The next day, just as dawn was breaking, Old Bill went out to work. Bill's wife was equally industrious, busy from the very early morning.
She wore a faded, coarse-cloth apron and kept her hood drawn. Chopping firewood, fetching water, tending the stove, cleaning—she kept busy without a moment's rest.
Though this small pasture was poor, every corner was kept neat and clean, clearly reflecting her diligence.
After preparing breakfast, she walked softly into the storage room, ready to wake Ghost.
"Arya? Time to get up for breakfast." Mrs. Bill wore a loving expression as she gently shook Ghost, unable to resist softly stroking her beautiful, platinum-long hair.
Ghost had actually been awake for a while, merely pretending to sleep.
When the couple had asked yesterday, Ghost felt those two words sounded a bit strange as a personal name, so she simply made up a common name for herself: Arya. She had even concocted a backstory of a fallen family, encountering bandits while visiting relatives, and losing everything.
As it turned out, the couple didn't ask at all, perhaps afraid of touching upon her painful memories.
Pretending to have just woken up, Ghost opened her eyes and yawned. "Good morning, madam. You look well."
Mrs. Bill was overjoyed, increasingly convinced that Ghost was some young noble lady. She was so cute, elegant, and polite.
"Oh, what kind of madam am I? Just call me Aunt Mesa."
"Are you hungry? Come have breakfast, hurry up~"
Obediently, Ghost got up, reaching out with her small hand to let Mesa lead her outside.
On the dilapidated long dining table, there were only two simple portions of food.
Two bowls of porridge that looked overcooked and scorched. The porridge barely contained a few wilted vegetable stalks and boiled tubers whose shapes were no longer recognizable.
A wooden plate held two oval-shaped things that looked like lumps of mud... Ghost guessed they must be some kind of flour-based food.
Compared to what she had been given to eat last night, this was a far cry indeed.
Ghost gained a further understanding of the impoverished situation in Old Bill's household.
I'm afraid the smoked sausage she had stolen before, and the dry bread and cheese she ate yesterday, were good things they usually couldn't bear to eat.
Her sense of guilt deepened.
Seeing Ghost standing still and staring blankly, Mesa touched her little head. "Why aren't you eating, Arya?"
Then she looked somewhat self-reproachful. "We don't have much of anything good at home, just eat a little for now. When the old man comes back from selling things, I'll make apple pie for Arya, alright?"
Ghost hurriedly shook her head. "No need, Aunt Mesa. I can just eat this."
Afraid Mesa wouldn't believe her, Ghost picked up the porridge bowl and gulped it down.
It really was very difficult to eat... the taste was like a week-old leftover porridge stew. The texture was mushy, and the flavor was both salty and astringent.
Yet Ghost put on a very satisfied look, quickly finishing the bowl of porridge and nearly choking in the process.
She left the dirt-clump-like thing untouched.
Happily, she said to Mesa, "I'm full, Aunt Mesa, it tastes very good."
Mesa affectionately stroked the little girl's head. Eating this every single day of the year, could she not know what it tasted like?
This child clearly looked like she came from a noble background, yet her heart was so kind.
She had seen the Lord of the Dreadfort and the meals of the noble lords. Even the dogs kept by the lords ate better than the commoners—all large chunks of rich, fat meat.
Mesa still had to rush her flock of sheep to a distant grassy meadow to graze. She instructed Ghost to stay obediently at home, and if any strangers came or something seemed wrong, to hide in the cellar and make no sound.
Ghost nodded obediently, and after Mesa made her repeat it twice more, she finally set off with her flock, looking back every few steps.
It wasn't until dusk that the tired couple returned home one after the other. From afar, they saw Ghost standing very well-behaved outside the pasture waiting for them.
The couple exchanged a glance, reaching a mutual understanding.
Dinner was much richer, featuring small chunks of black bread and clear vegetable soup, and Aunt Mesa even sliced up a small plate of cured salted meat.
Ghost's original intention was to let the couple eat more, but Mesa simply picked up the plate and dumped all the meat into Ghost's bowl.
A sour, astringent feeling arose in her chest, making her nostalgically think of her own mother.
If she wasn't here anymore, would her mother worry?
Or would she feel a secret sense of relief, glad she no longer had to look at that good-for-nothing appearance of hers?
Clearly, when she was little, her mother would also gently tell her stories and cook delicious food for her. But later...
Unwittingly, the corners of Ghost's eyes turned red, though the teardrops stubbornly refused to fall, swirling persistently at the edge of her eyes.
Mesa and Old Bill watched Ghost with gentle gazes the entire time.
Coming back to her senses, Ghost self-consciously buried her face in her bowl.
Mesa said softly, "Arya, would you like to stay?"
Ghost looked blankly at them; the hardships of their difficult lives made the couple look haggard and aged.
Yet it was precisely faces like these that radiated a light called kindness.
"I would like to, Mesa."
The survival environment in The North was extremely harsh, especially around the Wall.
The northern lands were barren with scarce resources. Only a few fiefs could rely on fishing, hunting grounds, or the production of precious timber to survive.
Land suitable for farming was mostly concentrated in the south and southeast, located at the border between House Stark's territory and the southern domains.
As for Old Bill's Rotten Grass Pasture, Old Bill's sheep, and even Old Bill himself, they all belonged to the Bolton family of the Dreadfort.
Although the Starks, rulers of The North, had repeatedly reduced taxes in recent years, they simply could not control the private extortion practiced by some lords and nobles across various regions.
They devised all sorts of ways to plunder the common folk, and some even had their private soldiers disguise themselves as bandits to rob merchants.
Old Bill and Mesa did not ask why Ghost was wandering around all by herself. Under the cruel rule of the Dreadfort, they had long since seen too many commoners—and even minor nobles—driven to ruin and the destruction of their families.
It was also because of this that Old Bill had half-adopted out his 12-year-old son to his younger brother, Little Bill.
Little Bill's family had no children; though not wealthy either, they lived in a village near Winterfell. They had a plot of farmland of their own and two horses.
Under the rule of House Stark, the younger brother Little Bill could not only keep his family fed and clothed, but perhaps even help his son find a girl to marry.
Old Bill and Mesa felt their own lives had no hope left, but their son still had a chance at a good life.
Not to mention, their son had even become a servant attending young Master Ned Stark.
Ghost's arrival added a bright splash of color to the Bills' numb and monotonous lives. They genuinely wanted to live with her as if she were their daughter.
Ghost could feel this sincerity, but staying behind meant the first problem to solve was food. Given her appetite, if she wanted to eat a half-satisfying meal, she would likely bankrupt the couple within a few days.
Yet, before her transmigration, she was just a good-for-nothing... her knowledge base was extremely meager, and for the moment she really couldn't think of any good solutions.
Sigh, if only she had a spatial storage item or a system...