Chapter 126: Allocation, Squatting at the Door

Chapter 126: Room Arrangements

Guo Furong was at the dining table when she heard Fan Yani say, “It’s fine by me, Auntie.”

“It may be fine for you, but your sister needs her space too,” Fan Yani replied. “That room is separate and doesn’t require passing through the living room. We’ll get you a new lock. Before, it was used for storage, and your grandmother and others had keys. Who’s to say keys weren’t lost or duplicated? A new lock will be safer. When you sleep at night, always lock it from the inside, understand?”

Previously, all the other rooms were inside the main area. Once the living room door was locked, both the front and back doors were secured, so no one could enter.

But the room in the courtyard didn’t have a lock, making it easier for others to access. Even if the main gate was closed, it wasn’t hard for someone to climb over. This area is safe, but caution never hurts.

“You’re older now,” Fan Yani continued. “If you like any celebrities or want to put up posters, go ahead. I bought you a radio, but you should focus on listening to foreign language tapes, not just songs. Keep the radio in your room—you can listen privately. If you want to watch TV, go to the living room.”

Fan Yani didn’t furnish the room with much, but she included the radio to encourage Guo Furong’s studies. Guo Furong’s birth parents didn’t care for her, and her adoptive father showed little concern. Relying on Mrs. Guo was even less realistic.

Long before Mrs. Guo married Guo Peng, the Guo family had made it clear that Guo Furong wasn’t their responsibility. Now, expecting Mrs. Guo to take care of her would be unfair—it was plainly taking advantage of her.

“If you do well in school, you can get into a good institution. Even a vocational school—just get an education and a stable job, that’s what matters most,” Fan Yani said. “Understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” Guo Furong nodded.

“I’m not trying to be cruel, but you’re not my biological child. I’ll prepare homes for your brother and sister, but I can’t afford to do the same for you—it’s too costly. If you save up to buy your own place and need a loan, I can help a little,” Fan Yani said. “But not much. You have to work hard. Your own strength is what counts—you can’t depend on others forever. Your siblings are no different. What their parents leave them won’t last a lifetime.”

Fan Yani worried Guo Furong might not push herself, especially since outsiders often reminded her she wasn’t truly part of the family. She didn’t want Guo Furong comparing herself to others or hiding away in sadness. It was better for her to strive hard—even if she grew up ungrateful and never visited again, as long as she was self-sufficient, that was what mattered.

Early the next morning, Fan Yani cleaned out the room, replacing the old bedding with fresh sheets and adding a separate wardrobe for Guo Furong’s clothes.

When Auntie Fatty dropped by, she caught Fan Yani putting the finishing touches on the room.

“Expecting guests?” Auntie Fatty asked.

“No,” Fan Yani replied. “This is for Guo Furong. She deserves her own space. She’s older now—sharing a cramped room with her sister isn’t comfortable. Put yourself in their shoes—wouldn’t you prefer your own space instead of squeezing in with siblings? A cramped room with bunk beds feels suffocating. In a school dorm, fine, but at home, they deserve better.”

“Absolutely,” Auntie Fatty agreed. “If there’s no extra room, it can’t be helped. But if there is, they should have separate spaces.”

“Exactly,” Fan Yani said.

“Actually,” Auntie Fatty added, “I came to order some cookies as wedding favors.”

“Tell me what you need—I’ll give you a discount,” Fan Yani offered. “Our products are top quality. Need packaging?”

“Simple is fine. No need for anything fancy—fancy packaging is just for show.”

“What about candies? Store-bought or our homemade peanut nougat?”

“Yours, of course!” Auntie Fatty laughed. “You don’t skimp on ingredients, and with the discount, why go elsewhere? The banquet’s on the fifth day of Lunar New Year. We’ll have guests over on the third, prep work on the fourth, and feast on the fifth.”

Auntie Fatty had already set the date and planned to notify relatives back home. Those who could attend would stay with family or at a hotel if needed.

“No problem. Just give me the numbers, and we’ll handle it,” Fan Yani assured.

“At least twenty tables—prepare for twenty-five. The favors need to be individually bagged.”

“Two hundred fifty…” Fan Yani frowned at the number.

“Make it two hundred eighty-eight,” Auntie Fatty suggested. “We didn’t invite their colleagues, but we can send some treats their way.”

“Done,” Fan Yani agreed.

Fan Yani’s shop regularly handled these kinds of orders. When people in the housing complex held banquets and needed supplies, they would purchase them from Fan Yani. Unless they wanted high-end name-brand items, in which case they’d make other arrangements, they came to her. A few people thought Fan Yani charged too much and went elsewhere, but she wasn’t upset about it.

You pay for what you get. If you want quality, the price can’t be lowered.

After Qin Lian and Zhu Meng got engaged, Zhu Meng quit her job to help Qin Lian run the supermarket. People already knew that Zhu Meng had been stalked and was saved by Qin Lian, which led to their engagement.

Some said Zhu Meng was lucky, while others joked Qin Lian got himself a wife on the cheap.

But not everyone was pleased. A neighbor who’d once pushed Qin’s mother to marry her granddaughter off to Qin Lian was particularly unhappy. This neighbor would berate her granddaughter at home, saying she didn’t understand the family’s plans for her, emphasizing that money and material possessions were crucial—many marriages failed due to a lack of them. When love fades, all that’s left is money.

The girl endured her grandmother’s scolding silently. She truly didn’t want to marry Qin Lian, harboring deep resentment toward him. She was convinced Qin Lian had assaulted a minor and couldn’t shake that disgust. Whether Qin Lian regretted it or not was irrelevant—a leopard can’t change its spots. He might do it again.

“You’re so dense, you don’t get it!”

“Marry him, and you’ll live like a queen!”

“Here, you’re stuck sharing a room with your sister!”

“You’re so selfish—you never think about this family!”

“Just wait—you’ll regret this! You think marrying someone else will make you happy? Impossible!”

“Do you think we’d hurt you? This is for your benefit!”

...

The girl endured her grandmother’s repeated scolding in silence.

Qin Lian knew about it but couldn’t intervene. Before his release from prison, he had vowed to stay out of trouble and avoid close contact with women. After his engagement to Zhu Meng, they managed the supermarket together, and he kept his distance from other women.

When young female customers came in, Zhu Meng took care of them. Qin Lian focused on moving stock and avoided lingering at the front counter, so customers wouldn’t fear him, and business could thrive.

Zhu Meng handled the books, managing the supermarket’s money.

“We turned a profit last month—better than my old job,” she calculated, satisfied with the earnings.

Their supermarket had decent stuff at fair prices, attracting regular customers. Over time, people realized he had changed—not the troublemaker he used to be—now he was hardworking and straight.

When Song Fenglan heard news of the impostor again, she thought the woman had it coming.

Ji Ying’s marriage ended. Her husband believed she had deceived him, tainting both him and their children. Those poor kids were stuck with a mother like her.

When her husband came to divorce her, Ji Ying wasn’t surprised.

“Are you making way for your mistress?” She had long known about his affairs but never confronted him.

Ji Ying saw their marriage as transactional. As long as he didn’t cross the line, she pretended not to notice. Only when he went too far would she warn him—focusing on the mistress was pointless.

But Ji Ying had also deceived him by using someone else’s diploma and degree. Once exposed, everyone distanced themselves from her. Former friends from Nancheng University no longer acknowledged her as an alumna.

When people investigated and learned the real Song Fenglan was a professor at Capital Aeronautical University, they felt ashamed—the real one was far more impressive. Ji Ying was all about money—just a scheming businesswoman.

When Ji Ying’s husband heard her words, he didn’t think he was making way for a mistress.

“You ruined everything,” he said. “You’ve shamed our kids in front of everyone.”

“I may not have gone to college, but I’m not useless—I…”

"You leveraged Nan Cheng University's name, fooling graduates into thinking you were their alum," the man said. "When you didn’t understand something or couldn’t do it, you had them handle it. You played them well."

"They got paid, didn’t they?" Ji Ying retorted.

Nan Cheng University’s rep carried weight—its many outstanding graduates helped Ji Ying thrive by association. She never thought she’d get caught this fast. She figured she’d have years before anyone discovered the truth, even imagining herself better off than the real Song Fenglan. She believed she was doing great—until she realized the other woman was steps ahead.

Ji Ying wished the real Song Fenglan had been a nobody—maybe just a housewife. That would’ve been so much better.

"When you used me, no one complained," Ji Ying snapped. "Now that I’m useless, suddenly I’m the bad guy. If you want a divorce, then let’s go ahead!"

Ji Ying wasn’t about to sob over some guy. Even if post-prison jobs were crap, it wouldn’t matter. She knew her old network would dry up unless she had leverage on a few people—and even then, only a handful might still be useful later.

Song Fenglan heard about Ji Ying’s divorce from others. Ji Ying had it coming. If this had come out later, there could’ve been problems with pensions and retirement procedures.

"Good thing we found out early," Song Fenglan said. "She’s in a women’s prison now."

"Serves her right," Qin Yizhou replied.

"Her old company even sued her for damages," Song Fenglan added. "They went after her for a fortune, then settled for peanuts."

"She worked there for years—she’s gotta have leverage," Qin Yizhou said. "They wouldn’t dare push too hard, scared she’d burn them on her way out."

No businessman himself, Qin Yizhou still understood these things. When he was on missions, they always considered criminal psychology, family backgrounds, and more. Having intel made things easier. Crime bosses were slippery—figuring out what they were thinking took serious work.

"After she gets out, she’ll land on her feet thanks to favors," Qin Yizhou said. "She used your diploma and degree for years—those were fakes. But the deals she made, the strings she pulled? All her own doing."

This reminded Song Fenglan of a TV drama from her past life—a female side character who stole someone else’s identity to go to university. Though she fell from grace, the main character and her circle kept helping her. Back then, Song Fenglan realized that while the impostor seemed to fall from high above, she never truly hit bottom. She was tied with an invisible safety rope, stopping mid-air.

The show didn’t show what happened afterward—it just said the impostor couldn’t be a lawyer anymore. True, she couldn’t practice law, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do anything else. With experience at a top firm, some skills, and the lead character’s support, she probably landed on her feet in the end.

"What a joke," Song Fenglan muttered.

"That’s the harsh reality," Qin Yizhou said. "They pay for their mistakes, serve their time, and life goes on. Once they pay what they owe, they start fresh."

"Right, we can’t wipe them out completely," Song Fenglan agreed. "Her parents lost their jobs—retired early."

Someone told Song Fenglan this. At first, Ji Ying’s parents didn’t know the truth. But once they found out and still chose to interfere, they were in on it. After everything fell apart, they cut Ji Ying loose, disowning her as daughter, sister.

As long as there was profit, they praised her. Once trouble came, they bailed on her ASAP.

"I donated the money they paid me," Song Fenglan said.

"Good," Qin Yizhou said.

Late that night, around ten o’clock, Qin Zihang came home from the lab. He wanted to ask his mom something—he didn’t want to wait till morning.

"Mom, you’re still up," Qin Zihang said, lighting up when he saw her on the couch.

"I should’ve gone upstairs ten minutes ago instead of sitting here talking with Dad," Song Fenglan said, reading him instantly.

"Mom," he grinned, "you knew before I even opened my mouth."

"Come on, let’s talk in the study," Song Fenglan said.

"Seriously, kid—tomorrow wasn’t an option?" Qin Yizhou groused. "You drag your mom into this at midnight instead of sleeping?"

"Mom's always busy. We work at the same institute, but trying to see her is harder than scaling the heavens," Qin Zihang said. "Even when I go to her office, I might still miss her."

"If you can't catch her now, try another time," Qin Yizhou replied.

"But if I wait, who knows when that chance will come?" Qin Zihang said. "Dad, do you want to hold me back my whole life?"

Qin Yizhou had no reply—was he really being so dramatic?

"Are you two going to keep chatting?" Song Fenglan turned around.

"No, we’ll catch up later," Qin Zihang quickly followed his mother. He knew she was the one with answers. "Mom, my professor also wanted me to ask you something."

Qin Yizhou didn’t follow—he wasn’t the right person to ask anyway.

By the time Song Fenglan returned to the bedroom, it was almost midnight, and Qin Yizhou was still awake.

"He’s got a professor already—why does he still have so many questions?" Qin Yizhou asked.

"Curious minds always have questions," Song Fenglan said. "A few pointers here and there, and he’ll get it. Sometimes all he needs is a little guidance."

"He’s fortunate to have you as his mother," Qin Yizhou remarked.

"He’s my child—I should guide him more," Song Fenglan said. "I can’t let him rely on his professor for everything. The more he asks, the more he’ll understand. It’s good for him. I hope one day he’ll outshine me."

Song Fenglan wanted her son to achieve something, so no one could say he only succeeded because of her. That wouldn’t fly—he had to earn his own reputation. He needed to make people recognize his name and prove his abilities.

At year’s end, Duan Yue received a transfer notice—he was moving to the capital’s research institute.

Ji Ying had deep local connections, even with government officials. Even if those people hadn’t known her true identity at first, it was Duan Yue who exposed everything. The façade crumbled, exposing the ugliness beneath.

Duan Yue hadn’t applied for the transfer. Song Fenglan had pulled strings with the Director to get him reassigned. That was Ji Ying’s turf, where she’d dug in for years. Song Fenglan didn’t want Duan Yue painted as a target.

Duan Yue wasn’t Song Fenglan’s student, but he had talent. If he hadn’t uncovered Ji Ying’s schemes, Song Fenglan wouldn’t have found out so soon.

Duan Yue never expected Song Fenglan would arrange his move to the capital’s institute. He’d wanted to work there since his Ph.D. days. But back then, he didn’t make the cut and got posted elsewhere.

Luckily, this time, his efforts paid off—he was headed back to the capital.

Duan Yue brought his wife and child along. His wife was all for it—settling in the capital was ideal. With top-tier schools everywhere, their kid’s education was set.

Duan Yue went to Song Fenglan’s office to thank her. Without her help, he wouldn’t be back so soon.

"Don’t thank me—thank yourself," Song Fenglan said.

"I barely lifted a finger," Duan Yue replied. He’d originally hoped to get Ding Wenbo to owe him a favor, but instead, Song Fenglan stepped in directly.

"She had deep roots there. Better you’re out," Song Fenglan said.

Back then, without cameras everywhere, anything could happen. Right after Ji Ying’s exposure, no one dared touch Duan Yue, but in a year or two, things might change.

Song Fenglan didn’t know if Duan Yue faced any backlash at his old post, but she knew this matter involved her. Since he had talent, she approached the Director. If he hadn’t, she wouldn’t have bothered.

"Luckily, they didn’t dare cross me," Duan Yue said.

"Get back to work," Song Fenglan said.

"Right." Duan Yue stood up. He knew she was busy and didn’t linger.

Duan Yue was thrilled. He once dreamed of staying under his advisor at his alma mater, but his mentor lacked influence, so he was sent elsewhere. Now, he was back in the capital’s institute, with housing provided for his family. His wife and child moved in, and he could finally focus on research.

Certainly, hitching yourself to a powerful patron makes all the difference.

Duan Yue still regretted his past choices. Back then, he should have become Song Fenglan’s graduate student—he really should have. After all, when Ding Wenbo earned his doctorate, he was highly sought after, with several peer institutions eager to recruit him, while Duan Yue had never enjoyed that level of popularity.

When Duan Yue met Ding Wenbo again, the two had lunch together.

“Congratulations,” Ding Wenbo said.

“Professor Song is very kind,” Duan Yue replied.

“Of course she is,” Ding Wenbo said—no need for Duan Yue to state the obvious.

Duan Yue had pulled strings and plotted, yet in the end, it was Song Fenglan who enabled his return to the institute in the capital. Sometimes, he found it wryly ironic. He had taken so many detours, convinced of his own cleverness, believing he had calculated every move—only to realize he had miscalculated far too much.

Duan Yue’s character wasn’t fundamentally flawed; otherwise, Song Fenglan wouldn’t have approached the director on his behalf.

That year during the New Year celebrations, Song Fenglan and Qin Zihang still didn’t visit the Qin family. Qin Yizhou merely delivered New Year gifts.

Qin Li’an got engaged and would soon marry. Despite her ailing health, Mother Qin insisted on properly arranging the wedding preparations.

Originally, Qin Li’an had been moved to a less central room. But now that he was getting married, he couldn’t stay there anymore—he needed a larger space.

“Let him move back into his old room,” Mother Qin said. “It’s been sitting empty anyway.”

You Yun had never allowed her own son to sleep there, fearing future squabbles. And sure enough, now Mother Qin had a reason to let Qin Li’an reclaim it. If You Yun’s son had occupied it, he might have been forced to vacate for Qin Li’an.

“This apartment…” Mother Qin looked at Eldest Brother Qin.

“This apartment will go to Li’an’s younger brother,” Eldest Brother Qin said. “We’ll give them another two-bedroom apartment. They can live here after marriage, and when their younger brother gets married, they’ll move out.”

You Yun wasn’t pleased. She preferred a clearer division, but she knew that wasn’t realistic. Her son was too young to marry, so letting Qin Li’an stay here for now was reasonable.

Mother Qin immediately understood Eldest Brother Qin’s intentions. She smacked her chopsticks down on the table.

“You just want to leave everything to your youngest son,” she snapped. “Once we’re gone and can’t interfere, you’ll do as you please.”

“I…” Eldest Brother Qin couldn’t deny it—he was indeed thinking exactly that.

“There’s no issue with giving it to Li’an’s brother,” Father Qin said. Qin Li’an was beyond salvage, and his children couldn’t even qualify for government jobs. There was no need for him to inherit so much. “Here’s the plan: Buy them a home for the newlyweds—two or three bedrooms will suffice.”

“Are there sellers?” Mother Qin asked. “Wouldn’t people hold out for compensation from a tear-down?”

“Who knows how long that’ll take? Most buildings here were built in the 70s or 80s—not that old. Some were even finished just a few years ago. Demolition isn’t happening anytime soon,” Father Qin said. “There’ll always be people desperate enough to sell. Just make sure the legal transfer is handled properly.”

“And yet before, you said Yi Zhou shouldn’t—”

“That’s a separate matter,” Father Qin said grimly, knowing his wife was thinking of the demolition compensation for Qin Yizhou’s property. “His area’s policy hasn’t been finalized—just rumors for now. If it does happen, the compensation is his. As for Li’an, give him the other rental apartment, buy them a new home, set aside some money, and toss in the grocery store. That’s more than enough.”

Under Father Qin’s plan, Li’an was getting far more than Qin Yizhou ever had. Of course, this was partly because Eldest Brother Qin had earned some money, and Father Qin had decided he should contribute.

“Li’an, after marriage, you’ll move out. The new home will be yours, and the other property can be rented out,” Father Qin said. “If the supermarket fails, at least you’ll have rental income to live on.”

“Alright…” Qin Li’an couldn’t refuse. These assets were only his while his grandparents were alive. Once they passed, he’d get nothing.

You Yun stayed silent. She knew her husband wouldn’t cheat their son. Still, she sensed her in-laws favored Qin Li’an—her father-in-law might chide his wife, but in reality, he had allocated plenty to Qin Li’an.

Outwardly, they were shunting Li’an aside, making him move. But in truth, he was coming out ahead.

You Yun thought that as long as the remaining assets could go to her son, or if her son could get even more, that would be more important than anything else. Eldest Brother Qin could still earn money, and her in-laws must still have some savings.

"Eldest son’s wife," Qin’s father said. "Do you have any objections?"

"No, none," You Yun replied. "We’ll follow your decision."

It was for the best that Qin Lian wouldn’t live with them. You Yun was a stepmother and mother-in-law—she might not get along well with Qin Lian’s wife, so it was better for Qin Lian to move out.

When the Zhu family learned how the Qins were dividing their assets, they didn’t object.

Zhu Meng even told her family that she and her husband would get two properties, a supermarket shop, and some cash. She was thrilled—no more living with her in-laws, plus financial freedom.

"What if their big house gets torn down..." Zhu’s mother hesitated.

"That big house might not even be torn down anytime soon," Zhu Meng said. "Better to take what we can get now. They’re buying us a place here too, so we’ll have two houses and money—isn’t that enough? Mom, our situation isn’t like theirs. Even if Li An and I wanted more, we wouldn’t get it. Take what we can get—it’s not like our family has that many houses or rooms anyway."

Zhu Meng felt she was about to become wealthier than her own family, and the supermarket would keep bringing in steady income.

"If they do tear it down, the place we buy here and the supermarket might get a payout—could be a good thing," Zhu Meng said. "We should look on the bright side. This is already much better than I expected. I thought they’d just let us live in one place without giving us anything else."

Zhu Meng and Qin Lian had the same idea—get what they could first. If Eldest Brother Qin gave them more later, fine. If not, no big loss. Once Qin’s parents were gone, Qin Lian wouldn’t have a shot at getting anything.

"Besides, isn’t this already way better than what our family has?" Zhu Meng said.

Zhu’s mother really couldn’t argue—the Qins were indeed far wealthier than their own family.

After New Year’s, Song Fenglan didn’t call Auntie Fatty, who was busy preparing for Zhang Wen’s wedding banquet and had no time to chat. Song Fenglan had her own matters to attend to, so they didn’t stay in touch.

Coming back from the research institute, Song Fenglan thought it was too cold outside—much warmer inside.

"Auntie Fatty’s eldest is holding his wedding banquet," Song Fenglan remarked.

"You regret not going?" Qin Yizhou asked.

"No, absolutely not," Song Fenglan said. "We decided long ago we weren’t going. It’s a long trip, and right around New Year’s—not ideal. We have things to handle here, so it wouldn’t make sense. Auntie Fatty gets it. Look, Zhang Wen’s getting married, Zhang Xiaohu is just two or three years younger, and Zi Hang is about two years younger than Xiaohu."

"Think about it—three years plus two, that’s almost six years apart," Qin Yizhou said. "Even two and two adds up to five."

Song Fenglan thought about it and realized he was right. "Xiao Wen just turned old enough to marry last year—that’s why he’s getting his license now."

Time flew. Song Fenglan got nostalgic—she almost checked the mirror to see how much older she’d gotten.

"Auntie Fatty isn’t living with the newlyweds," Song Fenglan said. "And for good reason—living together causes too many headaches. When Zi Hang comes of age and gets married, if they don’t want to stay at home, we’ll let them move out."

"With a family like ours, staying home is easy—meals made, house cleaned, no chores to do," Qin Yizhou said. "So much easier."

"If Zi Hang moves out, he can just hire help," Song Fenglan said.

"Does he even make enough for that?" Qin Yizhou said. "He’d still need money from us—well, mostly from you. You’ve got more saved up. I don’t."

"That might actually be the case," Song Fenglan admitted. "But if Zi Hang does well in his research, it’s money well spent. It reminds me of Auntie—she gave up her own career to take care of Uncle. If Zi Hang finds someone someday, I hope they won’t have to sacrifice so much for him. We can afford help now, so why not? It’s worth it."

Song Fenglan was willing to spend the money as long as her son excelled in his research. She couldn’t demand too much from his future partner—that wouldn’t be fair. Someone else’s daughter was raised with just as much care, and all parents want their children to succeed.

"It’s still a long way off," Qin Yizhou said.

"With Zi Hang, there’s not much to worry about," Song Fenglan agreed.

Auntie Fatty’s family was bustling with preparations, and Lin Jiajia’s family also held a wedding banquet—both families held separate celebrations since their relatives didn’t gather together. The expenses naturally fell on Auntie Fatty’s family. When Zhang Xiaohu returned home for winter break, he handed over the money he had earned from his part-time job to Auntie Fatty.

When Auntie Fatty asked why he hadn’t returned the money to Qin Zihang, Zhang Xiaohu said that Qin Zihang had told him to bring it home first. The family was strapped for cash and needed the money, so it made sense to bring it home. Auntie Fatty just felt they were even deeper in Song Fenglan’s family’s debt—they had helped them far too much.

Fang Xudong and Zhang Chenghai got along fairly well, so naturally, Gao Xiuxiu’s family was invited as well. When arranging meals for the workers ahead of time, Auntie Fatty also invited Gao Xiuxiu and her family to eat.

Better to handle things right and keep Gao Xiuxiu’s family from stirring up drama at this time.

It wasn’t the main banquet, so the food was simpler—just a meal: greens, tofu, some meat, but overall on the lighter side. They stir-fried chicken blood, duck blood, and innards for the workers—stuff you’d never serve at the main banquet.

Gao Xiuxiu didn’t like eating animal organs. Before her hysterectomy, she used to eat them, but after the surgery, she mostly stopped. Seeing those animal innards reminded her of what had happened to her body—if only she were still whole.

“They’ve prepared quite a variety of dishes,” Gao Xiuxiu remarked at home. She couldn’t really fault Auntie Fatty for this. Auntie Fatty was indeed generous—there were meat buns, steamed buns, porridge, salted duck eggs, and pickles all ready in the morning. “They’re shelling out a lot. Then again, they bought a house in the capital for their younger son. If they didn’t handle the wedding properly for their eldest, they’d be criticized by him and his wife later.”

Gao Xiuxiu also helped out a bit to keep people from saying her family just came to freeload. Since Auntie Fatty had invited them, she figured they might as well go as a family. After all, Auntie Fatty would need to borrow space to set up tables for the banquet later.

“Just eat,” Fang Xudong said.

“When our Big Girl gets married, we’ll have to go all out,” Gao Xiuxiu declared. “We can’t let the groom’s family look down on her. Last year, before Zhang Wen and his wife even registered their marriage, her mother demanded a house, insisting Auntie Fatty treat both sons equally. That’s fair—how could the eldest have a house while the younger one doesn’t? But our situation is different. We’ll be relying on Big Girl in the future.”

“Don’t always focus on Big Girl. There’s also Second Girl,” Fang Xudong reminded her. “She’s our daughter too. If you keep acting like this, she’ll be upset.”

“So what if she’s upset? Do I have to make her happy?” Gao Xiuxiu retorted. “She’s my own flesh and blood—I brought her into this world, and look how she acts.”

“You…” Fang Xudong sighed and shook his head. “You just resent that she’s not a son.”

“If she were a son, none of this would’ve happened,” Gao Xiuxiu said. “When I was pregnant with her, everyone said my belly shape meant a boy—hardly anyone guessed a girl. And then? She turned out to be a girl. What a letdown.”

Even now, Gao Xiuxiu still believed Second Girl shouldn’t have been a daughter.

“Second Girl is really… her grades aren’t good either,” Gao Xiuxiu continued. “Her only future is marrying off. She’s lucky enough to be raised in the city with an urban hukou. Without it, she’d end up with some backwater nobody, raising pigs and chickens.”

Fang Xudong bit back a reply. He knew no matter how often he argued, it went in one ear and out the other. Deep down, Gao Xiuxiu was convinced Second Girl was worthless and would never support them in the future. All he could do was secretly slip Second Girl some money or buy her little treats. As for Big Girl, she had Gao Xiuxiu and Grandma Fang’s favor—she always got more.

Tang Lu came back to the capital for New Year’s, but Third Aunt Song still refused to let her in, so Tang Lu returned to the Tang household. Before the holiday, everything seemed fine, but after New Year’s Day, starting from the second day, the Tang family began setting up blind dates for her—one on the third day, another on the fourth, and so on…

They were dead set on marrying her off right then and there. Unwilling, Tang Lu fled from home.

“Mom,” Tang Lu called out, squatting outside Third Aunt Song’s doorstep. After waiting for over half an hour, she finally caught sight of Third Aunt Song coming home.