Chapter 83: Rushing Over, Building Two More Rooms

**Chapter 83: Rushing to Build Two More Rooms**

"Whether I deserve respect or not, I'm still her cousin. You're different—you're no longer her sister-in-law!" Jiang Yufei didn't take Tian Keshu seriously at all.

Tian Keshu clenched her fists. She couldn’t hit Jiang Yufei—she was afraid that if things escalated to the police station, Jiang Yufei, that loudmouth, would spread rumors again. If it were just a heated argument without involving the authorities, then it wouldn’t matter.

Over the years, Tian Keshu had gritted her teeth in hatred every time she thought of Jiang Yufei. It was because of Jiang Yufei that she got divorced. Even though the main reason was that her natal family had harbored a traitor, she still blamed Jiang Yufei.

"Do you think she’ll still acknowledge you as her cousin?" Tian Keshu said. "How dare you bring up how you treated her back then? It’s true I’m no longer her sister-in-law, but are you any better?"

"Whether I’m better or not—who are you to judge?" Jiang Yufei retorted. "You’re not my cousin—can you make decisions for her? Oh right, while my cousin was in postpartum recovery, you took all the good food and money to your natal family. Speaking of which, how are they treating you now? They must be treating you well, considering you abandoned your sister-in-law during her recovery just to ensure they had a better life."

"You—"

"Am I wrong? Don’t you know what you did?" Jiang Yufei pressed.

"I know, I know," Tian Keshu said through gritted teeth. "I know what I did, and you should also know very well what you did."

Seeing Jiang Yufei’s smug expression, Tian Keshu was so furious she wanted to rip her lips off. Jiang Yufei didn’t care whether Tian Keshu was boiling with rage inside or not. Seeing Tian Keshu only made her feel that her own situation wasn’t so bad after all. People needed comparisons to realize they were actually doing alright.

"Of course I know," Jiang Yufei said. "I need to go find my mom now. My mom helped take care of my cousin’s child, and my cousin even lived with my wife's family before. Unlike you—my cousin never even lived under the same roof as you. When she got married, you all refused to let her step foot in the house. Even if I didn’t want her staying with us, my mom still let her stay."

Jiang Yufei smirked and walked away.

Tian Keshu spat at Jiang Yufei’s retreating figure. Jiang Yufei was absolutely vile.

When Jiang Yufei arrived at the Jiang household, she danced around the subject with her aunt, bringing up other topics first to ease into the main issue.

"Mom, what’s Second Brother planning to do? What about his kids? Which school are they attending?" Jiang Yufei asked. "One of Second Brother’s kids is around the same age as Zi Hang, right?"

Her aunt knew her daughter too well—she never came by without an agenda.

"Just say it—get to the point," her aunt said. "Cut the nonsense."

"Mom, I’m just concerned about you all," Jiang Yufei said. "I was hoping you’d come with me to visit my cousin—Song Fenglan. She’s back now, and I can’t let our relationship remain broken forever. It reflects poorly on us. Can’t I just apologize to her?"

"Do you really think she’ll forgive you if you apologize?" Her aunt knew Song Fenglan’s temper too well—there was no way she’d forgive Jiang Yufei. "Forget about it."

The fact that Song Fenglan treated Jiang Yufei as nothing more than a barely-related acquaintance was already generous. If Jiang Yufei expected anything more, it was hopeless.

"Mom, I’m willing to swallow my pride—"

"It’s been so many years. What’s the point of swallowing your pride now?" her aunt said. "Giving gifts when someone's prosperous is easy, but she doesn’t need your gestures. You know Fenglan’s personality—she’s just like your aunt. If you push your way back in, you won’t gain anything. Stop worrying about whether she’ll forgive you. If you ever face real hardship, your aunt might still help you out. Otherwise, just leave things as they are."

Her aunt had no intention of taking Jiang Yufei to Song Fenglan’s house, nor did she want Jiang Yufei going alone. It would only make things awkward for everyone.

"Don’t make things difficult for her, and don’t make things difficult for yourself," her aunt said. "Don’t you know your own temperament? You might be willing to humble yourself now, but what about later? Did she ask you to do this?"

Her aunt didn’t want Jiang Yufei to complain later about how Song Fenglan remained unresponsive to her overtures. It was pointless. Jiang Yufei and Song Fenglan weren’t even sisters—even real sisters might cut ties after a fallout.

"I…" Jiang Yufei knew her own nature well. "But Fenglan’s Second Brother founded a business, didn’t he?"

"So now you’re eyeing their company?" her aunt said. "If that’s the case, forget about it. Your own Second Brother just opened a shop, and we don’t even know how business is going—it might not do well."

More and more people were opening shops now, and her aunt was worried.

Second Brother Jiang and his wife were Educated Youth, and they weren’t master chefs. Her aunt had gone to help, teaching them how to improve their dishes. But cooking skills couldn’t improve overnight, and they couldn’t just rely on buying pre-made buns and mantou to sell. As for opening a neighborhood convenience store, someone nearby had already done so—there was no guarantee of success.

It wasn’t that her aunt didn’t want her second son to earn a high salary, but they didn’t own a company. Expecting him to work at Second Brother Song’s company was unrealistic.

"They... looked pretty empty when I passed by. Maybe it wasn’t time for meals yet," Jiang Yufei said.

"Their cooking isn’t up to par," Aunt Yu sighed. "I’m afraid they won’t make it. If they can’t last, then they’ll have to think about doing something else."

Second Brother Jiang had been running his shop for over half a month. When Aunt Yu visited, business was nothing special—nowhere near good. To put it bluntly, without Aunt Yu cooking there, the food just didn’t taste good, and people weren’t into it. When Aunt Yu did come around, customers would even ask if she was the one cooking that day.

It wasn’t that Aunt Yu couldn’t handle the work, but she was swamped between family matters and managing the shop. If she kept helping Second Brother Jiang’s couple too much, her eldest son would raise a stink, thinking Aunt Yu was favoring them.

That’s how it is with many kids—it's not about having little, but about sharing fairly.

Aunt Yu tried her best to stay balanced, but it was incredibly hard. The slightest misstep, and things would tip the scales.

"Have them learn more from you," Jiang Yufei said. "If they don’t know how, let them learn."

"Can they really learn?" Aunt Yu asked. "Back in the day, I told you to learn baking and cooking, but you never applied yourself. Your pastries weren’t as good as Feng Lan’s."

"My stir-fries are better than hers," Jiang Yufei shot back.

"Your stir-fries are indeed a bit better," Aunt Yu admitted. "But look around—you’ll see how many women can cook well. You’re not outstanding; you don’t stand out at all."

Aunt Yu couldn’t help tutting in disapproval. None of the family members were particularly capable—they were all quite ordinary. If they were just a tad more competent, she wouldn’t be so worried.

At the research institute, the longer Ding Wenbo stayed, the more he understood Song Fenglan’s importance. Song Fenglan held serious clout—a position so high that someone who hadn’t even graduated from university already carried the title “Chief Engineer.” And she was so young.

When Ding Wenbo first heard people refer to her that way, he was dumbstruck.

“Engineer Song is young. She prefers being called ‘Engineer Song,’” a colleague clarified to Ding Wenbo. “It doesn’t make her sound too old.”

“…” Ding Wenbo had no words.

His mentor was next-level amazing—so impressive!

Then, Ding Wenbo crossed paths with Duan Yue—the same Duan Yue who had switched mentors. Duan Yue thought he’d found an excellent advisor, one who was working on projects at the institute and had brought him along to assist.

The institute was strapped for talent, especially since some people were still in university or simply not cutting it. As a result, professors often brought their graduate or doctoral students in to help out and provide extra guidance.

After arriving at the institute, Duan Yue realized just how formidable Song Fenglan was—even his own mentor showed her deferential respect. His mentor even joked, “Feel like you picked up a sesame seed but dropped a watermelon?”

Of course, Duan Yue couldn’t say that to his mentor’s face—he was too scared of getting heat. He just said he preferred his mentor’s research direction. In truth, his mentor knew exactly what he was thinking but chose not to press further.

When Duan Yue went to the dean demanding a mentor change and kicked up such a storm that most of his classmates knew about the supposed “injustice,” he effectively torched his chances of becoming Song Fenglan’s graduate student. And if he wanted to pursue a Ph.D., she wouldn’t take him either.

As for whether Duan Yue could even stay at the institute in the future—that was a whole other story.

“Happy?” Duan Yue plopped his tray down across from Ding Wenbo. If his mentor hadn’t brought him to the institute, if he’d never learned of Song Fenglan’s abilities, maybe he’d still be glad he changed mentors. But now, he just felt stupid.

The faculty had thought both Duan Yue and Ding Wenbo were strong students, which was why they wanted them under Song Fenglan’s supervision. Duan Yue had assumed she was incompetent, that she got her position through connections—and now here he was. He couldn’t help thinking that if the institute had explained how capable Song Fenglan was, he would’ve gladly followed her.

Not that he gave the dean a chance to explain. When Duan Yue stormed into the office, the dean had tried to clarify, but Duan Yue refused to listen.

“Happy,” Ding Wenbo nodded. “I’m my mentor’s first grad student—the only one in the first batch.”

How could Ding Wenbo not be happy? That made him the top dog, no competition. If Duan Yue had come along too, two wouldn’t have been bad—just meant more recognition down the road.

“Thanks to you, I’m this year’s lone wolf,” Ding Wenbo said. “Seriously, I’m grateful.”

He wasn’t just saying it. “Being the only one feels pretty good.”

In the lab, the others would mentor Ding Wenbo more. When Song Fenglan taught the rest, Ding Wenbo would also listen in. He realized how incredibly skilled Song Fenglan was and how lacking his own knowledge was. He wondered if he’d ever reach her level—perhaps never in his lifetime.

“…” Duan Yue gripped his chopsticks tightly.

“The experiments are a bit difficult to keep up with. But it’s fine. My advisor said learning is my top priority now,” Ding Wenbo said deliberately. “I just started grad school, and back in undergrad, I got into undergrad through recommendation. Because of that, my basics aren’t strong yet. If I keep studying, I’ll improve.”

“Does your advisor have time to teach you?” Duan Yue asked.

“If my advisor doesn’t have time, does that mean the people in her lab also have no time?” Ding Wenbo replied. “With three people, there’s always someone to learn from. You can’t always wait for your advisor to teach you. Can’t you learn on your own?”

“Then study hard,” Duan Yue said, feeling like a fool. Back then, he had even urged Ding Wenbo to switch advisors, but Ding Wenbo hadn’t done so.

“I do need to study hard,” Ding Wenbo said. “After all, I’m my advisor’s first student. Better days are ahead.”

Duan Yue felt a pang of regret. He had given up the chance to become Song Fenglan’s student, and now he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t afford to offend his current advisor, and Song Fenglan wouldn’t take him in either. It was eating him up inside.

“Eat up,” Ding Wenbo said. “We need to eat well so we have energy to work later. We might be pulling a late one tonight.”

“…” Duan Yue couldn’t taste the food as he watched Ding Wenbo eat with relish.

Song Fenglan didn’t bother with the conflicts between these students. She had no time to spare for them—she was swamped with work. She didn’t understand why they had so many unresolved issues. She was either heading to meetings, putting out fires, in the lab, or crunching numbers.

By evening, Song Fenglan was so exhausted she barely wanted to move, but she still had to go home to rest properly. Just as she was about to leave the office, someone brought over a stack of documents. Well, back to work it was.

Qin Yizhou didn’t see Song Fenglan return home. Checking the time, he knew she was working late. Since returning to the capital, she’d been pulling way more overtime.

When Song Fenglan finally got home, it was already past nine, nearing ten.

“Working late again?” Qin Yizhou asked.

“Yes, overtime,” Song Fenglan nodded. “There were some piled-up work to resolve. I’ll take a shower and change first.”

“I’ll cut some fruit for you. There are also hot buns and milk on the table,” Qin Yizhou said.

“Okay, they can wait,” Song Fenglan replied. It was hot out—the food could stand to cool off. No need to eat it all at once.

After showering and changing, Song Fenglan sat down at the table to eat.

“Is Zi Hang asleep?” she asked.

“Yes, he just went to bed,” Qin Yizhou answered. “Before sleeping, he asked, ‘Did Mom work late again today?’”

“It’s just a busy stretch. It’ll ease up soon,” Song Fenglan said. “It’s not like I choose how busy I am. When work piles up, I’ve gotta put in the time. When there’s less, I can come home earlier.”

She wished she could return home sooner to rest, but the workload was overwhelming. Still, she had to push through and get things done. Someone had to solve these problems—they couldn’t just pile up indefinitely.

The main advantage Song Fenglan had was her memories from her past life, allowing her to resolve issues quickly. She was building on past knowledge, knowing the right paths without endless trial and error. Most people in this era lacked that knowledge and had to feel their way through trial and error.

“It’s fine, focus on your work,” Qin Yizhou said. “Zi Hang understands. He even said he wants to follow in your footsteps. Then you won’t have to work late—he’ll do it instead.”

“Him?” Song Fenglan felt warmth in her heart at the thought of her son. “We’ll see how he turns out. Hopefully, he won’t change his mind and decide my field isn’t for him.”

Kids get rebellious as they grow up, forming their own opinions.

Song Fenglan didn’t insist that her son follow her career path. What mattered was what he loved—what truly interested him.

“Have some milk,” Qin Yizhou said. “You’ve been losing weight lately.”

“I’m not wasting away yet. It’s fine,” Song Fenglan replied. “Didn’t I say? Once this busy period is over, things will get better.”

"Yes, yes," Qin Yizhou said. "You just focus on your work, but don’t wear yourself out."

"Don’t worry, I’ll be careful," Song Fenglan replied. "How’s Zi Hang doing at school?"

"He’s doing great. He says lots of kids want to be his friend—he’s really thriving," Qin Yizhou said. "He seems happy, always smiling."

"That’s good," Song Fenglan said. "At lunchtime, I’ll be swamped with work—might not even have time to check on him."

Song Fenglan had originally started doing all this just so her son wouldn’t get picked on. But now that she’d begun, she found herself wanting to do more—to solve more problems.

"He knows you’re busy," Qin Yizhou said. "He doesn’t need you checking on him constantly. We’re family. There’ll be plenty of time to see each other."

In Nan City, Zhang Xiaohu found school a lot less fun without Qin Zihang around. He missed all the fun they used to have together. Qin Zihang was quick-witted and always made sure no one pushed Zhang Xiaohu around. If anyone did try, Qin Zihang would figure out how to fight back.

Zhang Xiaohu still hung out with Tian Junhua sometimes, but it just wasn’t the same.

When Zhang Xiaohu got home from school, he didn’t even glance toward the neighbor’s house. He just didn’t click with the neighbor kids. Some say roughhousing brings kids together, but not Zhang Xiaohu—he refused to play with them. He’d rather do homework than hang out with those kids.

The neighbors had heard that Song Fenglan and her husband often had Auntie Fatty’s family over for meals—they were really close with them. One neighbor thought they were being taken for a ride. Their own family might not even have enough food, and here they were feeding others?

This was just wrong!

That neighbor also thought Auntie Fatty’s family liked to take advantage and kept their distance. Auntie Fatty got the hint and kept her own distance too.

Li Hui and her husband didn’t have children. Li Hui often danced in the courtyard with other women. Some whispered that they only danced when men were watching—dancing energetically if there were men around, resting when there weren’t.

When Guo Peng heard these whispers, he wasn’t happy. He brought it up with Li Hui, who smacked her chopsticks down on the table.

"I haven’t even accused you of fooling around with other women, and you’re already giving me grief about dancing? You know I used to dance professionally—what’s the big deal if I dance now?" Li Hui snapped coldly.

"I don’t mind the dancing," Guo Peng said, frowning, "but you’ve got to ignore the gossip. People are saying you’re dancing just to catch men’s attention."

"That’s nonsense!" Li Hui shot back. "We’re just dancing where everyone can see us—it’s not like we’re dancing for any particular man. People just love to talk. Are you actually going to believe them?"

"You know how talk spreads," Guo Peng said.

"You weren’t worried about gossip when you married me," Li Hui countered. "I danced in front of soldiers before—mostly men. Was that dancing for men too?"

"That’s different," Guo Peng insisted.

"How is it different?" Li Hui demanded. "What’s really going on with you? Are you seeing someone else? Are you picking fights just so you can leave me? I even took in a kid for you—what more do you want?"

Guo Peng knew Li Hui hadn’t adopted that kid for him. The girl was her niece, and Li Hui barely looked after her—the child's mother did most of the care.

Though his mother hadn’t told Guo Peng to take the child away, he could feel the distance between them. After all, without blood ties, how could there be a natural bond?

He didn’t feel close to Li Hui’s niece. Even though she called him Dad, there was always this wall between them—one he couldn’t break through.

"Guo Peng, have some decency," Li Hui said. "I even had a miscarriage for you once. And now you’re acting like this? Dancing is my only joy—I’m not chasing men. But you? That time I found long hair on your clothes—you said it came from home. You know exactly where it came from."

Guo Peng’s stomach twisted. He just hated the idea of Li Hui dancing where other men could see her. He never saw her dance at home, and he was at work all day—how could he go watch her in the courtyard?

Folks would tease, “Your wife putting on another show for the boys?” How was he supposed to respond?

Li Hui hadn’t stayed with the performance troupe. Without a job, she danced in the courtyard trying to draw attention, to make people look at her. She was a married woman—this just wasn’t how a married woman should act.

"I haven’t been with other women," Guo Peng said finally.

"You haven't found another woman, and I haven’t found another man!" Li Hui said. "I dare to swear—do you?"

"I dare!" Guo Peng had no reason not to. He truly hadn’t sought another woman; Li Hui was his only one.

"Big talk," Li Hui rolled her eyes. "Swearing is just words. Who knows if the heavens are even listening?"

Li Hui was inherently a rather selfish and independent woman. Even without a job, she still had a tight grip on Guo Peng’s paycheck. Guo Peng loved Li Hui and was willing to fork over most of his paycheck to her. They had bought their house for good with their own money. Most of their money went to putting food on the table.

Guo Peng gave very little to his parents now, unlike before. He also had his mother help raise the child, yet the amount he contributed remained small. His mom didn’t make a fuss about it, and neither did Fan Yani.

Fan Yani simply felt sorry for the little girl—a few extra mouthfuls weren’t a big deal. The girl didn’t always get new clothes either, often wearing hand-me-downs, just like Fan Yani’s own children. Besides, for a child who wasn’t hers by blood, Fan Yani treated her quite well. Someone else might’ve kicked the kid out by now.

Niu Cuihua and her husband ran a small restaurant, mainly serving noodles, dumplings, and home-style dishes, including set meals. Fan Yani was the one who put them up to it, thinking of those “Sha County-style” street eats from her past life. Since Niu Cuihua’s hometown was similar to where such eateries originated, Fan Yani thought it was a perfect way for her to use her skills.

Sometimes when Fan Yani didn’t cook, she’d eat at Niu Cuihua’s place—but she always paid. Niu Cuihua and her husband insisted she didn’t have to, but Fan Yani refused, saying she’d feel too guilty otherwise. Eventually, they finally agreed to let her pay less. After all, they owed opening the shop to Fan Yani and her husband’s help.

As for the child Guo Peng and Li Hui had adopted, Niu Cuihua and her husband weren’t heartless—they didn’t begrudge her a meal. They all knew the truth: Li Hui’s family had essentially abandoned the girl by sending her away.

It was downright scary that adoptive parents could think bringing a child to the city was enough kindness. What kids needed was parental care—adoptive parents were parents too.

Niu Cuihua and her husband didn’t regret not giving their own child to Guo Peng’s family. If they had, the child would likely still be raised by Guo Peng’s mother, and their own child would surely have suffered.

When Guo Peng and Li Hui argued, they ignored their adopted daughter completely.

Yue Hongwei never questioned why Guo Peng’s mother hadn’t given the child to them. Having been an orphan himself, he understood the pain. Though this girl technically wasn’t an orphan, she wasn’t much better off.

"We’re staying here long-term. Can we buy the house?" Fan Yani asked.

"Buy it?" Yue Hongwei was puzzled.

"Yeah," Fan Yani said. "Like your brother—we can buy it for good. That should work here, right?"

"It does," Yue Hongwei nodded.

"Then let’s do it. We’ve got more people now—our two kids, your brother’s adopted daughter, and your mom," Fan Yani explained. "Once your younger brother and his wife settle down, your dad will come too. Your mom helps us with the kids, so it makes sense she stays here. Three rooms won’t cut it. There’s space in the courtyard—we can build a couple more rooms."

Fan Yani had considered adding two or three floors, but they couldn’t tear the whole place down yet. Most people just expanded within their courtyards. She wanted to finalize the plan soon—tight quarters would do, just enough for the kids to sleep.

She didn’t plan on having more kids, especially with the one-child policy around the corner. Since Yue Hongwei was in the military, they couldn’t break the rules. Two kids were perfect—they’d have each other’s backs. Once Yue Hongwei’s father arrived, his parents might not stay permanently, or maybe just for a while.

Niu Cuihua and her husband had mentioned renting a bigger place once they settled, so Yue Hongwei’s parents could live there. Housing for them wasn’t her concern—it was Guo Peng’s adopted daughter who couldn’t go with them. Fan Yani wanted the girl to stay with them, especially since there was a school nearby and Guo Peng’s family lived close by. Signing her up for school would be a breeze.

She figured Guo Peng wouldn’t stiff them on enrollment fees—the child carried his surname after all.

"That settles the house business," Yue Hongwei said.

Fan Yani wasn’t the only one with this idea. Others planning to stay long-term felt the same. But those moving elsewhere or short on cash saw no point—why spend when housing was free? They might not even stay.

At school, Qin Zihang made new friends—kids flocked to him.

Coming home one day, he was surprised to find his mom there. After dinner, he excitedly told her about school.

"They grilled me about Nan City," Qin Zihang said. "I told them Xiao Hu was my best friend, and how much fun we had there. They asked what we did for fun. I said the cockroaches in Nan City were bigger than in the capital! They wouldn’t let up—'How big?' 'Were you scared?' 'Did you see crickets?'"

"Did you answer?" Song Fenglan asked.

"Of course! They were eating it up," Qin Zihang waved his hands. "If I didn’t tell them, they’d keep asking. So I did—and they loved it! It was like storytelling. They huddled around my desk like I was some celebrity."

Qin Zihang felt like the center of the universe. His classmates kept asking questions, and he answered every one. If he didn’t know something, he owned up to it. He never lied—he knew that was wrong.

"They said they’d never been down south, and they want to go too," Qin Zihang said. "I told them they could apply to schools in the south later. The south has tons of great colleges. Mom, you went to college down south, not in the capital."

"..." Song Fenglan thought to herself that most parents would prefer their children study nearby, but not necessarily. Some might even be thinking of sending their kids overseas.

After all, during the 1980s and 90s, there was this huge study-abroad craze, and many people sent their children overseas. Those who came back then could still cash in big time, but later on, it became much harder.

In the future, there would be too many returning overseas students—some just going abroad for superficial prestige without much real ability, just coasting by. There were indeed outstanding international students, but they were fewer in number. Many students were simply from wealthy families who wanted to send them out.

Even Song Fenglan herself thought it wouldn’t hurt if Qin Zihang studied abroad someday. There were many things worth learning overseas, though it depended on whether foreign universities would allow them to study certain subjects. Some foreign institutions blocked them from sensitive majors, fearing they might return home and conduct research.

People say science is borderless, but scientists have borders—and so do universities.

"You’re thinking of studying at a university in the capital yourself, so why are you telling them to go south?" Song Fenglan asked.

"They’ve never been there, but I have," Qin Zihang replied. "They can go see for themselves when they grow up."

You know what? Qin Zihang had a point.

Some people just don’t want to stay in one city forever, so when it comes time for college, they might choose schools elsewhere. Some even passed up better schools just to get farther away from home.

The kids were just joking around—no big deal.

The college entrance exam was a huge deal, and parents would surely have already picked schools for their kids—though not this early.

Without her aunt’s company, Jiang Yufei didn’t approach Song Fenglan. She was still kinda worried Song Fenglan might blow her off, which would make her feel like she was being pushy where she wasn’t welcome. That would really bother her.

Over the weekend, Aunt Song dropped by with some treats for Song Fenglan and Qin Zihang.

"Auntie," Song Fenglan greeted, motioning for her to sit.

"Auntie," Qin Zihang called out, eyeing the food in the bamboo basket on the table. "Is this for us?"

"Yeah, for you," Aunt Song smiled. "Just checking in on you."

Aunt Song hadn’t visited her own grandchildren or children—she came straight to Song Fenglan’s place. She really looked up to Song Fenglan and often brought her the best things she had.

Aunt Song’s eldest son, daughter-in-law, and others knew about her actions, and Tang Shaotao and the rest were obviously ticked off. But the items belonged to Aunt Song, and she could hand them out to whoever she wanted. Tang Shaotao and the others couldn’t stop her.

Previously, when the Tang family made an extra call to Song Fenglan’s home, they got called in by the authorities for a little chat. Naturally, they wouldn’t dare provoke Song Fenglan again.

Tang Shaotao’s wife, Mrs. Tang, simply thought Aunt Song was too biased—favoring her niece over her own children. How could that be?

"Your mother sends all the good stuff to your cousin, and we get nothing," Mrs. Tang griped. "Is her niece gonna take care of her when she’s old?"

"..." Tang Shaotao sat in the room, just as annoyed but couldn’t do squat about it.

"Your mother’s truly stubborn," Mrs. Tang said. "I took the kids over, and it was raining, but she still wouldn’t let us in. Just told us to go back—didn’t even care if the kids caught colds from the rain."

"Don’t go when it’s raining," Tang Shaotao said.

"I thought maybe she’d soften up, but her heart’s harder than stone," Mrs. Tang complained. "She didn’t bat an eye seeing her grandkids soaked through."

Mrs. Tang got all worked up just thinking about it. Aunt Song had plenty of money and property, yet she refused to give any to the Tang family. With so many Tangs crammed into one place, it wasn’t convenient. When Mrs. Tang brought it up, Aunt Song accused her of eyeing her house.

Mrs. Tang wanted Aunt Song to voluntarily give them money and property, not to have to beg for it. She had been coveting Aunt Song’s possessions for a long time. If Aunt Song hadn’t given anything to others, it might have been bearable. But she treated Song Fenglan’s family too well. Song Fenglan was a married-out daughter of the Song family, not even Aunt Song’s nephew. Weren’t sons supposed to be more valued? But Aunt Song didn’t follow that rule.

"She really isn’t afraid you won’t take care of her when she’s old," Mrs. Tang said. "When she gets older, will the Song family even look after her?"

"Who knows? Beats me," Tang Shaotao didn’t want to discuss it.

"What's your cousin Song Fenglan really thinking?" Mrs. Tang asked. "She's not after your mom’s stuff, is she? That stuff’s worth good money—it should go to you siblings, not her. Don’t you think you should have a word with Song Fenglan?"

When Second Brother Song held his wedding banquet, the Song family didn't invite the Tangs, so they stayed away.

During Song Fenglan’s time back in the capital, the Tang family didn’t approach her directly but kept a close eye on Third Aunt Song’s behavior. They acted like her property was theirs for the taking and couldn’t stop thinking about those valuable items.

"Have a word about what?" Tang Shaotao replied. "Mom’s still alive and well—what’s there to talk about?"

"Your mother keeps bringing big and small bags over there. Who knows what treasures she’s hiding inside," Mrs. Tang said. "At this rate, she’ll clean us out completely. Honestly, if she likes girls so much, it’s not like she doesn’t have daughters or granddaughters. Why’s she gotta spoil some niece rotten?"

Mrs. Tang ranted endlessly, trying to push Tang Shaotao to confront Song Fenglan. But he balked—he thought it made him look petty, a grown man fussing over such things with a woman.

"It's just fruits and pastries—nothing valuable," Tang Shaotao said.

"Valuables can easily be hidden in those bags," Mrs. Tang countered. "You think she’d be dumb enough to flash the goodies around?"

Mrs. Tang couldn’t stop wondering how many treasures Song Fenglan had already taken from Third Aunt Song. "For our kids’ future, you’ve got to ask her. Some things aren’t meant for her—she better cough it all up!"

That was Mrs. Tang’s bottom line. Ideally, Song Fenglan would quietly hand everything over without Third Aunt Song ever finding out—that way, she wouldn’t get angry or try to take anything back.

"I told you, I can’t ask. It’s just not possible," Tang Shaotao insisted.

"Invite her out to eat. We’ll talk nice and calm," Mrs. Tang suggested. "If she’s got any decency, she’ll know what to do."

Back home, Song Fenglan felt her nose twitch. She had just seen Third Aunt Song off after lunch and even asked if she wanted to visit her mother, but Third Aunt Song declined.

"Fall’s coming early this year," Song Fenglan mused, unaware that someone was talking trash behind her back—or that someone was getting ready to come after her.

Mrs. Tang was sweating bullets at the thought of Third Aunt Song leaving all the best things to Song Fenglan. If her husband wouldn’t go talk to her, then she’d do it herself. She needed to put Song Fenglan in her place—Third Aunt Song’s belongings should go to her own children and grandchildren. Song Fenglan was just a niece, and no matter how close, blood beats water every time.