C8 Chapter 8

Chen Yongliang shook his head honestly. “Of course the more the better—enough to eat till you’re full, a roomy place to live, and clothes that feel good.”

Wan Qiqi nodded in satisfaction and even patted his shoulder. “Exactly! I’m not stealing or robbing anyone. I’m earning it with my own two hands—what’s wrong with that?”

Chen Yongliang knew it made sense, but he still felt like something was off.

Wasn’t the sister-in-law basically taking it?

Wan Qiqi ignored the look he gave her, already thinking about how to get this household in order.

Since she’d taken the place of the original owner of this body, she had a responsibility to care for the two kids and support her mother-in-law, to make life at home better and better.

Chen Yongnian squatted in the yard chopping firewood, glancing toward the main room now and then. He felt like his wife had changed—changed for the better.

Before long, Wan Qiqi came out of the main room, drawn by the smell of rice.

Under the lean-to, a beat-up pot was boiling over the fire, steam rolling up. Starchy rice water was seeping out through a crack.

Pingping crouched beside it with a bowl, catching the runoff.

Wan Qiqi’s face changed instantly, and she hurried over.

She wanted to snap at whoever was supposed to be watching him—the fire was right there. What if the kid slipped and fell into it?

Then it hit her: she was his mother.

She yanked Pingping away from the fire.

The rice water in his bowl sloshed and spilled onto the back of his hand, but he still wouldn’t let go.

Seeing his small hand turning red, Wan Qiqi snatched the bowl and tossed it aside, then grabbed his hand and plunged it into the water in a wooden tub. She scolded, “What matters more—the rice water or your hand?”

Pingping’s mouth puckered, his face crumpling. “Rice water… hungry…” he said, and then the tears started falling fast.

Wan Qiqi’s heart clenched. Maybe it was the original owner’s feelings for the child, but the way she looked at Pingping softened.

She couldn’t stand those watery eyes—especially knowing this child had been born from this very body, blood of her blood. She couldn’t bring herself to keep scolding him.

All at once, she softened her touch.

Pingping looked up at her with wide, pleading eyes, lips pressed tight, not saying a word.

Wan Qiqi let out a sigh. The two kids were all skin and bones, dressed in ragged clothes like little street urchins. They weren’t cute at all—just heartbreaking.

She thought: since she’d taken the place of their birth mother, she needed to raise these two into healthy, chubby-cheeked kids—lively and lovable.

More than that, she had to give them a decent environment to learn, so they could read and write.

Wan Qiqi glanced around. The place was bare as could be; even the cooking pot was busted. The road ahead felt long.

Better start with something small, like… getting a new pot.

“From now on, Mommy won’t let you and An’an go hungry, okay? Don’t cry. You’re a little man,” she said, wiping the tears off Pingping’s face. She pulled his small hand out of the water—his skin was still red and angry.

Looking at the few coins she had left, she still went to the store and bought a bottle of burn ointment. She dabbed it gently onto the back of Pingping’s hand.

Pingping hiccupped through his tears, staring at Wan Qiqi’s hands as she worked.

He’d always envied his cousin, Chen Zhu. Chen Zhu’s mom, Yunniang, was kind and gentle, always saving the best food for him. If he got a scrape or a bump, she fussed over him like it was the end of the world.

Today, Pingping finally got to know what it felt like to be cared for by a mom, and warmth spread through his chest.

After she finished applying the ointment, Wan Qiqi looked at the darkened water in the wooden tub, and her expression darkened with it.

Sigh… the kids needed a proper bath, and a couple sets of clean clothes.

Then she looked down at Pingping’s bare feet and decided they needed shoes first.

Before she could even catch her breath, crying broke out again from the neighbors’ place next door—familiar crying.

“Dang it. Zhao Dahu must be picking on An’an again!” Pingping shot off like a rabbit, and in the blink of an eye he was already next door.

He took one look and saw An’an sitting flat on the ground, wiping her tears hard. Beside her stood a stocky boy, glaring down at her.

Pingping charged over, shoved Zhao Dahu, and planted himself in front of An’an. He snapped, “You’re not allowed to bully An’an!”

Zhao Dahu was two years older than Pingping and built like a tank. The two of them looked like a cat and a mouse.

But Zhao Dahu hadn’t expected Pingping to come out of nowhere—much less lay hands on him. Caught off guard, he lost his footing and stumbled back a few steps.

He stared at Pingping, disbelief flickering in his eyes.

What’s this about? Chen Pingping suddenly got guts? He’s actually fighting back?!