Next door.
Upon hearing Liu Zhaodi’s complaint, Zhao Guifang hurried to Old Mrs. Wang’s room to stir up trouble.
“Mother, Sihai has been completely spoiled by Third Brother and Third Sister-in-law. They say pampering a child is like killing them—you can’t let Third Brother and Third Sister-in-law keep indulging him like this.”
Old Mrs. Wang’s face darkened. She got out of bed, slipped on her shoes, and headed to the kitchen.
Lifting the lid of the pot, she saw only a small half-pot of stewed noodles left in the large iron wok.
And it was mostly broth with few noodles—not even enough for her alone.
“Song Sihai, you little brat! You ate so many noodles—aren’t you afraid you’ll burst?”
Old Mrs. Wang grabbed a fire poker and stormed toward the Third Branch’s quarters, cursing loudly along the way.
Shen Xiuzhen and her family were eating in her and Song Shulin’s room when they heard the shouting. She shot Song Shulin a glare.
“If my son is a little brat, then what are you? A brat?”
Song Shulin stood up, his face cold, and walked to the doorway to confront Old Mrs. Wang.
“Mother, if Sihai is a little brat, then what are you? An old brat?”
His words instantly turned Old Mrs. Wang’s face ashen with rage.
“Heavens above, I can’t go on living…”
Old Mrs. Wang plopped down on the ground, about to throw a tantrum, when Song Shulin said calmly:
“Let’s divide the family!”
Old Mrs. Wang swallowed the words on the tip of her tongue.
Reluctantly, she got up, brushed the dust off her backside, and pretended nothing had happened. She went to the kitchen, fetched a large bowl, filled it to the brim with noodles, and returned to her room to eat.
Seeing this, Liu Zhaodi forgot about watching the drama and rushed into the kitchen. She scooped out all the remaining stewed noodles, broth and all, and carried them back to her own room.
By the time Zhao Guifang realized what was happening, only a pot of dishwater-like broth remained in the wok, leaving her cursing in frustration.
For once, Shen Xiuzhen was quite pleased to have a ready-made meal.
But Song Sihai complained between bites, “Mom, Second Aunt’s cooking is really awful.”
If he’d known it would taste this bad, he would have served himself less earlier.
“It really is awful,” Shen Xiuzhen agreed, finding it unpalatable. “Once the family is divided, I’ll stew some meat for you.”
“What?” Song Sihai thought he must be hearing things—his mother actually said she’d stew meat for him.
Shen Xiuzhen looked at him. “What? Don’t you want to eat meat?”
“I do! Of course I do! I dream about it!” Song Sihai grinned widely. “Mom, do you have enough to eat? If not, I can give you some of mine.”
“It’s enough. If you don’t want to eat it, give it to your father. Don’t waste food.”
Shen Xiuzhen saw right through his little scheme. In these times, food was precious—no matter how bad it tasted, it couldn’t be wasted.
Song Shulin wasn’t very hungry. Noticing Song Dajiang’s bowl was nearly empty, he said:
“I’ve had enough too. Give it to your elder brother.”
Song Dajiang wasn’t picky—he’d eat whatever was given to him. He immediately held out his bowl for Song Sihai to share the noodles.
“Next time, don’t take so much for yourself,” Song Dajiang reminded him irritably.
Earlier, when their mother was serving the food, this kid had claimed that since he’d brought the food back, he deserved a bigger portion.
But after just a few bites, he started complaining about how awful it tasted.
“What did I take? I was just worried you wouldn’t have enough to eat. Talk about mistaking kindness for malice,” Song Sihai rolled his eyes dramatically.
Song Dajiang glared back, then remembered the scene when they’d first entered the room and quickly tattled to his parents.
“Dad, Mom, you really need to discipline Sihai properly. Today, he actually tied up Erhe…”
Shen Xiuzhen glanced at the burly Song Erhe across the table and said calmly:
“If he didn’t want to be tied up, forget about Sihai and Wuhu—even if you and your dad joined in, you might not be able to hold him down.”
Song Erhe stood nearly 1.9 meters tall, the tallest among the Song brothers.
Thanks to years of working in the fields, his muscles were well-developed, making him more than a match for the average person.
“What? Erhe let himself be tied up willingly?” Song Dajiang was almost questioning reality.
“Otherwise? He’s so tall and strong—how could those two beanpoles, Sihai and Wuhu, possibly overpower him?”
For the first time, Shen Xiuzhen realized that this usually quiet second son wasn’t foolish at all.
In fact, his cunning probably outweighed that of Song Sihai and Song Wuhu combined.
Song Sihai and Song Wuhu finally caught on, glaring angrily at Song Erhe.
No wonder they had managed to tie him up so easily today.
Turns out, he didn’t want to work in the fields but was afraid of getting scolded, so he deliberately schemed to have them tie him up.
“Second Brother, with your cleverness, if you’d used it against Grandma, we probably would’ve split the family long ago,” Song Sihai said, still fixated on the idea of dividing the household and eating meat.
“Exactly!” Song Wuhu snatched the chopsticks from Song Erhe’s hand, forbidding him from eating.
Song Erhe awkwardly rubbed his nose. If he’d known his mother was this sharp, he wouldn’t have pulled such a stunt.
Seeing this, Song Shulin curled the corner of his lips.
“Since your mother and I said you could rest at home, then rest. But it’s only temporary. Once we divide the household, you’ll still have to do your share of work.”
Hearing this, Song Sihai felt both happy and sad.
Happy because he didn’t have to work for now.
Sad because he’d still have to work after the family split.
But the thought of being able to eat stewed meat after the division eased his sadness a little.
“Dad, what if Grandma never agrees to split the family?”
“Then we’ll just keep resting,” Song Shulin said, though inwardly he was already thinking about ways to earn money.
After all, the family still had a pile of debts to repay.
Song Sihai’s eyes darted around. Resting indefinitely wasn’t an option—it seemed he’d have to come up with a plan to make Grandma agree to split the family sooner.
After the meal, before Shen Xiuzhen could even give instructions, Song Sihai swiftly gathered the bowls and chopsticks and carried them to the kitchen. With a cheeky grin, he called out toward the Second Branch’s room:
“Second Aunt, sorry to trouble you with washing the dishes. My mother’s hands are hurting terribly.”
With that, he dashed back, afraid that if he ran too slowly, Old Mrs. Wang would come after him with a fire poker.
Shen Xiuzhen secretly gave Song Sihai a thumbs-up, which delighted him so much he thumped his chest and promised:
“Mom, just wait and see. In a few days, Grandma will definitely agree to split the family.”
“Mhm,” Shen Xiuzhen thought the same.
As long as the Third Branch continued slacking off, the First and Second Branches wouldn’t be able to sit still.
By then, even if they didn’t bring up dividing the family, the First and Second Branches would.
The next day.
The Third Branch continued their idleness, though Song Sihai, the usual slacker, suddenly became diligent.
In the heat of midday, unfazed by the sun, he stuffed a few handfuls of raw sunflower seeds into his pocket and swaggered out the main gate with an air of defiance.
He walked along, looking around and heading wherever he saw a crowd.
Soon, he set his sights on the big willow tree at the village entrance.
“Aunties, aunties, sisters-in-law, are you all busy?”
Song Sihai greeted them and naturally blended into the group of women.
After handing out some melon seeds to everyone present, he began to pour out his troubles…