With the funds, materials, manpower, and machinery all in place, the kitchen—with its three rooms above ground and three below—was completely built in less than five days. This included the covered walkway connecting it to the old house, the wall insulation and plastering, the construction of the stove, and the reinforcement of the old house.

The original back door of the old house, which had been small and somewhat damaged, was now reinforced and renovated. It became a perfect match for the tall, covered walkway and looked excellent.

Considering his grandmother’s age, all the floors were given a non-slip treatment.

A lightning rod was also installed high on the roof ridge. Its appearance was designed to coordinate with the architectural style, using a well-concealed down conductor to channel potential lightning strikes safely into the ground.

Li Xiang personally climbed up to install the five small beast figurines. Small, protruding steel posts had been left on the roof ridge; he just had to coat them with cement and slide the figurines on. These small beasts were fired from earthenware and were the same color as the glazed roof tiles. Some parts were even painted, shimmering with iridescent colors in the sunlight.

Many people from the village came to have a look, and all of them praised it.

A white-haired elder leaning on a cane remarked with emotion, "Even the Li Family’s great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather couldn’t manage something like this, even back when they were wealthy."

Back in the time of the Li Family’s great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather, the family was wealthy. They were country squires and landowners, and some family members even served as minor officials. However, when they built their ancestral home, they weren’t qualified to place so many small beasts on the roof; they were only allowed to follow the "one-beast" configuration.

In other words, they could only place one small beast on each flying eave, whereas Li Xiang now had five.

But things are different now compared to ancient times. In modern society, as long as you have the money, you can put up as many as you want—no one would care even if you put up eighty-one.

Be that as it may, for the older villagers, it was still quite moving to see this young man, Li Xiang, achieve something that had once been an impossible dream.

Because of this, whenever someone in Li Family Village built a Chinese-style house from then on, they all followed his example and placed Divine Beasts on their roof ridges. They were truly beautiful and magnificent.

And this was just for a kitchen.

Of the kitchen’s three above-ground rooms, the one in the middle was, of course, the main room. It was very spacious, containing a stove and a dining area. As for the two side rooms, one was a storage room. Li Xiang moved the refrigerator in there and also built some bamboo shelves for storing everyday food and miscellaneous items.

The five kittens could now run and jump. Filled with curiosity about the world, they spent their days exploring everywhere. However, they were still too small to climb over the threshold. Li Xiang saw them dangling and struggling, so he gave them a helping hand and placed them inside the storage room.

He did this because he had been inside, and the kittens were desperately trying to get in.

The mother cat, afraid her kittens might get hurt, followed closely behind.

In truth, even if Li Xiang hadn’t intervened, the mother cat would have carried them across one by one.

Now that the kittens were older, even strangers could pet them without the mother cat minding. She could clearly distinguish her own kittens now, so there was no risk of her misidentifying them and biting someone by mistake.

With six cats patrolling the house daily, it was practically impossible for any mice to be around. If one did show up, it would just be a free meal for the kittens—a chance for them to taste some fresh meat and practice their hunting skills.

The other side room, meanwhile, was a bathroom. Since it was close to the kitchen, it was convenient to carry hot water over. A drain had also been specially installed in the room for easy drainage.

Li Xiang bought two large wooden tubs—one for himself and one for his grandmother—so they could take hot baths in the winter.

His grandmother, however, was getting on in years and didn’t like to take baths, as it was too taxing for her body. She simply wiped herself down with a hot towel each day, soaking her feet at most. She only took a full bath every five or six days.

The newly built stove in the kitchen was still a double-burner model, but it was of even better quality than the one in the bamboo house and was finished with tile.

Grandma adored the new kitchen.

In truth, the project had gone a bit over budget. The original plan was for 100,000 yuan, but the entire setup ended up costing over 120,000.

The money he had managed to save was now mostly gone, leaving him with less than 30,000 yuan.

The villagers all discussed it, remarking how great it was to have money and how quickly a house could be built.

Li Xiang planned to plant some flowers along one side of the covered walkway once spring arrived and the flowers began to bloom, especially plum blossoms and wintersweet.

"By the wall’s corner, a few plum sprigs bloom alone, defying the cold. I know from afar it isn’t snow, for a subtle fragrance drifts my way."

In the winters to come, which would grow colder each year, only the "plum blossoms that defy the snow" could bring a splash of vibrant color and a subtle fragrance.

The Chinese word for plum blossom, *méihuā*, is a homophone for *méi*, which means "bad luck" or "misfortune." Because of this, some superstitious people are reluctant to plant them inside their courtyards, though planting them outside the courtyard or in a garden is considered acceptable.

Yet some historical figures who were obsessed with plum blossoms, like the Northern Song Dynasty poet Lin Bu and the Qing Dynasty writer Gong Zizhen, planted them right in their own courtyards.

The five petals of the plum blossom symbolize good fortune: luck, prosperity, longevity, happiness, and wealth. In folk tradition, this is known as the "Five Blessings," and the flowers carry the auspicious meaning of "heralding the spring and announcing joy."

Wintersweet blossoms are yellow, and they aren’t actually the same species as plum blossoms. Plum blossoms belong to the family Rosaceae, while wintersweet forms its own family, Calycanthaceae.

In biological classification—Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Genus, Species—they don’t even share the same Family, so the difference is naturally enormous.

Since all the construction materials were environmentally friendly, there was virtually no formaldehyde or any other strange odors. The cellar’s ventilation was excellent and the air was fresh, so Li Xiang moved all the sweet potatoes down there and stored them in a corner.

The Medicinal Wine he had been steeping was also moved down. The ingredients—two venomous snakes and two Red Dragon Centipedes—were both potential Mutated Creatures that he had air-dried before adding to the wine.

Li Xiang also bought some goji berries and astragalus root and tossed them in. The main reason was that the Snake Wine had a slightly unpleasant, fishy smell. Adding these two herbs would not only have a nourishing effect and enhance the efficacy of the Medicinal Wine, but would also eliminate the rank odor. It could even add a hint of a sweet aftertaste, improving the wine’s overall taste and flavor profile.

Goji berries are believed to improve vision and nourish the liver and kidneys, while astragalus root is a qi-tonifying herb. Both are very standard, widely used ingredients, so there was no risk of any adverse effects.

The spice packet for braising that Li Xiang had bought previously also contained astragalus root.

After tidying up the kitchen, he filmed a short video and posted it to his social media account. Fans flooded the comments section, with the most-discussed topic being the "five beasts" Li Xiang had designed for the roof ridges. It had to be said, there were quite a few knowledgeable people out there.

For those who didn’t understand, Li Xiang didn’t even need to reply; other enthusiastic fans would jump in to explain the cultural significance for him.

What made Li Xiang especially happy was that after selling so many orders during his previous winter bamboo shoot livestream, he had received zero returns and not a single negative review. It was a perfect 100% satisfaction rate.

That was incredibly rare.

Li Xiang posted another video specifically to thank his fans for their support.

His top donor, a mysterious woman named Feifei, was something of an enigma. She rarely spoke, and her age, identity, and appearance were all unknown. She came across as very cool and aloof.

But one thing was certain: she was extremely wealthy.

Everyone had noticed that she showed up to support nearly every one of Li Xiang’s streams. She was always either the number one or number two donor, never once dropping out of the top three.

The persimmon tree in the backyard was laden with fruit, and Li Xiang realized it was time to harvest them to make dried persimmons. Once the heavy snows arrived, the bad weather would persist for over half a month with intermittent flurries, making it unsuitable for sun-drying. While the weather was still decent, it was the perfect time to get started.