Fan Xiuying watched as her daughter started scooping flour in the mixing bowl.
Getting ready to make dry noodles, she thought, with her daughter's small build, how much flour would this meal require? She felt a bit tender-hearted and couldn't sit still.
She stood up and took over.
"You just don't appreciate what you have. In front of your parents, we've never let you do such heavy work. And you think you're enjoying life. You, how should I say, why are you so foolish?"
She scooped out several bowls of flour and began kneading it with warm water.
Jiang Xiaoxiao didn't stand on ceremony with her mom.
Why be courteous? It's her mom, after all. Whenever her mom saw her working, she'd always rush to help, afraid her daughter would get tired.
She started picking and washing vegetables; after all, she planned to make noodle stew.
Taking down the dried meat from the beam, slicing it thin, and putting a bit of oil in the big pot.
