Chapter 25: Money, Money, Money—All You Care About Is Money!

After Qian Ertian’s wedding, life in the old Qian household looked calm on the surface, but underneath, tensions were rising.

Of course, this had something to do with Madam Zhao’s frugality.

But Madam Zhao had her reasons.

After all, the second son’s wedding had cost her 20 yuan!

Naturally, she had to deduct that from the monthly living expenses.

With less money left, meals couldn’t be the same as before.

For example, breakfast that morning was simple: millet porridge, cornbread buns, and pickled vegetables.

Dinner was two plates of greens, wild vegetable and cornmeal porridge, with cornbread buns again.

Though plain, thanks to Madam Zhao’s skill, the food still looked and tasted good.

Take that morning’s porridge: thick and just right, every sip rich with the aroma of millet.

Beside it, golden cornbread buns—plain at first glance, but full of grainy fragrance when bitten into.

With a small dish of finely chopped pickles—salty, savory, delicious.

By evening, the two big plates of green vegetables glistened fresh and tender, enough to make mouths water.

The wild vegetable corn porridge, thick with broth coating golden corn kernels and chopped greens, gave off a fragrant steam.

The only flaw was that the staple was leftover cornbread buns from breakfast, which looked less appealing.

But the newlyweds, Lao’er and his wife, were dissatisfied.

At dinner, Qian Ertian complained to Old Qian:
“Dad, I just got married, and Zhao Mama’s giving my wife this kind of food?”

“What else do you expect?” Madam Zhao sneered. “A household of over ten people—just grain and social expenses take fifteen yuan a month. Eggs are eaten often too, so we need to buy fifty or sixty each month—that’s another five or six yuan gone. That leaves less than ten yuan. Did you really expect meat every day?”

“But since we married, we haven’t eaten any meat at all,” Qian Ertian protested. “We haven’t even had scrambled eggs. Before my wife entered the house, we had eggs every other day. It’s been five or six days now, and not a single egg dish. Isn’t Zhao Mama just picking on her, or maybe she doesn’t like her?”

Facing his complaints, Madam Zhao retorted,
“You had plenty of fish and meat at the wedding. Isn’t it right to eat some vegetables now? What family eats meat every day?”

Old Qian banged the table, silencing everyone:
“Enough. Eat. Our family usually eats meat only once a week.”

With the father-in-law stepping in, even Ertian’s new wife, Xia Lan, couldn’t push further.

So the matter was dropped—for the time being.

But those with hidden schemes never stay quiet.

Not long after, Xia Lan started making a fuss again—demanding separation.

The reason? The same old one: the 35 yuan monthly allowance was too stingy, and the food too poor.

She argued it would be better to split the 35 yuan among the households, letting each manage their own expenses.

Old Qian had been thinking the same thing.

Madam Zhao had bought jobs for her daughter and elder son. That money had come—if not entirely, then at least mostly—from the monthly allowance.

So Old Qian wanted to take back that 35 yuan.

But he didn’t want to split the household.

So he told her:
“Since you manage the 35 yuan so poorly, why not hand it over to the second daughter-in-law for a while? Let’s see if she can feed us better.”

Heh.

Zhao Saihua had long sensed what they were plotting.

But she’d kept a sliver of hope.

The monthly allowance was the only benefit she received from the Qian family.

If that was taken away, it would mean open conflict, even divorce.

Not only did Old Qian think he could control Madam Zhao—she thought she could control him too.

If they divorced, where would Old Qian find such a beautiful and capable wife?

Yes, she schemed a little.

But she had never truly mistreated her stepchildren.

Her own children worked hard, earning work points.

But the Qian children? None were diligent.

And when it came to food, clothing, social dealings—Madam Zhao handled it all smoothly for Old Qian.

A crueler stepmother could easily have sown discord, mistreating the children while pretending to be kind before their father.

Well… to be honest, Madam Zhao did treat the stepchildren a bit unfairly sometimes—but only lightly, never obviously.

Compared to truly vicious stepmothers, she felt she was practically an angel.

In all respects—whether as stepmother or wife—she believed she had done well.

Besides, Old Qian was out working every day.

She spent more time with his children than he did.

If she had wanted to play the villain, how could he have known everything?

And as a wife—she had Old Qian’s promise:
“I’ll support you and your three children.”

She could have lazed, shirked chores, done less.

But in reality, she worked tirelessly in the house and the fields, and she did it well.

All of this gave her confidence to stand her ground.

“When I agreed to marry you, I asked for no house or property. But I demanded the living allowance. If you give me nothing, why should I have married you? I’d have been better off as a widow.”

Old Qian’s brow twitched.

Zhao Saihua was threatening divorce.

Though he wanted to help his son wrest kitchen control, he hadn’t intended to divorce.

So he compromised:
“How about this: from the 35 yuan, you keep 5. Let’s see what the second daughter-in-law can do with the rest.”

He wanted to see just how much she had been skimming.

Madam Zhao thought keeping 5 yuan wasn’t bad—especially with winter clothes and shoes to make, and with her and her sons not having to hand in as much grain.

So she agreed.

But before giving up the money, she added:
“Since the kitchen won’t be under my control, I won’t cook daily meals anymore. I’ll just handle the fieldwork.”

“Fine,” Old Qian agreed readily.

If she gave up power, sacrifices had to be made.

Everyone in the Qian family—even the usually kind eldest daughter-in-law—was pleased.

Who didn’t want control of 35 yuan a month?

That morning, sunlight streamed through the windows.

Zeng Cheng had the day off, no work in the fields.

That was how farm life worked—the colder the weather, the less there was to do.

During harvest, there wasn’t a day’s rest.

But in the dead of winter, half the month could be idle.

Of course, no work meant no points—no income.

Zeng Cheng slept in late.

When he finally woke, with the sun high, he was surprised to find his wife still in bed beside him.

Rubbing his bleary eyes, he looked at Zhao Qianqian nestled in his arms and sighed helplessly:
“Why aren’t you at work today?”

She pouted, careless:
“So what if I don’t go? My second cousin covers for me.”

Over twenty yuan a month—and she paid someone else to do it?

Zeng Cheng thought his wife was far too lazy.

Once, he had been aimless too.

But now he wanted to change.

He wanted to earn every point he could.

So seeing his wife slack off, he often wanted to lecture her.

But until now, he’d held his tongue.

Today, he couldn’t.

Marriage was different from before—especially with Qian Sanya whispering in his ear:

“My stepsister never really wants to live sincerely with you. She only loves your money. If you had nothing, she’d leave. She’ll never struggle alongside you.

“She didn’t even like you at first. She only noticed you because Uncle sends you 50 yuan pocket money every month, plus meat and sugar coupons.

“She once said her dream was to find a rich man to keep her. As long as he had money, she didn’t care if he was tall, short, fat, or thin.”

At first, Zeng Cheng hadn’t minded Zhao Qianqian not working.

He liked having her at his side.

But after hearing Qian Sanya’s poison repeatedly, doubts festered.

What man doesn’t want to believe his wife truly loves him—not just his money?

He wanted Zhao Qianqian to work—not to earn much, but to prove to everyone:
“She didn’t marry me for money. She loves me, truly. She’s working for our future.”

But Zhao Qianqian’s attitude disappointed him again and again.

And she kept asking him for money.

Disappointment piled up—until the day it exploded.

That day, he had gone to town to collect the package from his father.

He’d been in good spirits, even buying Zhao Qianqian meat buns and her favorite braised pork from the state restaurant.

Returning home, he proudly presented the food:
“See how much your husband loves you? I bought you meat buns and braised pork, and I didn’t eat any myself—waiting to share with you.”

He expected a kiss, a hug, gratitude.

Instead, Zhao Qianqian only asked for money:
“Since you collected the money, give me my monthly allowance.”

“Money, money, money—your eyes see nothing but money!”

Zhao Qianqian blinked, bewildered.
“Didn’t we agree you’d give me 40 yuan a month for living expenses?”

“My father only gives me 50! You demand 40 straight away!” Zeng Cheng roared. “Qian Sanya was right—you care about nothing but my money!”