Dinner was finally ready amid a string of incessant scolding, but the sky was gradually darkening. To avoid eating by oil lamp, Old Mrs. Mu hurried into the kitchen to stop Mrs. Lin, who was about to run off after finishing cooking.
"Second daughter-in-law, where are you going?"
Mrs. Lin's eyebrow twitched, and she quickly humbled herself. "Mother, I've been busy all afternoon, and I've accumulated some... fertilizer in my stomach, so I'm going to the outhouse."
"What? You need to go again? Tell me, how many times have you run to the outhouse just to make dinner? You're going to trample those boards to pieces, why not just fall into the pit while you're at it?
Always lazily wasting the family's resources. Did you find the salt from the salt jar? How dare you come out without finding it! If I were you, I'd find a urinal and drown myself."
The rural environment was crude, and the villagers' outhouses were even cruder—a pit with a jar buried, covered by two wooden planks.
