Chapter 65: Visiting Relatives, Things Are About to Go Wrong

**Chapter 65: The Visit Nearly Goes Awry**

"This wasn’t made by us—it was a gift," Mrs. Guo spoke up, worried that Li Hui might keep eating piece after piece. Since these sweets weren’t homemade but given by someone else, it wouldn’t be right to let her eat them all—just a small taste is enough.

After all, they weren’t meant for Li Hui. While there were no strict rules about who could or couldn’t eat them, Mrs. Guo still felt the pastries had been given as a gesture to Fan Yani and her husband. Under such circumstances, how could she let Li Hui keep helping herself?

Fan Yani quickly understood the situation.

"These were sent by Sister Fenglan," Fan Yani said.

"She... she... Can you even eat these while recovering from childbirth?" Li Hui snapped.

"I can’t, but others can," Fan Yani replied. "My husband, my mother—they can all have some. Didn’t you just try one too? There aren’t many to begin with. A taste is enough."

"If I’d known she made them... I wouldn’t have eaten any," Li Hui muttered. She didn’t openly badmouth Song Fenglan, but she disliked interacting with her and didn’t want to lose face in front of her.

Li Hui had long heard that Song Fenglan was skilled at making pastries. But so what? If her cooking was poor, it wouldn’t matter. Who eats pastries every day anyway? Only a spoiled rich girl like Song Fenglan would eat them all the time. Most families might make them once every few months, but Song Fenglan’s household made them monthly.

On her days off, Song Fenglan made treats, thinking that since she worked most of the time, she wanted to cheer up her children—and enjoy herself too. Besides, she either bought ready-made rice flour or had her husband grind the rice for her, so she didn’t have to bother with much prep work.

The ingredients weren’t anything fancy—just everyday items. Anyone could see that. It all came down to whether people had the time. With childcare and work, most people barely had time to rest, let alone make sweets.

"Sister Fenglan’s pastries are delicious—even better than those from shops," Fan Yani said. "Anyone who’s tried them knows her skill is top-notch."

"Pastries aren’t a meal," Li Hui scoffed. "If they’re hers, then just leave them out. I came to see you, not to snack on a few pieces."

Truthfully, when Li Hui saw the pastries on the table, she had suspected they might be from Song Fenglan—but she still reached for them. She wanted to know if they were really as good as people said. If they weren’t, they shouldn’t be given away so freely. Who would want to eat badly made pastries?

After tasting them, Li Hui had to admit Song Fenglan’s handiwork was actually good—though she’d never say it out loud.

"Look at how cautious you’re being. Does Song Fenglan spy on whether you’re eating them or not?" Li Hui said. "Anyway, I’ve seen you now. I should go."

Li Hui didn’t want to stay longer, nor did she want to dwell on the pastries. Just a few pieces, yet her mother-in-law had taken them away—so stingy. If it had been her own mother, she would have either hidden them immediately or let everyone eat freely.

Hiding them meant no one would see and complain. Leaving them out meant sharing.

These people had no manners.

Li Hui’s disdain for Mrs. Guo was obvious, and Mrs. Guo noticed. But she refused to argue, knowing their worlds were too different.

After Li Hui left, Mrs. Guo sighed.

"Mom, it’s not your fault," Fan Yani reassured her. "Next time she visits, if things are on the table, just leave them out. No need to give her a reason to resent you."

Fan Yani didn’t want their relationship ruined over something so trivial. Their household wasn’t short on food.

"They were gifts—I just hadn’t put them away yet when she arrived. One piece was fine, but she kept going," Mrs. Guo explained.

"These pastries are small. A couple won’t hurt," Fan Yani said. "Don’t worry about upsetting us. Sister Fenglan has sent us pastries before—we’ve all had them. Mom, try some. Hers are truly delicious—sweet without being too much, and they don’t stick to your teeth. I’ve tried following her steps, but even with the same ingredients, mine never turn out as good."

Fan Yani thought cooking was almost like magic—sometimes it was all about a feel for it. The same conditions could yield vastly different results. Even a slight difference could change everything.

"Go on, have some," Fan Yani encouraged. "Your son-in-law has had them before. Sister Fenglan knew I couldn’t eat them during my postpartum recovery, but she still sent them—probably thinking of you, wanting you to try them."

Fan Yani understood. She couldn’t eat them, and her husband could abstain, but her adoptive mother rarely visited. Song Fenglan had remembered her kindness. Fan Yani really respected her—she was a truly kind person.

"Let me try." Mrs. Guo picked up a pastry and took a bite. It was indeed sweet, but tasty. She nodded. "No wonder your sister-in-law couldn't stop at just one. It really is delicious."

"Right?" Fan Yani said. "I often bake cookies and share some with Feng Lan too. I can't keep accepting their food without giving back. Feng Lan spoils her kids, always making all sorts of treats for them. I doubt I'd have the patience for that."

These days, Fan Yani's baby kept her up all night wailing, leaving her exhausted. Though Mrs. Guo helped with the baby and fixed bottles, Fan Yani still worried.

"With such great cooking skills, did her family run a restaurant before?" Mrs. Guo asked.

"No," Fan Yani shook her head. "Her family was well-to-do. The elders passed these skills down—it’s tradition."

Fan Yani pictured those elegant ladies from historical dramas, the noble daughters of ancient times. They weren’t just idle bouquets—they had many talents. They managed accounts, cooked, embroidered… These young women could support themselves even if their families lost everything. Rich folks didn’t just laze around expecting to be waited on hand and foot.

Fan Yani guessed they’d been raised right, passing it down through generations. No wonder their families thrived so well.

"Mom, have some," Fan Yani said. "If you like it, don’t hold back on our account—we can always have more later. Just don’t offer any to Sister-in-law. Even if you did now, she wouldn’t accept it. You’ve heard it too—Sister-in-law initially wanted to marry Feng Lan’s husband. Even after they got married, she still hoped they’d divorce. With someone as wonderful as Feng Lan, why would her husband ever leave her? To put it bluntly, in looks, talent, cooking skills, or anything else, how could Sister-in-law compare? Can she even out-dance Feng Lan?"

Fan Yani felt Li Hui was inferior to Song Fenglan in every way. "Sister-in-law isn’t even working in the cultural troupe anymore, which shows she’s replaceable. Dancing is mostly a young person’s game—you can’t keep doing it forever. You lose your limberness as you get older."

Mrs. Guo quietly ate the pastry, knowing Fan Yani had a point.

"Mom, just listen and don’t bring it up with Sister-in-law," Fan Yani said. "Given your situation, it’s better not to say anything."

No matter how Mrs. Guo might criticize Li Hui, Guo Peng adored her. He lived with Li Hui, while his parents stayed in the countryside. Guo Peng obviously wanted his mom to cut Li Hui some slack, asking her to compromise so things could work out. Coming from a rural background with limited education, he subconsciously believed Li Hui wasn’t wrong—it was just the difference between urban and rural lifestyles.

Once his mind was made up, there was no reasoning with him.

"Stay with me, help look after the baby, and take care of me. That’s the right thing to do," Fan Yani said. "If I slip up, just say so. But calling out your daughter-in-law isn’t your place."

"The chicken soup is ready. I’ll serve you some," Mrs. Guo said.

She knew Fan Yani had a point. They didn’t live with Guo Peng all the time, so it was better if he and Li Hui got along. If they started butting heads, it’d be a mess.

Li Hui struggled to conceive. Mrs. Guo wasn’t against Guo Peng having his own children, but it was his choice. No one else was to blame.

Song Fenglan didn’t know what was happening in Fan Yani’s household. Even if she did, she wouldn’t regret sending food over with Qin Yizhou. The conflict was between Li Hui and Mrs. Guo—without the pastries, something else would have triggered it.

After finishing the pastries, Qin Zihang and the others had some fruit and happily watched TV.

"This must be how immortals live," Mrs. Guo couldn’t help sighing, watching Zhang Xiaohu lounging comfortably. He loved coming to Song Fenglan’s place precisely because life here was good.

"This is nothing special," Song Fenglan said. "In a few years, your family will have a TV, fridge, and many other things."

"How could we ever afford that? Even if we had the cash, we’d need ration coupons," Auntie Fatty said. "Having a bicycle at home is already pretty good."

Auntie Fatty couldn’t imagine such luxuries. If the family had money, it should be spent on more important things.

"In the future, TVs and such won’t be a big deal," Song Fenglan said. "Times are changing. Appliances will eventually become common in every household. Then, people might even think about replacing old ones with newer models."

"I doubt it..." Auntie Fatty had never considered that. If that day ever came, it’d be a dream.

"It will," Song Fenglan said. "When we were kids, who could’ve imagined appliances would advance this far?"

"True. Who knows how many years it’ll take, though," Auntie Fatty said.

"It won’t be long," Song Fenglan said. "Maybe before Xiao Hu even graduates from elementary school, your family will already have those things."

"If that’s true, it really would be soon," Auntie Fatty said. "I just worry we’ll have the items but not enough money."

"Prices will drop for these things," Song Fenglan said. "If not, wages will rise."

Song Fenglan thought that money could stay relatively stable for a while, with inflation creeping up slowly—but sometimes it spiked dramatically. Suddenly, money became worthless. A few percent inflation yearly adds up to a hundred percent eventually, and that’s a terrifying rate.

"Will mango trees grow well if planted in the yard?" Auntie Fatty asked.

"They can," Song Fenglan replied. "Isn’t there an area in the southern part of the city where mango trees are planted for landscaping? The mangoes there grow quite well."

Song Fenglan had been out and seen it herself. The roadside mango trees absorbed a lot of car fumes, but people still picked and ate them. In those days, many couldn't even get enough to eat—who cared whether the mangoes had excessive heavy metals or other contaminants? They just knew they were edible.

Hardly anyone in the housing complex bothered picking those mangoes, mainly because those areas were quite far away. If folks from here went scavenging fruit on another block, people would gossip.

"I’ll have my husband get a mango tree too," Auntie Fatty said. "If it grows well, that’d be great. Bayberry trees and longan trees are also nice."

"That could work," Song Fenglan nodded.

"There are plenty of fruit trees that can be planted, but the yard is a bit small—can’t fit too many," Auntie Fatty said.

"It’s fine, just plant a few," Song Fenglan replied.

"True, just for our own consumption, no need to plant too many," Auntie Fatty agreed.

The kids were too busy playing to remember naptime—they just wanted to keep going.

Song Fenglan noticed Qin Zihang’s eyelids were heavy, but he kept staring at the TV.

"If you're sleepy, go take a nap. You can play again after you wake up," Song Fenglan said.

"After waking up, I have to do exercises," Qin Zihang said. "Can’t just play forever—I’ll rot my brain."

"…" Song Fenglan hadn’t pressured him to study, but he understood the importance on his own.

"I’ll take Xiao Hu and the others back to rest," Auntie Fatty said. Since Qin Zihang was about to nap, they shouldn’t disturb them anymore.

Zhang Xiaohu was reluctant to leave—he still wanted to watch TV. But before he could say anything, Auntie Fatty gave him a sharp look, and he didn’t dare ask to stay.

Song Fenglan saw Auntie Fatty’s stern expression and how quickly Zhang Xiaohu backed down. She glanced at Qin Zihang—though she wasn’t strict with him, her son was relatively well-behaved. She didn’t want to always be scowling at her kid; too much frowning might ruin her skin.

The kids scattered, and Qin Yizhou turned off the TV, taking Qin Zihang to his room to rest. Once in bed, Qin Zihang fell asleep quickly.

After planting trees and snacking on pastries all morning, no wonder he was sleepy. He hadn’t eaten much for lunch, just some pastries. That was okay—there would be more when he got hungry.

While Qin Zihang slept, there was an accident in the tenement building: a child, around five years old, fell from the fifth floor. Luckily, an awning softened the fall, and the child survived, though they were rushed to the hospital.

The corridor railings in the tenement weren’t very high. A kid on a stool could easily tumble over. Some parents ran errands, leaving their kids home alone. With no one around, the child might try to find an adult—or worse, unaware of the danger, climb onto a stool and fall right over.

That night, Song Fenglan got the story from Auntie Fatty.

"That kid got lucky—something broke the fall, so it wasn’t too serious, but they still need to stay in the hospital for observation," Auntie Fatty said. "The adults were all out, no one watching the kid. The mom figured the kid was napping when she went shopping, so she left them at home."

Auntie Fatty shuddered—five floors! The child just fell like that. She couldn’t help feeling grateful that Zhang Xiaohu had only fallen from a relatively low tree. If he'd fallen from the fifth floor, she couldn’t imagine what would’ve happened.

"The railings are too low," Song Fenglan said.

"Making them taller wouldn’t fix much unless the whole balcony was closed off," Auntie Fatty replied. "That kid was old enough to wander out on their own. Even inside, they could’ve fallen out—windows aren’t exactly childproof, are they?"

Auntie Fatty had seen those tenements. Some folks barred their windows; others didn’t bother.

"Families with children still need to be careful," said Auntie Fatty. "You don’t necessarily have to go grocery shopping only when the child is asleep—taking them along is also fine. Thankfully, we live in a single-story home. Sure, it’s got its downsides, but at least the kid won’t fall from the fifth floor."

"It’s a matter of probability," said Song Fenglan. "The problem was nobody was minding the kid, and none of the neighbors were around, so of course something happened."

"When a child is asleep, it’s hard to ask a neighbor to keep an eye on them," said Auntie Fatty. "You can’t just carry the child to the neighbor’s house and expect them to watch directly. Kids aren’t easy to raise, especially when you’re alone without help from grandparents. And if something happens to the child, who’s even to blame?"

"True," Song Fenglan nodded. That’s why she wanted Mrs. Su to keep a closer eye on Qin Zihang.

Grown-ups don’t always think of everything, and there are likely many oversights. But having someone watch the kid puts your mind at ease—there’s just less risk that way.

"After something like this happens, I wonder how that family feels—whether they’ll still want to live in that apartment building," said Auntie Fatty. "Back then, some people went out of their way to report others or act pitiful just to avoid living in single-story homes."

"They won’t consider moving to a single-story home. The accident happened because they weren’t careful enough—they’ll just be more cautious in the future," said Song Fenglan. "Most families’ kids don’t have accidents. You can’t just ignore the problem out of fear."

"Who knows about them? Let them be," said Auntie Fatty. She was just glad Zhang Xiaohu, troublemaker that he is, hadn’t gotten into worse trouble.

If the kid’s okay, no harm done. But if something does happen, the couple’s relationship will never be the same again. In the future, whenever they think back to this incident, they’ll inevitably blame each other.

"Right," Song Fenglan nodded. No matter the era, living in tall buildings means being extra careful—you’ve got to keep a close eye on the kids.

Auntie Fatty worried that Zhang Xiaohu might continue running and jumping around recklessly. She told her son to quit running off and climbing over the school railings. Schools have considerable height, and kids can climb if they really want to.

That’s the trouble with tall buildings—kids can’t fly, so grown-ups gotta teach ’em. But little ones don’t understand these dangers; they might think they can fly like birds.

In the evening, when Li Hui saw Guo Peng return, she brought up how his mom snatched the pastries.

"I only ate two pieces, and each was tiny," said Li Hui. "I didn’t know they were sent by Song Fenglan. If I had known, I wouldn’t have gone near ’em. Those pastries were so small—you could’ve stuffed one whole piece in your mouth in one bite. Your mom was so scared I’d hog ’em that she whisked ’em off to your sister’s room."

Li Hui was deeply dissatisfied with her mother-in-law’s actions.

"Your mother has a problem with me," Li Hui said. "Usually, when I see her, she clams up—just says my name and nothing else. Even when I went to visit Fan Yani, she was the same. Strangers’d think I was picking on Fan Yani. If we didn’t live so close, I wouldn’t even bother going over. But if I don’t, people call me cold-hearted. If I do go, your mom acts like this—it drives me nuts."

"Just tell me what you’re craving, and I’ll get it for you," Guo Peng said, thinking those pastries were Fan Yani’s to begin with—not theirs.

"Your mother—"

"She was worried Ya Ni would be upset," Guo Peng explained. "Mom didn’t want to take advantage of Ya Ni."

"Take advantage? How much advantage have we taken? It’s not like we’re mooching off ’em all the time," Li Hui retorted. "I’ve only been over more ’cause Fan Yani’s postpartum. Do you think I want to go? Seeing her baby just reminds me of the one I lost."

Back then, Li Hui never imagined she was pregnant. Had she known, she would’ve rested properly and skipped the college entrance exam. In the end, she didn’t pass anyway, scoring lower than Fan Yani, which fueled gossip about how she fell short.

Li Hui looked down at her stomach, missing that child dearly. She knew even if she hadn’t taken the exam, she might not have carried the baby to term. But she couldn’t help wondering—what if?

"Don’t dwell on it," Guo Peng said, sensing her sorrow. "That child wasn’t meant for us."

Guo Peng desperately wanted a child, but there was nothing to be done—what was lost was lost. They couldn’t live in the past, always thinking about that child. Knowing Li Hui struggled to conceive again made it even harder for him, but to avoid upsetting her, he couldn’t show it.

"Maybe it’s better this way—at least your mother won’t have to take care of me," Li Hui said. "If I asked her to, she’d be unwilling. She never wanted me as her daughter-in-law—she wanted Fan Yani. Fan Yani’s first child was a boy, and everyone praises her, saying her husband is lucky and you’re the unlucky one."

"Let ’em talk. I know I’m lucky," Guo Peng said. "Marrying you is the greatest blessing of my life."

"You always know just what to say to make me feel better," Li Hui said.

"I’m not just saying it," Guo Peng replied. "I mean every word."

Whenever Li Hui felt wronged outside, she’d confide in Guo Peng, seeking his comfort. But she didn’t just complain to him—if others asked, she’d also mention how Guo’s mother took the pastries away.

Li Hui thought she couldn’t complain about Song Fenglan, but surely she could say something about her mother-in-law?

Guo Peng didn’t think his mother was that stingy. The situation between their family, Fan Yani, and Song Fenglan was a bit complicated. His mother had been here for several days now, and she must’ve known what was going on, which was why she acted the way she did.

Meanwhile, Fan Yani talked to Yue Hongwei about the pastry incident. She didn’t think Guo’s mother was in the wrong, though snatching the pastries in front of Li Hui would naturally upset her.

“The pastries Fenglan gave were for our family, not for Sister-in-law,” Fan Yani said.

“Did she come over again?” Yue Hongwei asked.

“She probably only came to avoid gossip,” Fan Yani replied. “She didn’t do much—just sat there and made a few comments. Putting on airs like that. Honestly, I can’t stand her.”

Fan Yani thought even Gao Xiuxiu was better than Li Hui—at least she wouldn’t try to marry a married man. Li Hui wasn’t great to begin with. She married Guo Peng without even liking him and clearly had no interest in getting along with his family.

If Guo’s mother hadn’t come, she probably wouldn’t have even seen Li Hui.

“Forget her. Your brother…” Yue Hongwei didn’t have a good impression of Guo Peng. Li Hui might not have known about Guo Peng’s arranged child bride, but didn’t Guo Peng himself know? “Just focus on resting. Don’t dwell on these things.”

“It’s boring just lying around all day,” Fan Yani said.

“Want to read something?” Yue Hongwei asked.

“No thanks,” Fan Yani replied. “I’m not planning to retake the college entrance exam. I bombed it last time—it’d be the same if I tried again. If I couldn’t pass, I’ll just accept it. If I were just a few points short, I’d study harder, but as it is…”

“Read something else, then,” Yue Hongwei suggested.

“Like what? *Dream of the Red Chamber*? *Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio*?” Fan Yani said. “Those don’t interest me.”

In her previous life, Fan Yani had watched plenty of related TV dramas and fanfiction. After so much exposure, she couldn’t be bothered with the originals—not because they weren’t good, but because she didn’t consider herself particularly literary. She was just an ordinary person, not trying to be fancy.

Around seven in the evening, Song Fenglan received a call from Second Brother, who said he planned to visit her.

“You’re really coming?” Song Fenglan asked. “Second Brother, don’t mind what Zi Hang said. He—”

“You don’t want me to come?” Second Brother asked.

“It’s not that,” Song Fenglan replied. “It’s just a long way, and the train ride is uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. I want to see where you’re living now,” Second Brother said. “Mom and Dad miss you and want to visit too.”

As it happened, Song’s parents weren’t working, so they could make the trip. As for Second Brother, he could take time off.

“Then come, but be careful on the way,” Song Fenglan said. “If Mom and Dad come, take good care of them. They’re older and can’t handle too much strain. Book sleepers, not hard seats.”

“Don’t worry, we know,” Second Brother assured her. “If your place is too cramped, we can stay at a guesthouse.”

“There’s room. You can stay here,” Song Fenglan said. “We’ve got everything ready. Just come.”

“Is Uncle coming?” Qin Zihang stared at Song Fenglan.

“Yes, your uncle is coming,” Song Fenglan said, handing the phone to Qin Zihang.

“Uncle! Uncle!” Qin Zihang exclaimed. “Come play with me! I can write so many words now! And do math! Today, I planted a bayberry tree and a mango tree!”

Qin Zihang was overjoyed. When he visited his grandparents for New Year’s, his uncle had been very kind to him.

“Good, we’ll bring you some tasty treats,” Second Brother said.

“Uncle, we have lots of yummy food here too! Come and eat with us!” Qin Zihang giggled. “Mom made so many pastries—I ate so much I couldn’t move!”

"Your grandma said she'll make it for you after she arrives," Second Brother Song said.

"Yay! Okay!" Qin Zihang was very happy.

Qin Zihang chatted with Second Brother Song for a while before hanging up the phone.

"Mom, Mom, Uncle and Grandpa and Grandma are coming. Do we need to get the rooms ready?" Qin Zihang asked. "I can help straighten up, and I can even let them sleep in my room. I'll sleep with you and Dad."

Qin Yizhou glanced at Qin Zihang, suspecting the boy just wanted to sleep with them.

"You've got it all figured out," Qin Yizhou said.

"Grandpa and Grandma can have one room, Second Uncle can have another, and I'll share with you and Dad," Qin Zihang counted on his fingers.

There was also a small storage room in the house, but it wasn't suitable for a bed—it was just for storing miscellaneous items. The single-story house had three proper bedrooms, which was already quite good.

The combined area of the living room and bedrooms alone was over 1,000 square feet, not including the yard. This was one reason Song Fenglan liked bungalows—the all that space was great for storage and just felt good.

"You can sleep with your Second Uncle," Qin Yizhou said. "You've never shared a room with him before, right?"

"..." Qin Zihang widened his eyes, clearly not expecting this answer. He hadn't considered sleeping with his Second Uncle.

"If you don't sleep with your Second Uncle, he might feel you don't like him," Qin Yizhou said. "Rooming together would be perfect, don't you think?"

"I..." Qin Zihang couldn't possibly say he didn't like his Second Uncle. He turned to his mother, hoping she'd say something. Seeing her remain silent, he added, "Does Second Uncle kick off the blankets?"

"Hard to say," Song Fenglan replied.

"Hard to say?" Qin Zihang frowned.

"It's only for a few nights. You might not get another chance to sleep with your Second Uncle later," Qin Yizhou said. He thought that if it really didn't work out, he could still let their son sleep with him and Song Fenglan, but he didn't say that now.

"Okay, I'll sleep with Second Uncle," Qin Zihang quickly gave in. It was only for a few days, and he wanted to be good—he couldn't let his Second Uncle think he didn't like him. He really did like his Second Uncle. "My bed's plenty big."

Qin Yizhou had expected to need more persuasion, but Qin Zihang agreed so quickly.

"Dad, we need to tidy up the rooms and prepare one for Grandpa and Grandma," Qin Zihang said. "We need blankets, quilts, and soft bedding."

"As if I needed reminding," Qin Yizhou said.

Qin Yizhou was determined to make a good showing. He felt he hadn't provided much for Song Fenglan and their son, while the Song family had given them a lot. Now that the Song family was coming to visit, Qin Yizhou had to prepare everything properly—he couldn't wait until they arrived to start getting things ready.

"Mom, are you happy to see your mom?" Qin Zihang asked.

"Yes, very happy. How could I not be?" Song Fenglan said.

"I'm happy too when I'm with you, Mom," Qin Zihang said, resting his head on her lap. "I love you super duper much."

"..." Qin Yizhou watched Qin Zihang—this boy sure knew how to work his mom.

Song Fenglan's parents and Second Brother Song decided to go to Nan City, while the eldest brother and Sister Song stayed in the capital with their children. Aunt Tao was also in the capital. Before leaving for Nan City, Song Fenglan's mother visited Third Aunt Song.

Third Aunt Song lived alone in a standalone cottage. She kept a garden, and on nice days, she'd stretch out on a lawn chair in the yard; on bad days, she stayed indoors.

Usually, Third Aunt Song went out to buy groceries. With a fridge at home, she could stock up and didn’t need to go out every day. She'd turned into quite the homebody—now, she just wanted a quiet life without all the fuss.

"Coming to Nan City with us?" Song Fenglan's mother asked, looking at Third Aunt Song lying in the yard.

"Nope," Third Aunt Song said.

"Haven't your daughter and her family gone to the southern city too?" Mother Song knew a little, but not much, and she never asked further.

"Hmm, she's from the Tang family, not the Song family," Third Aunt Song replied. "If you go there, don’t bother with her or pay her any mind. The Tangs have never cared about us Songs or lifted a finger for us, so we owe them nothing in return."

Even though Tang Lu was Third Aunt Song’s biological daughter, her attitude remained unchanged.

How could anyone from the Tang family be any good?

Tang Lu had Tang blood in her—she didn't carry only Third Aunt Song’s lineage.

Third Aunt Song was cold toward all her children. She had no desire to travel around and preferred to stay put quietly. During her time at the farm, she had suffered greatly, so now basking in the sun was comfort enough.

"When you go, see Fenglan. She’s a good girl," Third Aunt Song said. She knew it was thanks to Song Fenglan that they had been able to leave the farm early and get their property back.

After all, those who were rehabilitated later often couldn’t retrieve what had once been theirs, even after repeated appeals—some just got the runaround. Others had been forced to “donate” their belongings, and even if it had been under duress, there was no getting them back now.

Third Aunt Song wasn’t foolish. She never claimed that because she had married into another family, she shouldn’t have suffered those hardships. She had long accepted that in this world, you’ve got to put yourself first. Being blindly selfless for others only led to disappointment—they wouldn’t do the same in return.

"Should you let the Qin family know?" Third Aunt Song asked.

"No plans to," Mother Song replied.

"If you say something later, they'll assume you're angling for gifts to bring along," Third Aunt Song scoffed. "They’re only slightly better than the Tangs, but not by much."

During those difficult years, it was understandable that Qin Yizhou’s parents had opposed his marriage to Song Fenglan. But the actions the Qin family took afterward were downright disgraceful.

"Keep your distance," Third Aunt Song advised. "They're nothing special."

Mother Song didn’t think her sister’s tone was harsh. After everything she’d been through, it was a miracle Third Aunt Song hadn’t gone completely mad. Mother Song had seen people who had—completely unhinged, hair wild, clothes all askew, laughing even as others struck them.

Sometimes, she wondered whether such people were truly mad or only pretending. Either way, their lives were miserable. She feared her own family might break under pressure, which is why elders had to endure and set an example—never bowing their heads.

No one made a point of telling the Qin family that the Songs were moving to the southern city. The Qins found out two days after the Songs had already left.

"They went to the southern city without saying anything?" Qin’s mother grumbled during a family gathering in the living room.

"Why should they? So we'd rush to put together gifts for Yi Zhou?" Qin’s second sister retorted. "Do the Songs need anything? They can easily bring whatever they want for their daughter."

Qin’s mother looked at her daughter, who always had a sharp tongue. Every time she spoke, her daughter shot back with something cutting, making her feel uneasy.

"We could send something for Zi Hang," Qin’s mother suggested.

"Oh? And what exactly did you prepare for him? If it’s not here already, would you run out to buy something now?" Qin’s second sister sneered. "People might think the Songs pressured you into it. Better not to deal with the hassle—no need to tell us at all."

"Whose daughter are you?" Qin’s mother snapped.

"Yours, yours," Qin’s second sister rolled her eyes. "And because I’m your daughter, I had to go to the countryside and suffer. The Songs, even in hard times, still managed to keep their daughters in the city. But you? You had the means to keep me home, yet sent me away just to save face—so others would praise your 'selflessness.'"

"You—" Qin’s mother clutched her chest, furious. "How dare you speak about your own family like this?"

"My words are still polite compared to what others might say," Qin’s second sister shot back. "Look at other families’ children, then look at ours. Take Tian Keshu’s two kids—they’re already headed down the wrong path. Mom, instead of sticking your nose in others' business, why don’t you focus on straightening them out?"