In the morning, the old lady grumbled to her daughter again, "Look at this. I can't even cook right anymore. I always make too much, always."
With her son-in-law, Xiao Furen, constantly sticking by her daughter's side these past few years, she had gotten used to cooking a fixed amount for every meal. Now that he was away from home, she couldn't seem to get the portions right. Day after day, it was either too much or too little, never just right.
"It's not too much. I can eat it all." Yuan Si pulled the nearby porridge basin over. Her principle was that it was better to be stuffed than to leave leftovers.
"Oh, stop it. It's so uncomfortable to be overstuffed. I'll save this and heat it up for lunch." Seeing that her daughter was truly planning to finish it all, the old lady quickly snatched the basin away. Wasting food was a shame, but compared to her daughter eating until she was sick, it was better to just have some leftover porridge.
