When Shen Zhimei returned to the Qian family home with the quilts on her back, Old Lady Qian was sitting in the courtyard basking in the sun, while Qian Dabao was poking at an anthill in the corner with a small stick.

Seeing Shen Zhimei walk in carrying the quilts, Old Lady Qian sneered.

“Mother,” Shen Zhimei lowered her head and timidly called out.

“Don’t! I can’t bear to hear you call me that,” Old Lady Qian retorted with a cold laugh. “What kind of thing has been left in our Qian family?”

“Mother, I was wrong,” Shen Zhimei admitted, her head still bowed.

From the moment she decided to return, she had prepared herself for this.

“Wrong? How could you possibly be wrong? If there’s anyone to blame, it’s this old woman right here. I never should have let you into our Qian family in the first place,” Old Lady Qian scoffed.

“But now it’s fine. You’ve made room on your own. I’ve been thinking of finding a good young woman for Xingwang, someone who can bear children. Maybe by next year, we’ll have a fat, healthy grandson.”

Hearing this, Shen Zhimei’s eyes reddened, and moments later, her knees gave way, and she knelt to the ground.

Old Lady Qian’s sneer deepened, her satisfaction written all over her face.

“Mother, I was wrong. Please forgive me, for the sake of the two daughters I bore for Xingwang,” Shen Zhimei begged, tears streaming down her face and dripping onto the dirt ground, leaving dark, wet patches.

“You’d better leave! Take your new quilts and go back to your widow of a mother. Otherwise, if someone sees you here, they’ll accuse me of mistreating you,” Old Lady Qian raised her chin, her voice dripping with disdain.

She couldn’t wait to see if that widow, with a sickly daughter and a child in tow, could even afford to feed Shen Zhimei and her two useless daughters.

“Mother, I truly know my mistakes. This quilts and cotton are meant for Zhizhi’s dowry.”

Shen Zhimei crawled to Old Lady Qian’s feet and hurriedly untied the quilts from her back, placing it beside Old Lady Qian’s reclining chair. Then, trembling, she pulled out five large-denomination bills and a handful of smaller notes from her pocket, holding them up for Old Lady Qian to see.

Old Lady Qian’s cloudy eyes lit up instantly at the sight of the money.

“Where did this money come from? Did you hook up with some man, and he gave it to you?”

Before Shen Zhimei could explain, Old Lady Qian had already pocketed the five large bills and the smaller notes without hesitation, as if it were only natural.

“It’s from my mother,” Shen Zhimei hastily explained.

Old Lady Qian spat on the ground. “Who are you fooling? That widow would already be impressive if she wasn’t drowning in debt with the production team. You expect me to believe she gave you money?”

“It’s true! My mother gave it to me,” Shen Zhimei insisted, frantically pulling out two unopened packs of milk powder from her bundle and placing them beside Old Lady Qian.

“My younger sister writes articles for a magazine in Beijing. She earns over a hundred yuan a month,” Shen Zhimei explained hurriedly.

“A hundred yuan…”

Old Lady Qian was stunned.

Over in the east of the village, He Chunsheng worked as a mechanic and earned thirty yuan a month. His mother acted like she was a government official’s wife, always walking with her head held high, looking down on everyone as if no one was good enough for her son.

“Your sickly little sister is that capable? She earns that much just by writing?” Old Lady Qian looked at Shen Zhimei skeptically, her gaze full of doubt.

“It’s true. The quilts and milk powder were bought by my sister through a classmate’s cousin who works at the department store,” Shen Zhimei replied timidly.

Old Lady Qian stared at her for a long moment before curling her lips and saying, “Get up.”

“Mother, I truly know my mistakes. I won’t dare to run off again,” Shen Zhimei promised tearfully.

“I said get up! Didn’t you hear me? What, do you want this old woman to personally help you up?” Old Lady Qian snapped, her face full of impatience.

Sometimes, she felt that this pathetic woman and her good-for-nothing second son were a perfect match—both equally useless!

Shen Zhimei carefully stood up and, before Old Lady Qian could speak again, she obediently carried the bedding into Old Lady Qian’s room.

Old Lady Qian followed close behind with the milk powder in hand, her posture that of someone guarding against a thief.

Outside, the two little girls frowned as they watched the snow-white bedding disappear into Old Lady Qian’s room, a trace of longing flickering in their eyes.

“Hey, you money-losers, why are you back here again? Did your widow grandmother run out of food for you?” Qian Dabao asked, swinging his stick as he approached Da Ya and Er Ya.

“My grandmother’s house has rice porridge, fried eggs, meat buns, and braised pork every day,” Da Ya retorted angrily, glaring at him.

“And my aunt gives us sweet egg soup, pork ribs, sticky rice cakes, big apples, and big peaches,” Er Ya added, her childish voice filled with defiance.

“You sure like to make things up. Big apples and big peaches? Do you even know what they look like?” Qian Dabao sneered.

Even with all the money in his grandmother’s cabinet, she couldn’t bear to buy him big apples or peaches. How could a widow afford such luxuries?

“If your widow grandmother’s house is so great, why’d you come back here?” Qian Dabao’s eyes glinted as he mocked them.

Da Ya and Er Ya’s faces immediately turned pale.

Thinking he had guessed right, Qian Dabao laughed loudly, clapping his hands. “Liars! Liars! The money-losers are liars!”

“We’re not liars! We didn’t lie!” Da Ya gritted her teeth.

Er Ya put down her small bundle and pulled out an apple she had saved from the day before. Holding it up with both hands, she shouted, “Is this a big apple?”

The sweet aroma of the apple made Qian Dabao gulp involuntarily.

Seeing his reaction, Er Ya quickly pulled the apple back, clutching it tightly. She abandoned her bundle on the ground and ran toward the house with the apple.

But her legs were too short. In the blink of an eye, Qian Dabao yanked her hair, stopping her in her tracks. Er Ya cried out in pain, tears streaming down her face.

Da Ya tried to help her sister, but Qian Dabao kicked her to the ground. Before she could get up, the apple was already in Qian Dabao’s hand.

With a loud crunch, he bit into it, leaving a big dent in the red apple.

Er Ya burst into tears.

When Old Lady Qian and Shen Zhimei came out of the house, they were met with chaos in the courtyard.

Old Lady Qian’s face darkened as she shouted, “Stop crying, you little pests! I’m not dead yet!”

Shen Zhimei quickly covered Er Ya’s mouth, her tone apologetic. “Mother, please don’t be angry. I’ll take them back to the room and teach them a lesson.”

“Back to the room? What room? Can’t you see how much work there is to do? I think you’re all just lazy good-for-nothings!” Old Lady Qian placed her hands on her hips and began to scold.