That morning, Qian Chunhua opened her tea shop for business just like any other day.

Inside, Qingfeng was running around by himself.

One moment, he pulled a candy out of his little backpack and popped it into his mouth; the next, he ran outside to tease the ants on the ground.

Chunhua was busy steaming buns in the kitchen.

She had recently acquired new containers for her space—during the last visit from a traveler who was selling handmade bamboo baskets on the way to the county, she had bought fifty in one go.

After cleaning them thoroughly, they could be used to store steamed buns, mantou, and meat pies.

Since time inside the space was frozen, keeping food in bamboo baskets wouldn’t spoil it.

The large metal buckets that were originally used for buns were now free to hold soup-based cooked dishes.

Just as Chunhua was immersed in her busy rhythm, Qingfeng suddenly came running in.

“Mom, Mom! Grandma is here!”

Qian Chunhua was stunned.

Grandma?

After a moment, she remembered—Qingfeng must be referring to Zhao Mother, the Zhao family matriarch.

Ever since the separation of the households, Zhao Mother had shown repeated goodwill toward her.

Chunhua was willing to acknowledge that.

She was nearly done with the buns—only five more to go—so she quickly said, “Qingfeng, let your grandmother sit down and rest. I’ll be out as soon as I finish.”

She hastened her movements, wrapped the last few buns, placed them in the steamer, washed her hands, untied her apron, and stepped out of the kitchen.

Zhao Mother was sitting at a table in the front hall, glancing around.

“Mother,” Chunhua greeted her.

Zhao Mother turned her head, stood up, and looked at her with a touch of awkwardness. “Chunhua.”

“Please, have a seat,” Chunhua said, motioning for her to sit.

She poured a cup of brown sugar tea and sat across from her.

Zhao Mother held the cup and looked at her former second daughter-in-law.

She looked healthier and more vibrant than before they cut ties.

Her complexion was fairer, her face slightly fuller—even prettier, Zhao Mother thought.

It had been nearly a month since the family separation.

The second branch was clearly living a good life now.

In contrast, her own days were getting worse.

Their previously comfortable life had been built on the second branch’s willing sacrifices.

But now the second son was gone, and the second daughter-in-law had been driven away.

Life was becoming more and more difficult.

Sorrow filled Zhao Mother’s heart, and she couldn’t help but feel like the Zhao family’s decline had already begun.

“Mother, is something the matter?” Chunhua asked, sensing there must be a reason behind her visit.

Zhao Mother snapped out of her thoughts and quickly waved her hand.
“No, no. I just came to see you and the children.”

Though Zhao Mother hadn’t shown much overt affection before the split, she had still helped raise the children.

Even if they were just cats or dogs, raising them for a long time would create some attachment.

So Chunhua could understand why she might genuinely want to visit the kids.

Zhao Mother sipped her tea and smiled. “Qingsong and Xiaoling went to school?”

Chunhua nodded.

While she didn’t dislike Zhao Mother, she couldn’t quite feel close to her either.

Seeing she didn’t reply, Zhao Mu continued, “Studying is good. It’s the only way to get ahead in life.”

Chunhua nodded again, unsure of what Zhao Mother was getting at.

Zhao Mother took another sip.

Seeing her cup was nearly empty, Chunhua stood and refilled it from a teapot.

She always kept brown sugar tea simmering.

One pot finished, she’d pour it into her space, and immediately start brewing the next.

Zhao Mother chatted idly—talking about recent events, how they had formally split from the eldest son’s family, and how she and Zhao Daqing were now living alone.

Then she brought up Zhao Daqing’s illness, all small daily matters.

The longer Chunhua listened, the more impatient she felt.

We’ve already cut ties—what does any of this have to do with me?

Just as her patience was running thin, Zhao Mother’s tone shifted.

“Qingyun is a good boy. Smart and capable—his teacher even praised him.”

She paused, cautiously watching Chunhua’s expression, then sipped her tea again.

“If all goes well, Qingyun can take the exam next year. The teacher says he has no problem passing the student-level exam. He’s been studying for nearly four years now. It’d be such a shame to give up now Chunhua, you were once like a mother to him. Could you… would you…”

Zhao Mother stammered.

She knew she was asking for too much.

Only then did Chunhua understand why Zhao Mu had truly come.

She had honestly thought Zhao Mother missed the children and came just to see them.

But clearly—this visit had another purpose.

“Could you forgive the past and help Qingyun continue his studies? His fate is unfortunate—born to such parents…”

“No.”

Chunhua stood up, voice sharp with anger.

“Unfortunate? He had nothing but good fortune! From childhood, he ate well, dressed well—everything that was supposed to belong to Qingsong, he took for himself. And you say he’s unfortunate? I say his life has been too lucky! Good food, good clothes, school—and all of it stolen from Qingsong.”

The more she spoke, the angrier she became.

It wasn’t just that Qingyun had taken what belonged to her son—it was that Zhao Yongqiang and Li Cuihong had abused Qingsong.

That, more than anything, made Chunhua burn with rage.

If it weren’t illegal to kill, she might have torn the two of them apart with her bare hands.

“But… but you were like a mother to him,” Zhao Mother pleaded. “Can you really just watch him be ruined?”

Chunhua let out a bitter laugh.

“The ones ruining him are his parents. It has nothing to do with me.”

Zhao Mother shook her head, seeing that she couldn’t persuade her.

The eldest branch of the Zhao family was now neglecting Qingyun—he wasn’t even fed properly, much less sent to school.

Zhao Mother didn’t want the boy’s efforts over the years to be wasted.

She wanted to help, but Zhao Daqing still held the household authority, and she had no say.

So she placed her hopes on Chunhua.

She had helped raise Qingyun, after all.

Maybe Chunhua would feel something and be willing to lend a hand.

But clearly… she had miscalculated.

Now that Chunhua understood her purpose, she no longer held back.

Once Zhao Mother finished her tea, Chunhua didn’t refill the cup.

Instead, she spoke bluntly:

“Mother, I’ve never forgotten how good you were to me when we still lived together. If you want to visit me or the kids, you’re welcome—you’re still their grandmother. I still call you ‘Mother.’

But if you’re going to bring up Qingyun and make requests for them, then I won’t welcome you. The moment they abused Qingsong and tried to ruin my reputation, they became my enemies.

Out of respect for you and Father, I didn’t report them to the authorities. But don’t expect me to ever do them a favor again.”

She finished in one breath and downed her own tea.

Zhao Mu sighed.

So be it.

She had done her best.

Her request was unreasonable to begin with.

She had simply been too optimistic.

Zhao Mother stood, looked sincerely at Chunhua, and said, “Chunhua, don’t be angry. I was too forward today. That’s on me.”

She patted Qingfeng’s head gently, then left the tea shop reluctantly.

Chunhua stood at the door, watching her leave, still burning with anger.

The entire eldest Zhao branch was rotten. Zhao Yongqiang and Li Cuihong were cruel and selfish, Zhao Qingshui was foolish and malicious, Zhao Xiaojun was cunning and sly, and Zhao Qingyun—selfish to the bone.

Chunhua wanted nothing more than to put as much distance between them and herself as possible.

There was no way she would ever lend a hand to that family.