Chunhui Hall.
Song Ci glared at her youngest son, pinched his cheek, and lightly admonished, "If you keep speaking so carelessly in front of your sister-in-law, see if I won't sew your mouth shut. You have no respect for your elders."
Song Zhiyu protested, "Ever since I got married and became the son-in-law, mother, you've been disliking me more and more, you don't care for me at all anymore."
"Oh my, you're already a father and still whining to your old mother. Aren't you embarrassed?"
Song Zhiyu, trying to please her, gently massaged her foot with a beauty hammer and said, "Even if I were ninety-nine, I'd still be your son and capable of whining to you."
Song Ci spat at him and turned serious, saying, "Mother is being serious. The third son is your half-brother. No matter what, you must respect your elders, especially in front of Honghong. Giving him face also means giving yourself dignity."
