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Old Qiao Family's father divided five jin of rice. He was reluctant to eat it on normal days, but today he stewed all of it into rice, adding just a little bit of millet.
There was also a big pile of New Year's goods in the kitchen, and plenty more frozen outside.
Everyone wore new clothes, from inside out, all new. But why didn't they seem happy?
The Qiao Family, with dozens of members, expected support from Mr. Wu. How much money would that take?
And wouldn't it be shameful?
Without the Wu Family, could the Qiao Family starve or something?
Such thoughts made the third uncle unable to lift his head.
During his two trips to Yun City, the third uncle, although well-fed, had lost a lot of weight. He confided in me secretly that he was uncomfortable everywhere.
And there was Mr. Wu, an imposing figure even when not visibly angry.
Whenever I saw him, I would mostly just walk around him.