The next morning, Hu Honglian hummed a tune while cooking pig's trotters and noodles at the stove.
The meat Tian Xiang brought back last night—steamed pork covered with dough slices—was reserved for her daughter with noodles.
Just as the dish was ready, Zhuang Ermei arrived, watching Hu Honglian with a smile.
Hu Honglian: "Ermei, have you eaten? Oh dear, what's wrong with your face? There's a blood mark."
Poor girl, twenty years old and still bearing injuries on her face; clearly caused by a family fight.
Zhuang Ermei said nothing, just laughed awkwardly.
Hu Honglian understood; the person hadn't eaten.
"Xiangxiang is inside, go ahead, aunt will make you a bowl of noodles."
Zhuang Ermei: "Thanks, auntie. Auntie, you're like my real mom! Don't worry, once I get married and live a better life, I'll come visit you. I'll buy you meat, cans, and cloth to make clothes."
Hu Honglian: "Alright, alright, it's just a bowl of noodles, no big deal."
