Jiang Weihong was startled: “Mom, what’s wrong? What’s inside that scared you like this?”  

She felt a little guilty. Though she believed her youngest was perfect in every way, she also knew the child could be a bit mischievous. Could there be something frightening in the bag?  

“Th-this…” Mother Zhang stammered, unable to speak for a long while. As she stared at the contents of the bag, she suddenly felt a pang of shame. Hearing that Jiang Le had brought it, she not only felt ashamed but also flushed with embarrassment.  

All this time, she had been obsessing over the little bit of meat and eggs they’d given, but the Jiang family had never intended to take advantage of their meager offerings!  

“Mom, say something!” Jiang Weihong, unable to understand her reaction, wiped her hands and leaned over to look. When she saw what was inside, she was equally shocked.  

“This…” Jiang Weihong stared at the bag of malted milk powder, her mind momentarily blank. She hadn’t expected this to be inside.  

(Correction: In an earlier chapter, it was mistakenly referred to as ‘maltose.’ It should be ‘malted milk.’)

Her first instinct was to take it back and ask Jiang Le what was going on, but then she remembered last night—when her grandmother had made her brown sugar water, saying it was bought by the youngest.  

She had even brought out a can of senior milk powder, claiming it was bought by the youngest’s friend from out of town, saying it was almost expired and sold cheaply.  

Jiang Weihong didn’t care about the expiration date; she just knew milk powder was a luxury. She was happy for her family, relieved to see them doing well.  

But she never imagined the youngest had prepared something for her too.  

“Weihong, maybe you should go back and ask?” Mother Zhang eyed the can of malted milk powder with longing but still suggested.  

Jiang Weihong thought for a moment, then shook her head with a smile. “No need, this is definitely from the youngest.”  

Mother Zhang watched as Jiang Weihong took out the malted milk powder and opened the lid. She glanced at it—the tin seal was still intact. It was a genuine can of malted milk powder.  

Next, Jiang Weihong pulled out a neatly wrapped oil-paper package from the bag. Inside were five soft, fragrant old-fashioned sponge cakes.  

Mother Zhang had tasted these only once before, during a particularly bountiful year when each household could only afford two. Everyone got a small piece, and she still remembered the sweet, rich flavor.  

She thought these cakes were already extravagant, but then Jiang Weihong pulled out another beautifully packaged item from the bag. Through the wrapping, she could see individually wrapped candies with colorful foil—something she had never even seen at the supply and marketing cooperative. The most expensive candies there couldn’t compare to these.  

Mother Zhang’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. Had… had the Jiang family struck it rich?  

Jiang Weihong was equally stunned. Remembering her grandmother’s words from the night before, she explained, “These things were all brought by the youngest’s friend from out of town. That friend is a truck driver.”  

In those days, being a truck driver was an enviable job. Though the trips were dangerous, they brought in a considerable amount of money.

When Mother Zhang heard that Jiang Le had a friend who was a truck driver, her previous impression of the child instantly changed. She sighed in admiration, “That kid really has some skills.”  

She didn’t doubt the truth of the matter at all. Just looking at those candies—unavailable even at the supply and marketing cooperative—was proof enough that they must have been brought from out of town by Jiang Le’s friend.  

“Mom, these are for you,” Jiang Weihong said after a moment’s thought, handing the oil-paper-wrapped sponge cakes to Mother Zhang. Though she was a straightforward person, she knew Mother Zhang had always treated her well. She might not say it out loud, but she remembered it in her heart.  

The sponge cakes were soft, and though she craved them too, she thought of her mother-in-law’s poor teeth and decided to give them to her instead.  

As for her own two kids, wasn’t there still the malted milk powder and candies?  

“Aiya, how can an old woman like me eat something so good? Share them with the children,” Mother Zhang refused.  

Jiang Weihong knew just what to say: “Mom, you’re the elder. Of course, the best things should go to you first. The sponge cakes are soft—perfect for you and Dad. And Grandma would love them too.”  

Zhang Zhongxin’s grandmother was still alive, a decade older than Granny Jiang, with most of her teeth gone. At her age, she couldn’t do much work and usually just wandered around, chatting with the other elderly folks at the village entrance.  

Mother Zhang was immediately delighted, feeling that her favoritism toward this daughter-in-law hadn’t been misplaced. If it were the wives of the eldest or second son, they’d never think of her—they’d prioritize their own little families first.  

Even though those little families included her own sons and grandsons, who wouldn’t prefer a filial daughter-in-law?  

After some thought, Mother Zhang said, “Then I’ll take the sponge cakes for now, but when the kids come back, they should have a taste too.”  

Jiang Weihong nodded. “When Elder Brother and Second Brother’s families return, we’ll share the malted milk powder and candies with them too.”  

Hearing this, Mother Zhang sighed inwardly. This third daughter-in-law was truly honest. “Keep more for your own little family. Just give them a little to sweeten their mouths.”  

Jiang Weihong paused at her mother-in-law’s words, then nodded. “Understood, Mom.”  

“Don’t be so simple-minded, blurting everything out,” Mother Zhang added.  

When Zhang Zhongxin and the others returned, the whole family gathered for dinner.  

The eldest and second sons each had three children. The eldest, Zhang Zhongyi, had two sons and a daughter—the eldest and youngest were boys, with a girl in between. His wife, Liu Chunfang, was a hardworking and efficient woman, just not very bright.  

Unlike Jiang Weihong’s sincerity, Mother Zhang’s assessment of Liu Chunfang was that she was a bit foolish—and worse, she often fell under the influence of the second daughter-in-law, Tian Meihua, who was full of schemes.  

Liu Chunfang was easily swayed, believing whatever Tian Meihua said. She occasionally made snide remarks about Jiang Weihong, but her boldness was limited—at most, she’d mutter a few words without causing any real trouble.  

Zhang Zhonghai and Tian Meihua also had three children—two daughters first, then finally a son. Tian Meihua doted on this boy obsessively, even naming him Zhang Yaozu (“Glorify the Ancestors”).  

Since Zhang Yaozu’s birth, Tian Meihua had held her head high, stirring up more and more drama. In her mind, everything she did was for the sake of her precious Yaozu.

Although Jiang Weihong brought things from her own family to her in-laws, Tian Meihua still felt resentful. In her mind, since Yaozu was her own nephew, shouldn’t everything good go to him first?  

Mother Zhang didn’t care much for her second daughter-in-law. Among the whole family, Tian Meihua caused the most trouble. But since the second son doted on his wife, and it hadn’t been easy for him to marry in the first place, Mother Zhang couldn’t risk breaking up the family. She mostly turned a blind eye, only stepping in to reprimand Tian Meihua when things went too far, which usually kept her in line for a while.  

Now, during dinner, Tian Meihua eyed the dishes on the table with dissatisfaction and muttered, “My Yaozu is growing—how can there not be a single bite of meat for him?”  

On cue, Zhang Yaozu started wailing, “I want meat! I want meat!”  

“Yaozu, be good. Listen to Grandma. These vegetables are delicious too. Look at your older brothers and sisters—aren’t they eating just fine?” Mother Zhang coaxed with a smile.  

Tian Meihua smirked to herself. She knew her son wouldn’t settle without something good—he was too clever for that. She deliberately stayed silent, proud that her little boy had already learned how to demand favors at such a young age.  

None of the other Zhang children, in her opinion, were half as sharp as her Yaozu.  

Sure enough, Zhang Yaozu completely ignored his grandmother. Seeing that she wasn’t giving him meat, he cried even louder, “Waaah! I don’t care! I want meat! I want meat!”  

With a child throwing a tantrum at the table, how could anyone else eat in peace? Even Liu Chunfang, the slow-witted eldest daughter-in-law, looked awkward.  

Mother Zhang glanced at Tian Meihua, who sat there unfazed, and felt her temper flare. If she couldn’t control a child, could she at least discipline her own son and daughter-in-law?  

She set down her chopsticks with a cold expression. The second son, Zhang Zhonghai, usually slow to react, finally spoke up: “Mom, Yaozu’s always been like this. You know that.”  

Of course, Mother Zhang knew. But seeing how well-behaved the other children were—especially Yaozu’s own two thin, timid sisters, who looked nothing like their plump, spoiled brother—had long grated on her. Today, she finally had an outlet for her frustration and wasn’t about to hold back.  

“What do you mean, ‘always been like this’? Look at the other kids—why are they so well-mannered? You’re not incapable of raising a child properly—you just don’t want to bother!” Mother Zhang held back from saying anything harsher, but only just. “Pandi and Zhaodi are skin and bones, while Yaozu’s round as a dumpling. They’re your own flesh and blood—how can you favor one so blatantly?”  

She shot another glare at the still-howling Yaozu, irritation rising. Though he was her grandson, she had plenty of those—she certainly didn’t dote on Zhang Yaozu like some priceless treasure, especially not when he’d been raised into a little tyrant.  

“Everyone’s worked hard all day and deserves a peaceful meal. I don’t want to say more, but I won’t let this ruin dinner either,” Mother Zhang declared. “If you can’t control him, take your food back to your room!”  

Tian Meihua’s face darkened. She elbowed Zhang Zhonghai, who turned to his father. “Dad—”  

Father Zhang cut him off. “What your mother says goes. What, now that you’ve got a wife, you won’t even listen to her?”  

The old man rarely spoke, but when he did, his word was final. Zhang Zhonghai flushed with shame. Even Grandma Zhang, the only remaining elder, showed no intention of intervening.