Chapter 86: Forgetting, The Lost Diploma

Chapter 86: Forgetting the Lost Diploma

“It’s all their fault!” Li Hui didn’t think it was her problem at all. “What’s wrong with me eating a chicken leg? Can’t I eat one?”

Father Guo couldn’t care less to argue with Li Hui. She truly only thought of herself and never considered others. If Li Hui had been diligent in daily life, it might have been tolerable, but the issue was she never bothered to help Fan Yani or Niu Cuihua’s families. Li Hui only liked taking advantage of others. Even after benefiting, she still looked down on them as “country bumpkins,” believing they were only fit for menial work.

“No one said you couldn’t eat it. No one took the chicken leg from your bowl,” Guo’s mother said. “If you want to eat, just eat quietly. Stop talking.”

Guo’s mother didn’t want to make the atmosphere even more tense. It was rare for everyone to gather for the reunion dinner, yet Li Hui insisted on acting this way. As for Fan Yani offering chicken and duck legs to the elderly and children, there was nothing wrong with that. In the countryside, filial people acted just like Fan Yani, though most elders would give the meat to their grandchildren.

Guo’s mother had also considered letting the grandchildren eat, but Fan Yani signaled her to take it, so she did. After staying with Fan Yani for so long, Guo’s mother’s mindset had shifted somewhat—one must also care for themselves and not completely neglect their own needs. A person should also know gratitude and not always think about personal gain. How could one constantly focus on benefits every single moment?

Li Hui rolled her eyes and helped herself to another piece of duck meat. She wasn’t about to storm off in anger—after all, their family had paid for the meal, so they had every right to eat their fill.

“Eat,” Li Hui said, pushing some meat into Guo Peng’s bowl. “Got it? Just for this meal.”

“Let’s eat,” Guo Peng replied, not wanting the situation to escalate further.

Fan Yani glanced at Guo Peng. This was how he always acted when it came to Li Hui—completely wrapped around her finger.

Because Qin Mother’s precious eldest grandson had been wronged, Qin Lian was fuming. His mother hadn’t stood up for him and even paid compensation—didn’t that imply he was at fault? Worried her precious grandson would stay upset, Qin Mother made sure to give him a chicken leg.

“The chicken leg is tender. Eat up,” Qin Mother said.

You Yun didn’t insist on giving her child chicken or duck legs—having meat at all was enough. Second Sister Qin didn’t take any either. If her child wanted some, she’d prepare something later.

“The other one is mine too!” Qin Lian blurted out.

He glanced at You Yun’s son. Though the child was younger, he could already eat meat. Qin Lian simply didn’t want his little brother to have any chicken legs—he wanted them all for himself.

You Yun couldn’t be bothered to argue. Qin Lian’s petty thoughts were obvious to her.

“Eat, they’re all yours,” Qin Mother coaxed.

Qin Father stayed silent. As long as the meal passed peacefully without further issues, that was enough. Second Sister Qin understood her father’s mindset—sometimes turning a blind eye spared unnecessary trouble.

After the reunion dinner, Second Sister Qin’s family didn’t stay for the New Year’s Eve watch. She didn’t want to hear Qin Lian call her husband a “junkman.” Before, when her husband had worked at a reclamation center, Qin Lian had openly mocked him with disdain. Her husband, being a grown man, didn’t take it to heart—after all, his job had been arranged by Eldest Brother Qin. If a child wanted to say a few words, so be it.

Her husband might not have cared, but if it had been Song Fenglan, she would’ve left immediately. Second Sister Qin’s husband was from the countryside, a farmer through and through. He knew he didn’t fit in with the city folks in the capital, so he tried his best to consider his wife’s feelings and not embarrass her.

If a grown man argued with a child, people would call him petty and wonder why Second Sister Qin had married such a useless man.

Now, Second Sister Qin’s husband worked as campus security at her school. People often remarked how lucky he was to have married well—implying he was a kept man. He understood their meaning but never confronted them. At home, he never took his frustrations out on his wife either. He knew his own limitations, and the fact that his wife hadn’t left him was already a blessing.

Many sent-down youths who returned to take the college entrance exams abandoned their spouses and children, cutting ties completely—let alone caring for their former partners.

“Younger brother not coming was the right choice,” Second Sister Qin remarked as she walked home with her husband and child. “Mom is just too biased. She always says since Lian and his sister don’t have their birth mother around and now have a new mother, she needs to make it up to them. But is it really ‘making it up’? She’s coddling them to ruin.”

She had spoken to Qin Mother before, but her mother refused to change her attitude toward her precious grandson. She even believed everyone around them was bullying him.

“You can’t control it,” her husband said.

“I won’t bother. He’s not my own son. If I interfere, people will just say I’m overstepping,” Second Sister Qin replied. “I’ve said my piece, and so has my aunt. It’s useless. Mom is convinced her precious grandson has been wronged. She says he’ll face many restrictions in the future and that adult issues shouldn’t involve children. But when it comes to him, she makes an exception—yet with Zi Hang, it’s completely different.”

Seeing how much Qin Mother doted on Qin Lian left Second Sister Qin fed up. No wonder Song Fenglan refused to visit the Qin family now—what was the point? To watch how Qin Mother spoiled her precious grandson?

“Once someone develops bias, it’s hard to change,” Second Sister Qin said. “Mom has pampered her precious grandson for so long—how could she suddenly stop? However well my sister-in-law acts or how much she does, it’s pointless. From the very beginning, Mom pegged her as a gold-digger who trapped my brother into marriage.”

"Don't say it," Qin’s second brother-in-law thought. He knew how formidable Song Fenglan and her husband were—if they heard such talk, they’d definitely be upset.

"I didn’t say anything. Do I look like a busybody?" Second Sister Qin said.

"Not really," Qin’s second brother-in-law replied.

"Then there you go," she said. "If we need something, we can ask Yi Zhou, but don’t drag Sister-in-law into it. She doesn’t owe us anything, and neither does my brother. The only reason he helps is because he’s my brother."

Second Sister Qin believed everyone had their own families to manage and needed some boundaries. But her mother acted like everyone should prop up Eldest Brother Qin—how could that ever work?

Eldest Brother Qin’s fate was sealed. It wasn’t that Second Sister Qin wanted to speak harshly—it was just that facts spoke louder than words.

Meanwhile, after dinner, Song Fenglan and the others didn’t go home but stayed at the Song house to keep watch for the New Year. Cao Fang was pregnant and couldn’t stay up late, so Song’s second brother took her home first.

They all lived on the same street, their houses close together, so getting around was easy.

Qin Zihang was having a blast playing with his cousins, stacking blocks. Song Heng wanted to see if he could outdo his little sister. As it turned out, Song Heng wasn’t as good at building blocks as she was.

Later in the evening, they had some late-night snacks—grilled meat like lamb chops, beef, pork belly, mushrooms, and more, all flavored with Mom Song’s secret spice mix.

"Are there any roasted sweet potatoes?" Qin Zihang asked.

Back in Nan City, Song Fenglan used to roast sweet potatoes for him all the time. Auntie Fatty had a green thumb for growing sweet potatoes and yams, and would often pack some for Song Fenglan’s family. Since Zhang Xiaohu ate there often, Auntie Fatty always threw in extra—as if saving some for Zhang Xiaohu’s share.

"Sweet potatoes?" Song’s mother looked at Qin Zihang. "Do you like roasted ones?"

"They’re alright," he said. "They’re kind of sweet and taste pretty good."

Song’s mother never liked sweet potatoes much. Back on the farm, she’d had her fill of them—cornmeal, dried sweet potato slices, and the like, boiled together with rice bran. She’d choked them down for days on end. After returning to the capital, she hardly touched them. Occasionally she might snack on dried sweet potato, but not often—she’d rather have pastries any day.

"Then let’s roast some," Song’s mother said, turning to Auntie Tao. "Do we have any at home?"

"We do," Song’s eldest sister said. "I bought some."

She hadn’t bought them for Song’s mother or the others—she figured she and the kids might like a bite. Not that she was trying to save money; she’d grown up eating them, and though they felt heavy sometimes, they still hit the spot now and then.

"I’ll go get them," she said. "I got small ones—they’re easier to roast over charcoal."

"Thanks, Big Sister," Song Fenglan said. "Eating this kind of thing once in a while is actually good for you."

She didn’t question why Song’s eldest sister still craved simple food like sweet potatoes. Sweet potatoes were still food—no need to look down on them.

"Hang tight," Song’s eldest sister smiled. "We’ll roast a few extra so everyone can try."

Song’s eldest sister and Auntie Tao fetched the sweet potatoes and roasted them in the fire pit in the courtyard. No hassle doing it in their own yard.

"Zihang loves roasted ones—steamed ones don’t do it for him," Song Fenglan said.

"Don’t just talk about him—you’re just as picky with sweets," Song’s mother said. "When I give you pastries, you sniff them first, take a nibble, and only go back if it’s good. If it’s not, you walk away."

"Well of course," Song Fenglan said. "Why would I torture myself by eating something I don’t like? That’s just asking for trouble."

"Look at you—you're exactly the same, yet you still give Hangbao a hard time," Song’s mother said.

Everyone gathered around the fire pit—those who wanted more grilled meat kept eating, while those who got chilly headed inside. It was freezing out, even in thick coats. But grilling indoors just didn’t cut it.

When the sweet potatoes were done, Song Fenglan had Qin Yizhou break one open. She only ate half—didn’t want too much.

The roasted sweet potatoes were fragrant and sweet, with slightly charred skins that peeled off easily. Unlike steamed ones, they weren’t soggy—just the right amount of moisture. So good you kept going back for more.

Song Fenglan was worried about overheating, so she didn’t eat much. After the New Year, she had to go back to work—there would still be meetings and talks to give to her colleagues. Although she didn’t teach undergraduates or mentor large groups of students at a university, she still had to mentor a few colleagues at the research institute. She was also worried spicy or greasy food might affect her voice.

“Drink some water,” Qin Yizhou said, handing her a cup.

“Let her get it herself,” Song’s mother couldn’t help but interject. Qin Yizhou was like an overly attentive caretaker—whatever Song Fenglan needed, he’d hand it to her right away. Not many men could be as devoted as him, and Song’s mother worried he might grow resentful later, which is why she spoke up.

“It’s fine. When I’m with her, doing small things makes me feel useful,” Qin Yizhou replied. “Honestly, sometimes I feel like a kept man.”

He said it jokingly, but he truly admired his wife’s abilities. He wasn’t unhappy—he was proud. Helping her out, even in small ways, made him feel like he mattered.

Song’s mother hadn’t expected that kind of response. Well then, maybe she should just stay out of it—it was a match made in heaven, after all.

“Mom, do you want some grilled corn?” Qin Zihang offered a piece to Song Fenglan.

“You eat it,” she told him.

After finishing their snacks and staying up for New Year’s Eve, Song Fenglan’s family of three finally went to bed.

Just as she lay down, Song Fenglan suddenly remembered something: she still hadn’t received her diploma and degree. By now, Nan Cheng University should’ve mailed them to the research institute already. Why hadn’t they arrived yet?

“What’s wrong?” Qin Yizhou sat up when he saw her suddenly sit up too.

“Where are my diploma and degree?” Song Fenglan asked him. “I hadn’t gotten them at work before the holiday. I gave them the institute’s address—they should’ve sent them there directly.”

“They haven’t come yet?” Qin Yizhou asked. How had she forgotten something so important until now?

“No, I haven’t seen them,” Song Fenglan said. “It’s okay. I’ll check at work in a few days. If they’re not there, maybe they got lost in transit…”

After all, in her past life, people had even managed to lose diplomas and degrees through the mail—let alone now.

“If they’re lost, we can get duplicates,” Qin Yizhou suggested.

“But getting new ones just for me isn’t realistic,” Song Fenglan replied. “I hope they turn up. I don’t want to end up with just an official letter from the school instead.”

She’d been too busy to remember—only tonight, while preparing for bed, did it finally pop into her mind.

“Relax, they’ll turn up,” Qin Yizhou reassured her.

“I hope so,” Song Fenglan said.

Guo Peng and Li Hui didn’t stay up with Guo’s parents for the New Year’s celebration. The couple left early—if they hadn’t, Li Hui probably would’ve started arguing with them.

“Your mom doesn’t like me, and your dad doesn’t either,” Li Hui said after holding it in for a while. She was too angry to stay quiet any longer.

Guo Peng had already fallen asleep but was jolted awake by Li Hui, forced to listen to her complaints.

“You don’t like them either, do you?” Guo Peng mumbled, still groggy from being woken in the middle of a dead sleep.

Lately, he’d been working overtime. With so many people lighting fireworks, incidents kept popping up, and there were concerns about people messing around at the Grain Bureau. Since he worked there, he naturally had to pull extra shifts.

He was exhausted and needed rest—he still had more patrols and late nights ahead. If grain went missing or problems arose, they’d all catch hell.

“They don’t like me, so why should I like them?” Li Hui snapped. “Did you see what happened tonight? I ate one chicken leg—not the whole chicken—and they gave me dirty looks. I almost walked out on the spot, but since we chipped in money, I stayed. If I had left, they’d have called me temperamental behind my back.”

“That’s just how they are,” Guo Peng muttered, eyes still closed.

“Are you even listening to me?” Li Hui shook his arm again. She’d already turned on the light and saw his eyes were still shut. “There are so many of them, but they chip in less. Shouldn’t they do more? And still have the nerve to say I don’t contribute? Do they have no shame?”

"Unbelievable, just unbelievable." Guo Peng could only open his eyes. "Are you finished? If so, let's sleep!"

"I'm not done!" Li Hui snapped. "They're taking advantage of us just because we don't have kids..."

"We have a daughter," Guo Peng replied. "Your niece."

"My niece... You never treated her as your own daughter," Li Hui retorted. "Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re thinking. 'My niece, my niece'—that’s all you ever say. We agreed she’s our daughter, but you never treated her that way!"

"Why bring her here then?" Guo Peng asked.

"..." Li Hui grew even more upset at this. "Why bring her here? Your mother takes care of Fan Yani’s child, your brother’s child—can’t she help us with ours too? Just because we don’t have our own kid, we get the short end of the stick? Let me tell you, I insist on having my niece—my daughter—stay with your mother. She damn well better take care of her!"

Li Hui didn’t want to raise the child herself. She felt her current life was fine—she could go dancing when she had time, buy the food she liked, and dress nicely. If the child were around, she’d have to look after her more, and she thought she’d lose her mind. The child would just keep calling, "Mom, mom!"

Calling for her over every little thing, and when something happened, she’d have to solve it.

Drives me crazy!

If it were her own daughter, maybe she’d bother raising her, but since she didn’t, she refused to take on the responsibility. She didn’t want her family to be at a disadvantage, so she insisted Guo Peng’s mother take care of the child—it was her excuse to avoid raising the girl herself.

"Then let her stay with Mom," Guo Peng said, unsure how to handle childcare. He was a grown man dealing with a little girl. He worried he wouldn’t know how to care for her properly, but with his mother around, he could relax a little.

Even though the child called him "Dad," Guo Peng still didn’t feel like a father. It felt like babysitting someone else’s kid—there was no real connection.

"I’m telling you how they disrespected me, and you’re stuck on the kid?" Li Hui gritted her teeth. "You always take their side."

"I’m not taking their side," Guo Peng said.

"One measly chicken leg for me while they hogged all the good dishes?" Li Hui said. "Next year, we’re not chipping in that much cash, no way. We don’t even have to go there for New Year’s dinner—we can eat at home."

"We'll deal with next year when it gets here," Guo Peng didn't want to continue. "Just go to sleep."

Guo Peng was exhausted and had no intention of arguing with Li Hui or continuing the conversation about unimportant topics.

"You... whatever." Li Hui looked at Guo Peng's indifferent expression—nothing she said would get through to him. "We still need to watch out—don’t let them take everything. And don’t keep so much money yourself—give it to me. I’m not as soft-hearted as you. The second they ask, you just give it away."

"It's money for raising the child," Guo Peng said.

"Cut the crap. Besides the child’s expenses, you also send money to your parents," Li Hui snapped.

"That’s their allowance, for basic needs," Guo Peng explained. "They don’t live with us—they stay with Ya Ni. Plus, they eat at my brother and sister-in-law’s place, not ours."

"You’re always making excuses for them," Li Hui rolled her eyes. "My parents raised me too, and I never gave them that much money."

The idea pissed her off, but deep down, she knew she'd never give her parents that much—she needed the money for herself.

"It's different," Guo Peng said impatiently.

"How is it different? Your parents are parents, but mine aren’t?" Li Hui shot back. "Whatever, just go to bed!"

Li Hui snorted coldly. Why had she married such a man? Her life was miserable.

On Lunar New Year’s Day, Qin Yizhou and Song Fenglan had originally planned to take Qin Zihang out, but the streets were packed and it was freezing, so they stayed in. On the second day, the Song family hosted a gathering, and relatives like Auntie Yu came over for dinner.

Song Fenglan’s family attended as well. When Auntie Song (the third sister) saw Qin Zihang, she handed him a large red envelope. She gave the same hefty amount to all the Song children and Qin Zihang, while giving smaller envelopes to other kids. As for Jiang Yufei’s child, Auntie Song didn’t give anything at all.

"…" Jiang Yufei looked from her child to Auntie Song.

Forget it. Just being allowed into the Song family was enough—she shouldn’t push her luck.

Others might say they wouldn’t come if the elders didn’t invite them, but Jiang Yufei was different. Even if the Song family hadn’t called her, she still came after hearing about it from Aunt Yu.

Every time Auntie Jiang saw the Song family’s house, she couldn’t help but marvel at how wealthy they were.

The Song family had specially hired a hotel chef to prepare the dishes, so Sister Song and Mother Song didn’t have to busy themselves cooking everything.

Auntie Jiang naturally noticed that Jiang Yufei’s child didn’t receive a red envelope. The Song family didn’t even bother putting on appearances—they didn’t give so much as an empty red envelope. Auntie Jiang grew uneasy watching this, unsure what was going on, so she whispered to her husband.

"Before, Yu Fei tried to drive Feng Lan out of the house and refused to let her cousin stay there," Second Brother Jiang summed it up—basically, the Song family remembered everything Jiang Yufei had done.

Now, not kicking Jiang Yufei out was already being generous. Jiang Yufei’s husband had also come, so better to just act oblivious and enjoy the free meal—don’t even think about getting a red envelope.

“But we’re family, aren’t we?” Auntie Jiang said. “Couldn’t Yu Fei just apologize?”

She didn’t understand why a simple apology shouldn’t fix things. After all, they were relatives. But the Song family was clearly unwilling to reconcile with Jiang Yufei.

“An apology won’t work,” Second Brother Jiang murmured. “Don’t bring up work later.”

“Got it, I won’t,” Auntie Jiang replied. Seeing how Jiang Yufei was treated, she realized she had no right to expect kindness from the Song family. If they could be so harsh to Jiang Yufei, what chance did she, not even blood-related, have?

On the way over from the Jiang family, Auntie Jiang had been figuring out how to ask the Songs for a job. But now, seeing Jiang Yufei’s situation, she decided not to rock the boat—she didn’t want to face cold rejection either.

Hearing his wife’s words, Second Brother Jiang let out a relieved sigh. He’d been worrying that if she insisted on asking, he’d have to approach the Songs himself. He didn’t want them to think he was demanding favors or end up snubbed like Jiang Yufei.

The Song family paid little attention to Auntie Jiang—there were plenty of people around, more than enough to talk to. Father Song’s cousins who lived in the capital gathered together; those who didn’t live here didn’t bother coming.

Few Song family members remained in the capital. Some had moved to other cities long ago, spreading out—never keeping all their eggs in one basket.

To put it bluntly, a nobody like Auntie Jiang didn’t merit their attention.

Looking at others and then at her own family, Auntie Jiang felt her mother-in-law seemed less like Mother Song’s younger sister and more like a maid to some rich missus.

After the meal, Jiang Yufei wanted to go to Song Fenglan, but Aunt Yu held her back.

“The pastries are good—try some,” Aunt Yu said, shaking her head at Jiang Yufei.

What was Jiang Yufei planning to do—apologize or something else? Did she really want the Song family to dislike her even more?

Aunt Yu thought Jiang Yufei should just sit quietly and stay out of the spotlight.

Song Fenglan barely noticed Jiang Yufei—she was beneath notice. Instead, Song Fenglan chatted and laughed with the Song relatives, who were gushing over Qin Zihang.

“Your son is so clever and bright. With parents like you, he’s bound to succeed!”

“Hangbao is so handsome—he takes after both his mom and dad. He’ll definitely grow up to be a real ladies’ man!”

“I heard Hangbao skipped a grade? Impressive, truly impressive!”

Qin Zihang blushed from all the fuss but still said proudly, “Yeah, I look like Mom—spitting image!”

“That’s right, just like Mom,” Song Fenglan shot Qin Zihang a look. “Didn’t you go play? Why come back?”

“Just wanted a pastry,” he mumbled awkwardly. Not like he came over just to soak up the praise.

But man, could they lay it on thick—his cheeks were burning from all the attention.

"Your ears are turning red!" Song Fenglan remarked.

"I'll go play with my siblings!" Qin Zihang quickly excused himself, his ears definitely not red.

Song Fenglan didn't press further and instead continued chatting with the others.

"They're not wrong—Zihang is wonderful. I wish I had a grandson like him. Fenglan, you've raised him well, and your parents did well raising you," Third Aunt Song said. "The kids I had turned out worthless. Sometimes I wish I never had them."

Third Aunt Song didn't mind the other Song relatives knowing about her situation—it wasn’t something she could hide anyway. She had no intention of acknowledging the Tang family members. They were good for nothing. All they did was take advantage of her without giving anything in return.

Before the New Year, Tang Shaotao and his family had sent her gifts that looked expensive but were actually poor quality—just smoke and mirrors. Third Aunt Song knew they were only pretending to be filial because they wanted what she had.

She flat-out refused to share her wealth with people like them, but they still wouldn’t give up, hoping to soften her resolve. They believed she’d eventually regret her decision.

"Don’t let it bother you," a relative said, patting Third Aunt Song’s hand gently. Many of them had suffered in the past—sent down to the farms or dragged through struggle sessions. But they had endured the hardest times, and now they were living well again. Those hard times were behind them now.

After spending some time at the Song residence, the guests began to leave. The Song relatives departed first, followed by Auntie Yu and her family.

There were still some ingredients left unused at the Song home, so Mother Song had Auntie Tao pack some for Auntie Yu to take back.

"This is too generous—we’re eating here and taking food home?" Auntie Yu said hesitantly.

"Take it. Whether you eat it yourselves or use it to entertain guests, it’s fine," Mother Song insisted. "We’re family—no need for formalities."

Mother Song knew Auntie Yu was struggling financially. She'd even put up money to help Second Brother Jiang open a shop, only for it to fail. But Mother Song didn’t arrange for Second Brother Jiang and his wife to work at Second Brother Song’s company. She believed this failure was part of figuring things out—everyone had to find their own path. Once he did, he wouldn’t need others’ help.

"Alright, we’ll take it then," Auntie Yu relented.

Mother Song had prepared these items for Auntie Yu, but not for Jiang Yufei. In her view, allowing Jiang Yufei to stay for the meal instead of kicking her out was already doing her a favor. Whether Auntie Yu chose to share anything with Jiang Yufei was up to her.

Auntie Yu didn’t give anything to Jiang Yufei, whose eyes stayed glued to what the others were carrying. When they reached the intersection, Auntie Yu announced they’d be going separate ways.

"Mom," Jiang Yufei called out to her. "Aren’t you forgetting *me*?"

"No, I didn’t forget anything!" Auntie Yu knew exactly what Jiang Yufei was hinting at. The items weren’t insignificant, but with a houseful of hungry kids, there was nothing left to spare.

Auntie Yu and her husband had even considered splitting the family property—one son's household on one side, the other’s on the other. With everyone living under one roof, cooking for a crowd was exhausting, and the kids never stopped yapping. Charging their sons for food didn’t feel right, but not doing so meant bearing the heavy cost of feeding so many.

Before Second Brother Jiang’s family returned, Eldest Brother Jiang would occasionally contribute. Now, he only pitched in if Second Brother Jiang did—either both gave or neither did.

On top of that, Auntie Yu had rented a shop for Second Brother Jiang for a year and even helped out frequently. Even though the business failed, Sister Jiang still felt Second Brother Jiang had wasted money, screwing over the eldest son’s family.

Jiang Yufei watched helplessly as her mother walked away with the goods, stamping her foot like a child.

"Let's go home," her husband said.

"Mom couldn’t spare a single thing for us?" Jiang Yufei grumbled.

"Eldest Brother and Second Brother were there too," her husband reminded her.

Neither Sister Jiang nor Auntie Jiang wanted Auntie Yu to give anything to Jiang Yufei. That was the *good* stuff. With meat being a treat they rarely saw, the gifts from the Song family were a blessing.

Once home, Auntie Yu called Granny Jiang out to discuss the division of the household.

Granny Jiang had no objections to the idea. So long as her sons honored their duty to care for her, she didn’t care which grandson she ended up living with.

In the past, Auntie Yu wouldn’t have dared to bring up the topic of dividing the household, but now she could.

“You’re all here—perfect timing to settle the division,” Auntie Yu said.

There was only one kitchen, shared between Eldest Brother Jiang and Second Brother Jiang’s families, though they slept in separate rooms. They also divided some other household items. Auntie Yu and her husband weren’t particularly old yet, so naturally, they kept their savings.

Song Fenglan didn’t know the specifics of how the Jiang family divided things. By the time she found out, it was already done.

When Song Fenglan learned about it, it didn’t come as a surprise. Brothers who have started their own families but remain undivided are more prone to conflicts. Splitting up would ease tensions.

At home, Song Fenglan casually discussed the Jiang family’s situation with Qin Yizhou.

“Auntie’s got some savings, but probably not much is left,” Song Fenglan said. “Some were lost during the war, and she spent some after getting married.”

“Splitting up is for the best,” Qin Yizhou agreed, speaking from experience. “It’s better to do it early, like with me and Eldest Brother Qin. That way you avoid becoming enemies later.”

Qin Yizhou and Eldest Brother Qin weren’t at each other's throats, but their relationship wasn’t as close as before. Before Qin Yizhou got married, Eldest Brother Qin and the others treated him well, and Tian Keshu didn’t give him a hard time either.

After Qin Yizhou got married, they showed their true selves. To be precise, they had originally thought Qin Yizhou was useful and wanted to use him. They believed Song Fenglan was feeding him ideas, making him distant from them, and even blamed her for holding him back.

Now, it was Tian Keshu who held Eldest Brother Qin back—not Song Fenglan ruining Qin Yizhou’s future.

“However they divide it, it’s none of our concern, so it’s less trouble for us,” Song Fenglan said. “Better to settle it early.”

“Yes, exactly,” Qin Yizhou replied.

After the New Year, the Qin family invited Qin Yizhou’s family over for a meal, saying they were hosting guests. Qin Yizhou’s family didn’t go, which angered his mother. But no matter how angry she was, it was useless. Qin Yizhou had already been polite enough, yet his mother still insisted on stirring up drama.

Soon, it was time to return to work. While Qin Zihang was still on winter break, Song Fenglan had to go back.

At work, Song Fenglan asked after her diploma and degree certificate, checking if the mail from Southern City University had arrived.

“I’ll check,” her assistant said.

After giving instructions, Song Fenglan went back to her tasks.

The assistant contacted Southern City University, and upon learning that Song Fenglan hadn't received her diploma and degree certificate, the university staff suspected the mail might have been lost en route. They promised to resend it.

For anyone else, Southern City University might not have taken it seriously, but this was Song Fenglan. Plenty of staff knew who she was—she had gotten scooped up by a research institute in the capital even before graduating and had worked at Southern City’s research institute. Higher-ups had specifically instructed that her documents must reach her safely.

The staff reported to their superiors, who ordered new diplomas and degree certificates to be issued to Song Fenglan.

Song Fenglan didn’t bother about how her assistant communicated with the university. She figured that since she had already graduated, was employed, and was capable, whether the documents were with her or not didn’t affect her work.

Once busy, Song Fenglan forgot about the certificates again.

A few days later, someone from Southern City University happened to be on a business trip to the capital and personally delivered the diploma and degree certificate to the research institute. The university had decided against mailing them again, fearing they might get lost, so they sent them with the traveler.

Southern City University's leadership thought highly of Song Fenglan. If she excelled, she would be considered a star alum.

Song Fenglan and the others didn’t know that the lost mail had been taken by someone else, who saw an opportunity. Though the degree sounded complicated, the documents could still be used for simpler tasks unrelated to the field.

Song Fenglan proudly brought the diploma and degree certificate home, showing them to Qin Yizhou and Qin Zihang.

“So this is what a college diploma looks like?” Qin Zihang reached out to touch it but quickly withdrew his hand, worried he might crease it.

“Touch it,” Song Fenglan said, placing the diploma directly into Qin Zihang’s hands for him to see.

In her previous life, Song Fenglan had already earned her master's and PhD, so she wasn’t as excited about these certificates anymore—she just wanted to show them off to her family. Her main goal was to let her son see them, to encourage him to study hard and get into a good university.

"Wow," Qin Zihang exclaimed. "Mom, your name is here, and there’s a photo too!"

"It's alright," Song Fenglan replied.

"When I grow up, I’ll have a certificate like this too," Qin Zihang declared.

"You will. We’re all counting on you to become the most educated person in this family," Song Fenglan encouraged him.

Seeing Song Fenglan graduate, Qin Yizhou felt that his wife was truly remarkable. Back then, he got into college on a recommendation, and only after attending was he able to get promoted.

"I’ll work hard, I promise," Qin Zihang clenched his little fist and reached out to touch Song Fenglan’s name—he recognized those characters.

I’m so jealous—really, really jealous!

Qin Zihang couldn’t wait to earn his own graduation and degree certificates. His mom was awesome—she always followed through, and so would he.

Before the aviation university’s new semester started, Ding Wenbo came to the lab. When Song Fenglan saw him, she asked, "Shouldn’t you be home spending time with your parents?"