "Auntie."
Clara responded with a "yes," and patted his little head. "Go watch the drying straw and don't let the wind blow it away."
Given their task, Chad shyly smiled and nodded. Excited, he picked up a small stick like a baton and stood by the straw pile, carefully guarding it.
Deb suddenly ran over, hugged Clara tightly, and said with tears, "I want Mom, I want Mom, I want Mom!"
Adam awkwardly looked at Clara. The little sister was too young to reason with. And since Clara was right there, just about to make them straw shoes, telling her she wasn't their mom seemed harsh.
Clara sighed lightly, waved at the troubled boy to get back to peeling straw, and gently pulled open a little pendant on her thigh. She comforted the crying child:
"You can call me Mom or Auntie — whatever you want, just be good, okay?"
Deb wiped away her tears and smiled brightly at Clara. "Okay."
"You're such a good baby," Clara said softly, wiping away her tears. She handed her a small handful of straw as a toy and told her to sit still and watch while everyone else worked.
Without a yard or fence, kids could disappear in a flash. They needed to be watched carefully.
After settling the little one, Clara led the two older boys to start weaving the straw shoes.
They usually had a special frame to do this, but conditions didn't allow it now. So Clara whittled some tree branches with a small knife to use as a frame, which worked well enough.
Making straw shoes started with processing the straw: twisting it all into thin ropes before putting them on the frame to weave the shoes.
Adam and Ben were weak and could only make loose ropes, so their help was limited to prepping the straw. The rest was all done by Clara herself.
All afternoon, Clara twisted rope, her palms almost burning, finally finishing all the straw she had carried.
The sun was setting, and she rolled up the ropes and stored them inside the house.
She hadn't even had a sip of water, immediately calling the kids to carry the fluffy bedding and straw back inside, then remade two beds.
In the main room, removing half the bedboards and making just one single bed instantly opened up the space. A low table, previously used for cooking, was placed in the middle, turning this corner into a multi-purpose activity area.
The four kids had their own room. Clara brought the bedboards from the main room to widen the bed so all four could sleep together without crowding.
The freshly made bed smelled of straw and sunlight. Deb climbed onto the bed and rolled around happily, exclaiming, "Mom, it's so soft!"
(End of chapter)