Song Huailin, who had been hiding in the back, saw that Wen Yifan didn’t seem to be bluffing and quickly stepped forward to pull Song Yanchuan away.
“Dad, stop it. Mom’s just speaking out of anger. Don’t take it to heart.”
If his parents really divorced, their whole family wouldn’t be able to stay in the village. It would be too humiliating!
Before Song Yanchuan could recover his senses, Song Huailin had already dragged him away.
Wen Yifan snorted coldly and sat back down at the table, tossing the iron basin in her hand onto the ground. The once round and sturdy basin was now dented and misshapen—clearly unusable at the table anymore.
“Don’t throw that away,” she said calmly. “Keep it for feeding the chickens.”
Feng Zhuyi stammered an acknowledgment and picked up the basin, placing it by the chicken coop.
Wen Yifan glanced at the others, looking as if nothing had happened—as though she hadn’t just chased Song Yanchuan all over the courtyard.
“What are you all standing there for? Sit down and eat. The third daughter-in-law worked hard to cook this meal. Don’t waste it.”
They sat down one by one, mechanically stuffing food into their mouths. It tasted like chewing wax.
What had gotten into their mother?
Even if she was upset that they hadn’t taken her to the doctor or sought justice after she was knocked unconscious by Widow Bai’s son a few days ago, it shouldn’t have turned into this endless fury…
Shen Que felt like she was sitting on needles. After a few tasteless bites, she was full.
Her crafty gaze drifted from the shampoo jar in front of Song Wanji to the basket behind Wen Yifan.
After a long while, she finally couldn’t hold back. “Mom, don’t be angry. Look how this blew up. We actually had good news to tell you today.”
Wen Yifan glanced at her indifferently. “Oh. You’re pregnant.”
After a lifetime dealing with this eldest daughter-in-law, she could tell what Shen Que was up to just by the way she shifted her hips.
Shen Que choked. Seeing no reaction from her mother-in-law earlier, she had thought she didn’t know. Turns out she simply didn’t care.
She felt a sourness in her heart. Glancing at Feng Zhuyi, who had just returned from the chicken coop, she said pointedly, “Since you already know, Mom, I’m pregnant. Going to work every day is exhausting enough. I’m afraid I won’t be able to help much with housework.”
“In the future, let the third sister-in-law handle the cooking. She’s diligent.”
Zhou Zhiyun, who had been ready to throw a tantrum if the chore fell on her, immediately curled her lips. With Feng Zhuyi’s temperament, even if she were bullied to death, she’d only dare hang herself somewhere no one could see… Then she scraped the last bits of vegetables into her own bowl.
Feng Zhuyi glanced at her husband and met Song Chenyi’s gaze—filled with hidden heartache yet also the habitual plea for her to endure.
Disappointment flickered in her eyes. She lowered her head and murmured, “Since eldest sister-in-law is pregnant, it’s only right that—”
“Right that what? That she be worshipped?” Wen Yifan cut her off.
She turned to glare at Song Chenyi. “Your wife’s being bullied and you don’t even defend her. What did she marry you for?”
“For your thunderous snoring and farting at night? For the way you struggle to spit out half a sentence? For never having enough to eat or wear?”
After shooting him another glare, she turned to Shen Que. “Have the baby or don’t—up to you. If you want to be waited on hand and foot, go back to your Shen family. We don’t do that here!”
Shen Que’s eyes reddened instantly.
Song Huailin fell for that act every time and immediately stood up for her. “Mom, that’s too harsh. Shen Que is carrying on the Song family line—”
“Then go tell your father! Why tell me? Have you forgotten or are you stupid? Your father’s the one surnamed Song. Feng Zhuyi and I aren’t!”
Wen Yifan strode over and snatched Shen Que’s bowl away.
Shen Que pinched her husband’s thigh hard under the table, demanding he stand up for her. Caught in the middle, Song Huailin grew annoyed.
“We’re eating. What are you doing?”
Wen Yifan sneered. “I’ll ask you this, Shen Que—when this child is born, will it call the third daughter-in-law ‘Mom’?”
“Mom! What nonsense are you talking about?” Shen Que’s face darkened, forcing an awkward smile.
“If it’s not hers, then what right do you have to eat the food she cooked?” Wen Yifan shot back.
“I’ll say it again. Have the baby or don’t. It won’t be surnamed Wen or Feng anyway. If you’ve got problems, go find your father. My daughter and I don’t owe you anything!”
She slammed the bowl down. Shen Que finally couldn’t endure it and stormed out in anger.
“Hey, wait—” Song Huailin looked between his mother and Shen Que’s retreating figure. He hesitated for a long time but ultimately didn’t dare chase after her.
No matter how much Wen Yifan disliked Shen Que, she still cursed Song Huailin inwardly for being spineless.
She slapped the table and said firmly, “I don’t care how you used to do things. From today on, as long as I’m alive, everyone in this house earns according to their labor. Don’t work? Then get out and stop freeloading!”
The people at the table all wore different expressions.
Song Huailin and Song Kuo and their wives were clearly displeased. Song Chenyi, however, tightened his grip on his wife’s hand, a different light shining in his eyes.
Feng Zhuyi, accustomed to obedience and still unclear about the shifting tide, spoke timidly, “Mom, cooking is rough work. I’m used to it. It’s nothing. Eldest sister-in-law comes from a good family. She probably never had to step into a kitchen. I’ll handle the cooking.”
“Handle what? Don’t you get tired working every day?” Wen Yifan scolded, poking Feng Zhuyi’s forehead. She felt like she was prodding a block of wood—someone who didn’t even know how to slack off. No wonder she had been driven to such misery in her previous life.
Without waiting for Song Kuo to speak, Wen Yifan laid down the final word. “Don’t tell me who’s good at what. Everyone has hands and a brain. If you don’t know how, learn! From now on, carve the words ‘fair and just’ into your heads. If I catch anyone slacking off, don’t blame me for being ruthless!”
The meal ended unhappily.
Since her rebirth, Wen Yifan had resolved to discipline the eldest and second sons and their wives.
Whether it worked or not was secondary. The key was venting the anger and resentment she had accumulated over two lifetimes.
Having established house rules, the next step was divorcing that useless old man.
Wen Yifan told Song Chenyi to take the restless, unsure Feng Zhuyi back to their room and ordered the second daughter-in-law to wash the dishes.
“Wash them properly. Don’t slack off. If I come back and find even one dirty spot, tomorrow morning you two will go buy meat buns and soy milk for all nine people in this house.”
Song Huailin and his wife both had decent, high-paying jobs. Buying a few meat buns would sting but not terribly. But if Zhou Zhiyun had to buy them, it would pain her to death.
“Mom, what if I accidentally miss a dirty spot?” Zhou Zhiyun tested her limits.
Wen Yifan didn’t indulge her at all. “You’re a young woman in your twenties or thirties. Is your eyesight worse than mine? If your eyes are that useless, donate them already.”
Zhou Zhiyun’s face went dark.