Feng Zhuyi’s body stiffened at once, and she didn’t dare say another word.
Wen Yifan couldn’t help sighing inwardly. When gentle words didn’t work, she had no choice but to use this method…
Since Wen Yifan had already established her authority in the courtyard the moment she returned, dinner was eaten in complete silence. No one dared provoke her at a time like this.
After eating a little to fill her stomach, and while everyone was still present, Wen Yifan took out three more jars of shampoo from her basket.
She placed one in front of Song Wanji and gently touched her daughter’s coarse, yellow hair.
“This one’s for you. Study hard and get into university. Consider this a reward for your hard work lately.”
Song Wanji sniffed it. A light, fresh scent with a hint of fruit drifted into her nose. Her eyes lit up. “Mom, this is really for me?”
Wen Yifan kept a straight face and nodded. “Look at that mop on your head. If you go out like that, people will think I’ve been mistreating you.”
“Mm! Thank you, Mom!”
Song Wanji nodded repeatedly. Even though not a single nice word came from her mother’s mouth, she knew her mom was caring for her.
“Mm.” Wen Yifan responded briefly, then pointed to the remaining two jars. “These two are rewards for the person who contributes the most to this family.”
“That would be me. None of you have any objections, right?”
Song Yanchuan knew the shampoo was valuable, but he didn’t dare voice his anger. Instead, his gaze shifted to the usually easy-to-bully youngest daughter, Song Wanji.
He reached out to grab the jar in front of her, his tone tinged with disdain. “What does a little girl barely in her teens need something this good for? It’s a waste.”
Before he could finish, a pair of chopsticks struck the back of his hand with a sharp smack. A red welt immediately appeared, and the sting made him yelp.
“Ow! Wen Yifan, are you crazy?”
“You’re the crazy one.”
Wen Yifan glared at him fearlessly, her voice loud and sharp. “I spend my own money to buy things for my own daughter. What business is it of yours, you useless coward? If you want it, buy it yourself!”
“What does a grown man need shampoo for? Planning to give it to Widow Bai?”
Song Yanchuan’s aggressive stance instantly faltered. “Why are you talking so nasty? I’m not wrong. A girl’s a money-loser—sooner or later she’ll belong to another family. Why waste good things on her?”
“Shut your mouth. If you dare call my daughter a money-loser again, I’ll knock all your teeth out.”
With that, Wen Yifan turned and went into the inner room. Soon she came back with a ledger.
She flipped it open and nearly shoved it into Song Yanchuan’s eyes.
“Open your dog eyes and take a good look! Over the years, how much money have I earned and subsidized to the eldest and second sons’ families? And how much have you spent?”
Her gaze swept over Song Huailin and Song Kuo’s families, who were now pretending to be quails with lowered heads. She sneered. “If anything, the biggest money-losers in this entire Song family are you lot!”
Song Yanchuan was thoroughly humiliated by Wen Yifan’s repeated scolding.
He prided himself as the head of the household. Being dressed down like this in front of the entire family made his face burn with shame, and anger surged inside him.
He shot to his feet, fists clenched, about to strike her as he used to. “I’ll beat you to death, you vicious shrew! I let you off these past few days because you were sick, and now you’re pushing your luck?”
“Three days without a beating and you’re climbing onto the roof! Today I’ll show you who runs this family!”
No matter how lazy and shameless Song Yanchuan was, he was still a grown man. A fist as big as a sandbag wasn’t something to take lightly.
One punch would leave bruises for a month, and the pain would make sleep impossible.
Don’t ask how Wen Yifan knew. In her previous life, she had taken plenty of those punches.
“Mom, be careful!”
Without hesitation, Song Wanji threw herself toward Wen Yifan, trembling in fear but determined to protect her mother.
Song Chenyi also rushed forward, trying to stop the fight. “Dad! What are you doing?”
Feng Zhuyi forced down her fear and tried to step toward Wen Yifan. “D-Don’t… don’t hit her…”
In contrast, Song Huailin and Song Kuo’s families looked on with cold indifference, as if they were used to this. Shen Que even had a flicker of anticipation in her eyes, as though she were hoping Wen Yifan would be beaten badly.
But her expectations were destined to fail.
Faster than lightning, Wen Yifan grabbed the large iron basin of wild vegetable soup from the table and splashed it straight over Song Yanchuan’s head.
The soup had just come out of the pot. When it hit his skin, steam rose with a sizzling sound.
His face turned red instantly. Vegetable leaves clung to his head and clothes. He reeked of greens, like a stray dog just hauled out of a slop bucket.
But she wasn’t done.
As if venting all the anger from her previous life at once, Wen Yifan began smashing the iron basin against him.
The basin was thick and sturdy, and it rang loudly with each blow.
“You want to lay hands on me? Song Yanchuan, you heartless country bumpkin! I’ve tolerated you for the children’s sake, and now you think you can push your luck?”
“Go ahead and hit me! If you don’t dare hit me today, you’re a spineless coward!”
She swung the basin fiercely, striking wherever it hurt most.
The three who had tried to shield her immediately backed away, afraid of being accidentally caught in the crossfire—and possibly interfering with their mother’s performance.
Song Yanchuan couldn’t even get a word out, let alone fight back. He could only scramble around the courtyard, chased in a panic.
Only when Wen Yifan grew tired did he manage to escape a little distance away. His once decent-looking face was now covered in bruises, and there wasn’t a single uninjured patch on his body.
The pain made him want to curl up and cry.
“Wen Yifan, you shrew! I’m divorcing you!”
He glared at her viciously, eyes bloodshot, veins bulging at his temples.
In this era, divorced women were given no way to survive. They’d be gossiped about relentlessly, and even grain allocations from the production team could be openly deducted or withheld.
Song Yanchuan felt smug. With this trump card played, surely this tigress would be so frightened she’d fall to her knees, begging for forgiveness and submitting to his beatings again.
But instead, Wen Yifan put her hands on her hips and burst into loud laughter.
“Hahaha…”
“Good! Good! Song Yanchuan, if you don’t divorce me today, then from now on you’re my grandson!”
She hadn’t expected bringing up divorce would be this easy. Her mood immediately brightened.
This man was like an overgrown baby, always needing someone to clean up after him. She could finally be rid of him!
Song Yanchuan stood there dumbfounded.
Looking at Wen Yifan, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, his heart trembled violently. For a moment, he couldn’t even tell what he was feeling.
This damn woman really wanted to divorce him…