Anyway, her life is good.
Zhuang Zhixi: "What you say makes sense."
Ming Mei pouted coquettishly: "Of course."
Zhuang Zhixi prepared to go out, and Ming Mei naturally didn't confiscate the money he made earlier from selling the radio. Zhuang Zhixi happily saved some private funds, hoping that by the time he returned from the south, his wife wouldn't remember this matter.
In reality, did Ming Mei remember? It was obvious.
Men, you can't give them large sums of money; otherwise, they're bound to spend it recklessly.
And wouldn't you know it, the next day, before Zhuang Zhixi could find his mother, Zhao Guihua called him over. She checked outside to ensure no one was eavesdropping, then quietly gave Zhuang Zhixi a few gold pieces. Zhuang Zhixi: "..."
It was broad daylight, and the door and windows were closed. Zhuang Zhixi spoke mysteriously: "Mom, where did these come from?"
Zhao Guihua sneered: "You don't know?"
Zhuang Zhixi was innocent: "How would I know?"
