After the family split up, my stepmother and scumbag father begged me to come home.

Wang Hehua took the bowl of rice, her heart filled with resentment. Five people, and this one bowl of rice—who could possibly eat it all? But she dared not speak. Ultimately, it was her own family who had acted unfairly; she felt guilty and could only endure it.

"Thank you, Mother." The voice was polite, but it sounded fake, like it had been coated with honey.

In the west wing, Ding Yuxiang heard everything clearly. Upon hearing that rice had been given, she flew into a rage and kicked Lin Guozhu twice more, shouting, "I'm still hungry!"

"Alright, go to sleep." Lin Guozhu pulled the blanket over his head, mumbled a few words, and then fell silent.

"Sleep to death!" Ding Yuxiang cursed angrily, turned over, and her stomach rumbled loudly.

In the kitchen, Wang Hehua poured rice into the pot and added water. Lin Xiaorou followed behind, glanced at the small amount of rice, and her face fell: "Mom, how can this be enough?"

"Alright, you should be grateful to have anything to eat." Wang Hehua said without looking up, "Go and add some firewood."

Lin Xiaorou pouted and squatted down in front of the stove, stretching out her hands to look at them from left to right. Her palms were red from being rubbed, and her knuckles were rough beyond recognition. She was full of grievance: "My hands have become rough from working these past two days. How am I supposed to embroider if they keep going like this?"

Wang Hehua was annoyed by her nagging and rolled her eyes at her: "You have the body of a young lady but the life of a maid. Hurry up and add fuel to the fire."

Lin Xiaorou was speechless, her eyes red as she stuffed firewood into the stove. A spark landed on the back of her hand, burning her, but she didn't bother to dodge.

The porridge was ready. Wang Hehua first ladled out a bowl—for Lin Guozhong, with more rice than broth, so thick that chopsticks could stand upright in it. She then ladled out a bowl each for her eldest son, Lin Yutang, and her youngest son, Lin Yuxuan, also thick and dry. By the time it reached Lin Xiaorou and herself, only some thin broth remained in the pot.

Each person had their own bowl and drank it next to the stove.

Lin Xiaorou looked down at her bowl and saw that it was so clear you could see your reflection in it. Then she looked at her brother's and her younger brother's bowls and immediately protested, "Mom... why is mine so watery?"

Wang Hehua picked up her bowl of equally bland porridge, took a sip, and said indifferently, "Am I the same? If you're so capable, go ask your grandma and see if she beats you."

Lin Xiaorou stamped her foot, her lips trembling for a long time, but in the end she didn't dare to go.

She picked up the bowl and gulped down the thin porridge, tears falling into it and mingling with the porridge as she swallowed. It was hot, salty, and bitter; she couldn't tell the difference.

After finishing a bowl of thin porridge, Wang Hehua and Lin Xiaorou were still not full. Even the Lin family father and son, who had eaten dry porridge, cleaned the bottom of their bowls.

After a long day of work, breakfast was just watery soup, and this bowl of porridge has been getting by until now. No wonder I'm not feeling full.

My mother-in-law has always been like that. My brother-in-law is the laziest, but he eats the best. Every year during the busy farming season, his family has to go to the Wang family to help with the work—and because of this, the Lin family is seething with resentment.

What's even more infuriating is that her mother-in-law is incredibly stingy, unwilling to even part with their own food. She wouldn't even let them eat properly before kicking them out of the farm. But could they not go? If they didn't, that shrew Wang Hehua would surely cause a huge commotion.

Ugh.

Lin Guozhong remained silent, his face grim.

"Alright, alright, just bear with it. There will be food first thing tomorrow morning." Wang Hehua lowered her head to clear the dishes, her tone as if she were coaxing herself.

Five-year-old Lin Yuxuan had barely uttered a sound when she was slapped several times until he shut up.

The group returned to the east wing to rest; they were truly exhausted after a long day of farm work and were now in a hurry to continue their journey.

Wang Hehua was tidying up the clothes that the group had changed out of when she saw Lin Yuxuan still clamoring for food, which made her furious.