He had no patience for his mother and didn't bother explaining where he was really going. He left without another word.
Jiang Baohong was moved to tears. "I knew it. I knew you still cared about your dad."
Her child couldn't possibly be bad. She knew her son better than anyone. He might have a sharp tongue, but he had a kind heart.
Finally at ease, she went back to her room to sleep. She could rest peacefully now.
The autumn night was particularly cold, and the early morning temperature hadn't risen. Instead, the wind had picked up, making the courtyard feel even chillier. But everyone was already up and busy, the sounds of pots and pans clanging filling the air.
Ming Mei had gone out early to buy soy milk and fried dough sticks. On her way back, she ran into Jiang Lu heading the same way.
Nowadays, few people in the courtyard made their own breakfast. What used to be a luxury—eating soy milk and fried dough sticks—was now something every household could afford.
