Chapter 185 Dealing with the Evil Mother-in-Law

Tell me, how long can I, an outsider, take care of her? Her own mother doesn't care, and if I interfere too much, I'll just get blamed. But if I don't interfere, I can't bear to see her give up on herself like this... What should I do?

Fang Wanyu raised the corners of her mouth, pretended to be in a difficult position, and sighed softly, "Auntie, why don't we just let this matter go? Sister Wanyin is an adult, and you have already done more than enough. If Brother Maidong finds out that I gave you advice, he will say that I am meddling and meddling in family affairs."

She lowered her head and pretended to struggle with the water in her glass. "He hates it when I meddle in other people's business."

"What does he dare say?"

Song Yazhi slammed her hand on the table, making a loud "bang" that even shook the water glass on the table.

Her eyebrows furrowed, her face filled with anger. "With me here, how dare he interfere? Who was it that told me to take good care of Wanyin? Now that she's in trouble, he's hiding far away, not even making a phone call!"

She became more and more agitated as she spoke, her voice trembling, "This time I'm truly begging you, Wanyu. You've always been smart and quick-witted. Think of a way to at least teach her some sense of propriety! Stop letting her act so recklessly!"

Fang Wanyu knew perfectly well that Song Yazhi would come to see her, and she also knew that behind Qiao Wanyin's recent unusual behavior, there was probably a big knot in her heart.

But she didn't give in verbally, only smiling and replying with a light but somewhat tentative tone: "Well then, Auntie, I'll go back with you first and see what's really happened to Sister Wanyin. Seeing is believing, don't you think?"

*

The evening sunlight filtered through the thin curtains and cast dappled patterns of light and shadow on the living room floor, like scattered gold dust on the wooden floor.

The breeze outside the window gently stirred the gauze curtains, bringing a touch of coolness and the aroma of food.

As soon as Qiao Wanyin pushed open the door, before she could even put down her bag, a strong aroma of chives and pork wafted out, making her stomach churn.

She paused for a moment, then subconsciously frowned—the smell was the same as the dumplings she had eaten since childhood, yet it inexplicably made her heart tighten.

Upon closer inspection, she saw Song Yazhi and Fang Wanyu sitting side by side at the dining table making dumplings, their movements practiced and synchronized.

The two stood close together, their shoulders almost touching, pinching the edges of dumplings as they chatted and laughed softly, their voices light and their laughter crisp, as intimate as a family.

The dough and fillings on the table were neatly arranged, and steam was rising from the pot, as if this were a scene from their daily life.

Qiao Wanyin stood at the door, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the strap of her schoolbag, her eyes slightly darkening.

She hadn't expected Fang Wanyu to be here, and she certainly hadn't expected them to laugh so naturally.

"Mom, I'm home."

Qiao Wanyin said softly, her tone calm but with a hint of probing.

She took the old cloth bag off her shoulder and deftly hung it on the rusty hook behind the door, then straightened the crooked bag.

Her gaze inadvertently swept across the dining table, where rows of white dumplings were neatly arranged on a porcelain plate, like soldiers in a military parade, arranged with meticulous care and gleaming with an enticing sheen.

Do you need my help?

She asked again, her voice not loud, but loud enough for the people in the kitchen to hear.

Song Yazhi remained with her back to her, not turning her head, her rolling pin pounding the dough on the cutting board with a rapid rhythm, as if each strike was imbued with emotion.

She flared her nostrils slightly and snorted coldly, "I don't need you."

As soon as she finished speaking, the rolling pin slammed down again, instantly forming a round dough sheet, which she then roughly tossed aside.

"The filling I made is the most delicious."

Fang Wanyu smiled slightly, her face radiating a gentle smile. With a deft flick of her fingertips, she pinched out a dumpling with distinct edges and corners, shaped like a gold ingot. Her movements were so skillful that it seemed she had practiced it a thousand times.

She deliberately placed the dumpling in the very center of the plate, as if presenting a treasure, and looked at her mother-in-law with a smile in her eyes, "Brother Maidong used to say that it tastes even better than the ones made by my cafeteria chef!"

After she finished speaking, she gently tossed a stray hair from her forehead, her posture charming, as if the credit for this meal was already destined to belong to her.

Song Yazhi immediately put down the rolling pin, wiped her hands, and nodded repeatedly in agreement: "Yes, yes, yes, Adong has been eating here since he was a child, and he only recognizes Wanyu's cooking skills."

Her tone was full of praise, even a hint of pride, as if Fang Wanyu were her own daughter. "Look at this filling, it's even and moist, and the juice bursts out when you bite into it. Unlike some people... who can only eat but not cook."

Qiao Wanyin stood at the door, her eyebrows slightly raised, her eyes turning a little cold.

Ha, so this is a pre-arranged charade?

One played the good cop, and the other the bad cop; they performed quite convincingly.

"That's great!"

A faint smile appeared on her lips, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. Her voice was soft and almost sweet, "With such a capable sister like Wanyu, I'm relieved. The kitchen is smoky, and I'm not feeling well, so I'll go inside and rest for a while."

As she spoke, she walked slowly toward the bedroom, her back view calm and composed.

As she reached the bedroom door, she suddenly stopped, turned around, and called out gently, "Call me when dinner is ready!"

Her voice was clear and crisp, almost with a hint of coquetry, as if the confrontation just now had never happened.

As soon as she finished speaking, she quickly closed the door, her movements swift and decisive, leaving no gap.

Almost the instant the door clicked shut, a very heavy thud came from the living room—

It was the sound of a rolling pin being slammed hard onto the cutting board, so forcefully that the wooden table shook.

Qiao Wanyin did not lie down immediately. Instead, she held her breath and tiptoed to the door, pressing her ear against the cold crack in the door to peek out.

Song Yazhi was furious, her face flushed, her chest heaving. One hand was on her hip, and the other was trembling as she pointed towards the kitchen. She muttered under her breath, "What an ingrate! I worked so hard to marry her, and she can't even make dumplings, yet she dares to ask if I need help?"

Fang Wanyu stood beside her, her expression gentle, patting her mother-in-law's back softly and comforting her in a low voice: "Auntie, don't be angry. Sister Wanyin just came back and is probably tired... Look, I'm just trying to help you. We can eat well on our own."

Qiao Wanyin sneered, knowing exactly what was going on in her mind.

Keep acting.

One feigned grievance, the other played the virtuous woman; their collaboration was truly seamless.

She quietly retreated, tiptoed back to the bedside, bent down and pulled out a palm-sized notebook from under the pillow. On the cover, three words were neatly written in pen: "A True Record of Treating My Mother-in-Law".

She unscrewed the pen cap, and the pen tip slid across the paper, writing a few lines of text with neat and powerful handwriting.

This is a habit she has recently developed—to record the details of her daily clashes with her mother-in-law, analyzing them meticulously, as if she were waging a war without gunpowder.

She bit the end of her pen, thought for a moment, and wrote down today's entry:

"Today's battle situation. My mother-in-law and my beloved younger sister are making dumplings and surrounding me. Their formation is neat and their intentions are obvious."