Chapter 259 The Primary Task

The ingredients for every meal are fresh and plentiful, and there's a bit more oil than elsewhere.

The higher authorities have made it clear that children are the hope for the future and must be given priority.

Therefore, Qiao Wanyin knew in her heart that the children's meals were truly satisfying.

"Children, what do we do before we eat?"

The head teacher squatted down next to the sink and asked with a smile.

"Wash your hands—"

A group of children, in a soft, sweet voice, raised their chubby little hands in unison, their voices clear and uniform, like a flock of fledglings chirping away.

Qiao Wanyin stood quietly by the door, watching as rows of little hands dipped into the warm water, squeezed out pink foam, and earnestly rubbed their fingers together, their faces serious as if they were completing some important task.

Her nose suddenly stung, and her eyes welled up slightly.

That's great...

It's even better than she had imagined in her dreams when she was a child.

Back then, she would curl up in her worn-out quilt, fantasizing that she could also sit in such a clean and bright classroom, have hot meals to eat, have a teacher gently teaching her to sing, and have friends to build blocks and tell stories with.

But those dreams were just dreams after all.

Now, she has personally turned her dream into reality, bit by bit.

The nap bell rang on time, its clear sound echoing through the corridor.

The children took off their little shoes and climbed onto the row of brand-new little wooden beds.

The beds are made of specially crafted pine wood, with rounded and smooth edges to prevent bumps and knocks. Each bed is covered with a light blue quilt and soft pillows.

Within minutes, one after another, the little figures tilted their heads, their eyelids drooping, their breathing gradually becoming long and even, some even smacking their lips, as if they were dreaming of candy and small animals.

These beds were designed by Qiao Wanyin after scouring through early childhood education materials from twenty years in the future, combining ergonomics and safety standards, and she personally supervised their customization.

She doesn't seek luxury, only safety, comfort, and something truly useful for the child.

"Director Qiao, you should take a break too."

Young teacher Huang Juan walked over quietly, her voice very low, as if afraid of waking the sleeping children, "We've arranged everything, so please don't overwork yourself."

Qiao Wanyin smiled and shook her head, saying softly, "It's okay. I'm going to the office to organize some documents. You guys take care of the child for a while, I'll be back in a bit."

After she finished speaking, she turned and walked towards her office. Just as her hand touched the doorknob, the door was gently pushed open from the outside.

Mother-in-law Song Yazhi stood at the door, holding a cup of steaming milk in her hand, with her usual gentle smile on her face.

The milk was specially ordered by Fu Lian from the provincial capital; it was a special supply and was delivered to the kindergarten gate on time every morning without fail.

"Mom? What brings you here?"

Qiao Wanyin was somewhat surprised and stopped in her tracks. "Shouldn't we be in the factory compound right now?"

She didn't expect her mother-in-law to appear at the kindergarten at this time.

Song Yazhi walked in, gently placed the milk on the corner of the desk, and said in a calm tone: "I saw you running back and forth between classes all morning without even drinking a drop of water, your feet barely touching the ground. Drink something hot to warm your stomach, don't wear yourself out."

Qiao Wanyin looked down at the warm glass of milk. The faint aroma of milk wafted up. She reached out and took it. Her fingertips touched the warmth of the glass. The warmth flowed into her heart little by little, like a ray of sunshine shining into a room on a winter day.

She whispered, "Thank you, Mom."

Song Yazhi stood there, her lips moving slightly as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she just sighed softly and said in a low voice, "I'll go to the kitchen and see if there's anything I can do to help, so the aunties won't get too tired."

After saying that, she turned and walked out of the office, gently closing the door behind her. Her movements were so light that the floor didn't even make a sound.

Qiao Wanyin stood still, her gaze fixed on the slowly closing door, until it was completely shut with a soft "click".

She felt as if a heavy stone was lodged in her heart, making her chest feel suffocated. She couldn't quite put her finger on whether it was resentment, gratitude, or some other complex and indescribable emotion.

She had seen all the changes in her mother-in-law these past few days—she no longer spoke coldly or criticized her, and even began to take the initiative to care about her daily life.

But those past wounds are like tiny nails, deeply embedded in the softest part of my heart.

It hurts when it's pulled out, but if it's left there, it aches day and night.

"Sister Wanyin."

Suddenly, a light knock came from outside the door. Then, Qiu Zishu pushed the door open and came in with a bright smile on her face. She was carrying a transparent plastic bag with a fruit shop label on it, which contained bright red apples and golden oranges.

"I just saw your mother-in-law walk out. She...didn't give you any trouble, did she?"

Qiu Zishu stood at the door, her voice extremely low, as if afraid of disturbing someone.

As she took off her coat, she secretly glanced towards the door, her brows furrowed, her voice full of worry.

She had always known that the relationship between Qiao Wanyin and her mother-in-law was tense; the past open and covert attacks and sarcastic remarks had long been known throughout the neighborhood.

Qiao Wanyin forced a smile and pointed to the warm carton of milk on the table: "She gave it to me."

Her smile was very light, like a ripple on the surface of a lake caused by the wind, fleeting and gone in an instant.

My fingers slowly landed on the edge of the enamel cup, my fingertips touching the still-warm milk carton, but I couldn't tell whether I felt warm or cold inside.

This glass of milk was indeed placed on the table by Song Yazhi herself, who specifically told her to drink it while it was hot.

"ah?"

Qiu Zishu frowned. "How is that possible? She used to give you the cold shoulder, and now she's suddenly changing her attitude and bringing you milk? Don't believe she suddenly had a change of heart."

She strode over, pulled out a chair, and sat down, her eyes filled with confusion and wariness.

"Have you forgotten that last month she told you in front of the whole family that you don't know how to take care of children? And that I was meddling in your business? Now she's suddenly being so attentive, it can't be that simple."

Qiao Wanyin was silent for a few seconds, then said in a low voice, "Zishu, to tell you the truth... I'm really a little scared."

She lowered her head, staring at the rising steam from the rim of the cup, her voice almost inaudible.

The white mist dissipated in the air, as if swallowing her words along with it.

She couldn't pinpoint exactly what she was afraid of, but whenever Song Yazhi smiled at her, she always felt that there was a knife hidden behind that smile.

I'm afraid she'll try the same old trick again.

That feigned goodwill is more suffocating than naked hostility.

Countless times, Song Yazhi has done the same thing: first showing goodwill, then turning her back on people.

Once or twice is a misunderstanding, but if it happens every time, it becomes a scheme.

The most painful thing is not being knocked down, but having to pretend to be grateful and reach out to help you up after being knocked down.

She ran her fingertips along the rim of the enamel mug, her voice as soft as a sigh: "You don't know, she and Fang Wanyu used to stab me in the back. I endured so many nights, crying myself to sleep and waking up crying again. That kind of pain can't be erased with just 'I've changed.'"

Every night, she would curl up in the corner of her bed, her pillow soaked with tears, listening to the low, secret laughter of her mother-in-law and sister-in-law from the next room.