Chapter 242 Suffering
Shen Cuifen didn't understand what her mother-in-law meant. She just thought her mother-in-law was really going to get it. She was anxious and quickly stopped her, saying urgently, "Mother, don't move! Your legs still hurt. How can you walk around like that? Why do you need to do such a small thing yourself? I'll go. You sit down and I'll be right back."
Zhou Xiuli sneered, her voice sharp and laced with undisguised sarcasm: "Sister-in-law, it's getting cold, don't force yourself. By the time you get over that limp leg, the food will be cold, and you won't even get a hot sip of soup. Shen Cuifen, stop dawdling here, go and bring me my bowl and chopsticks! Don't keep everyone waiting for you!"
Chapter Seventy-Four: Zhou Liguo Returns Home
Zhou Xiuli was calculating in her mind – she had already anticipated that Zhou Nuli's push last time would cause Zhao Lin to fall and break his leg, which would weaken his momentum considerably.
Nowadays, she doesn't speak as assertively at home as before, and she needs help to walk, clearly because she's afraid of Zhou Nuli.
The more she thought about it, the more smug she became, feeling that she had caught someone red-handed, and she became even more unscrupulous.
She thought to herself, since Zhou Nuli wouldn't be back until tonight anyway, and he wasn't home right now, no one could control her.
As long as she makes a big enough scene, Zhao Lin will have to put up with it for the sake of his reputation, especially since Zhou Anguo is there to back her up.
So she simply let loose, glaring at everyone and adopting an attitude that no one could mess with.
Shen Cuifen held her breath, her chest aching, but she knew she couldn't make a scene at this time, so she had to suppress her grievances and silently go to the cupboard to take out a clean set of bowls and chopsticks.
Her fingers trembled slightly, but she still managed to carry the bowl and chopsticks out, her steps heavy as if she were dragging a thousand pounds.
Zhou Xiuli took the bowl and chopsticks, glanced at them, and immediately started finding fault again, raising her voice: "How can you be a good housekeeper? The bowls aren't even clean, there are still water droplets on the sides, and the chopsticks are wet! Are you blind? Or are you deliberately trying to disgust me?"
As he spoke, he reached out and tried to snatch the bowl from Shen Cuifen's hand.
Caught off guard, Shen Cuifen nearly knocked over the bowl. She quickly lowered her head, took the bowl and chopsticks back, and whispered, "I..."
I'll wash it again.
She turned and went back to the kitchen, put the dishes and chopsticks in the water to rinse them again. Her fingers turned red from the cold water, but her heart felt like it was being pricked by needles.
She didn't understand why she had to be humiliated like this when she hadn't done anything wrong.
Zhao Lin knew perfectly well that the bowl was spotless, without even a trace of oil.
Zhou Xiuli wasn't looking for trouble; she was testing her limits. She was targeting her to see if Zhou Xiuli would still dare to take charge of the family after she became crippled.
She lowered her head, remained silent, and quietly picked up a piece of green vegetable with her chopsticks and put it in her mouth.
Before Zhou Jianguo and Zhou Liguo returned, Zhao Lin had already made up his mind: to endure.
She knew that she was now unable to move around easily, and if a fight broke out, only Shen Cuifen and she would suffer.
She couldn't let Zhou Nuli come back and find fault with her, and she couldn't let the family fall into chaos.
So she pretended not to see anything, kept her head down and ate her food. Even when Shen Cuifen was wronged, she acted as if she hadn't noticed, her face calm as if nothing had happened.
Zhou Xiuli took the freshly washed bowl and chopsticks, noticed that water was still dripping from the edge of the bowl, but she didn't wipe it and just picked up some food.
But as soon as the chopsticks touched the meat plate, they were dumbfounded—where was the meat?
She stared wide-eyed, looking left and right, but all that was left on the meat plate were a few pieces of fat and scattered scallion segments; she couldn't even find a decent slice of meat.
She looked up abruptly and glanced at the other people's bowls—Zhou Anguo's bowl was piled high with chunks of meat, glistening with oil; Zhao Lin's bowl was also piled high with layers of braised pork; even Shen Cuifen's white rice was thickly covered with slices of dark brown meat, emitting a fragrant aroma.
But in her bowl, apart from a small handful of green vegetables and half a spoonful of soup, there wasn't a single piece of meat or hair; it was so clean it looked as if someone had deliberately picked it out.
Shen Cuifen looked down at her bowl of meat, smelling the rich aroma, and the pent-up anger in her heart inexplicably vanished.
A slight smile played on her lips, and a barely perceptible hint of amusement flashed in her eyes—it turned out that no one was truly unaware of the humiliation she had suffered.
After dinner, Zhou Xiuli went back to her room and lay down with a livid face. She was furious and rubbed her aching temples while waiting for Zhou Nuli to come back and complain.
She planned to embellish what had happened that day and make Zhao Lin and Shen Cuifen suffer.
But as they waited and waited, it got dark. The sun slowly sank, and twilight spread across the horizon like ink, stretching the shadows in the courtyard longer and longer.
She became anxious, feeling restless and irritable, as if ants were gnawing at her heart. She got up and knocked on the door three times, making a loud "thump-thump" sound.
Finally, he stomped his foot and slammed the door shut with a loud bang, the sound so loud it seemed to make the tiles under the eaves tremble.
Shen Cuifen quietly leaned closer to Zhao Lin and asked in a low voice, "Mom, Dad... he's not not coming back today, is he?"
As she spoke, she secretly glanced at the courtyard gate, afraid of missing any movement.
Even Shen Cuifen knew that as long as Zhou Xiuli was home, Zhou Nuli would definitely have to come back.
He has always been afraid of his wife's nagging, and even if he's a minute late, he'll come up with a whole bunch of excuses.
He didn't come back; either he's working overtime at the factory, or... the police have some information.
The moment this thought crossed her mind, Shen Cuifen's heart sank, and her palms began to sweat slightly.
The phone number Zhao Lin left at the police station wasn't her home number at all—she deliberately left Zhou Nuli's factory number.
She was afraid of Zhou Xiuli causing trouble, and even more afraid that the news would come suddenly and catch the family off guard.
She couldn't let that noise and chaos ruin the days that were just starting to look up.
Zhao Lin remained silent for a while, then sat on a small stool, holding a rag in his hand, mechanically wiping the corner of the table, while his mind was racing with thoughts.
Why would a joint venture factory work overtime in winter?
With the cold weather and little work available, the workers are all huddled up waiting for the New Year, so who would be there to operate the machines?
If he doesn't come back, there's only one possibility left.
She looked up at Shen Cuifen, her gaze steady, but her tone carried a barely perceptible lightness: "You should cook a couple more dishes. Liguo is probably coming back soon."
Upon hearing this, Shen Cuifen's eyes lit up instantly, as if an oil lamp had been suddenly lit in the dark.
She didn't even take off her apron before turning around and running towards the kitchen, her steps so light she almost jumped.
The pot was still cooling on the stove, so she quickly wiped her hands, stoked the firewood in the stove to make it burn brighter, and started thinking about what dish to cook to make it flavorful and fragrant.
Just then, Zhou Xiuli pushed open the door, and the hinges creaked open, startling the previously quiet atmosphere in the courtyard.
She had just peeked out halfway when a figure flashed in the yard, so she quickly pulled back and quietly peered through the crack in the door.
Zhou Nuli led in a thin, dark-faced man who had his head down and was dragging his feet as if he were stuck in the mud.
He was carrying an old cloth bag, the corners of which were worn and frayed, covered with dust and bits of grass.
He walked silently the whole way, without even raising his head.
Zhou Xiuli squinted and stared for a long time, craning her neck forward as if she wanted to press her eyes against the person's face.
Finally, she abruptly covered her mouth, her lips trembling, her voice extremely low but filled with surprise.
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