Chapter Thirty-Six
Ji Wanmei's expression darkened slightly, and she pursed her lips.
It was Yang Changhua and his son Yang Zhiping who were causing trouble again.
Anything involving this father and son inevitably revolves around the concept of 'interests'.
It's unclear what role Yang Changhua and his son played in the incident where Zuo Quangui was beaten.
What exactly is their purpose?
Ji Wanmei thought for a moment, then pretended to be an innocent and carefree girl, saying casually, "Dad, why did Deputy Director Yang have to speak up for Deputy Director Zuo? Making a big fuss about it will have a bad impact on the factory. As a deputy director, he shouldn't want to see something like this happen in our factory. But he insisted on making a big deal out of it. I don't think he has any good intentions."
As she sat down, she picked up a rice spoon and added rice to her father's bowl.
Ji Wanmei couldn't wait for her father to see through the hypocrisy of Yang Changhua and his son.
Especially in the area of external sales, Yang Changhua has been lining his own pockets and accepting bribes for many years, siphoning off a huge amount of profit from the factory.
Once Dad realizes this and no longer trusts Yang Changhua, and then quietly begins to take precautions and collect evidence, all the shady things Yang Changhua has done over the years will inevitably be irrefutable.
The key is that Yang Changhua handled things flawlessly and was very good at playing the good guy in front of Ji Xingguo. Those who had interests with him were also tight-lipped, forming a closed loop of mutual interests. As a result, over the years, almost nothing has been leaked.
However, Ji Xingguo only had some doubts at this point, but Yang Changhua had been an old friend of his for more than ten years, and he couldn't doubt him just because Yang Changhua only advocated for a serious handling of the matter.
Everything should be done according to rules and evidence.
Ji Xingguo pondered for a moment, then got up, went to the kitchen to wash his hands, and came out to sit down opposite Ji Wanmei. He glanced at the food on the table and exclaimed in surprise, "Meimei, your cooking skills are getting better and better! You're almost as good as your father!"
At the dinner table, Ji Wanmei still prepared three dishes and a soup.
Stir-fried shredded potatoes with vinegar, mushroom and sliced pork soup, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, and stir-fried greens.
These are all fairly common dishes, but because Ji Wanmei made the colors and plating so beautiful, they look incredibly appetizing.
Especially for scrambled eggs with tomatoes, she carefully scalded the tomatoes with boiling water first, and then peeled off the skin to make the tomatoes taste better.
The red tomato bits and yellow eggs are mixed together, and finally, a handful of green scallions are sprinkled on top as a garnish. Served on a white round porcelain plate, the red, yellow, white and green colors are quite beautiful.
In the oyster mushroom and pork slice soup, she added some finely shredded ginger to remove any fishy smell and enhance the flavor. She tore the oyster mushrooms into small pieces by hand and boiled them with the pork slices coated in starch for three minutes. The resulting soup was both fresh and delicious.
Ji Xingguo picked up the soup spoon and scooped a bowl of soup into it to taste.
"Mmm, it tastes great, very delicious." Ji Xingguo smiled happily. "I didn't expect that my Meimei would inherit her father's excellent cooking skills. She only cooked a few times and yet she's already mastered the essence. Not bad at all!"
"Dad's just saying nice things to flatter me. How can my cooking compare to yours?" That's what she said, but Ji Wanmei was still very happy to see that her father enjoyed the food she made.
She kept putting food into her father's bowl, saying, "Dad, you've worked hard all day, eat more."
The everyday life of an ordinary family is vividly portrayed at the dinner table between Ji Wanmei and her father.
At this moment, Ji Wanmei wished that her father's face could always keep that loving and cheerful smile.
She didn't want her father to get sick, nor did she want him to be deceived and betrayed by the person he trusted most, and she certainly didn't want him to see his life miserable.
Ji Wanmei knew that seeing her father's misfortune was more painful than stabbing him in the heart with a knife.
Ji Xingguo usually likes to pour some homemade liquor into a small glass and sip it leisurely while eating, but today he was probably thinking about something and stopped eating after eating two bowls of rice.
There was no drinking either.
Ji Wanmei knew her father was thinking, so she didn't disturb him. She cleared the table and dishes and went to the kitchen to clean up.
Washing the dishes for two people wasn't difficult, but Ji Wanmei rarely did these kinds of chores before, and her fingers were just too delicate.
After washing the dishes, she went back into the house, grabbed a face cream, and applied some to her hands.
Women these days don't pay much attention to hand care. At most, they'll buy some face cream to apply to their faces. But little do they know that doing housework, washing clothes and dishes can actually cause a lot of damage to their hands.
The hands of older housewives, due to years of housework, are much rougher than those of women who don't do much housework; even their knuckles are much thicker.
It looks awful.
Although Ji Wanmei didn't see herself as a pampered young lady who never lifted a finger, she would still help her father with some of the lighter chores.
But after the procedure, she still takes care of her skin as usual.
At that time, face creams were not expensive; a large bottle cost only one or two yuan.
She was willing to use it; she would just use it to wipe her hands, smearing a clump the size of her thumb on the back of her hand.
After wiping her hands, Ji Wanmei picked them up and saw that her slender, white fingers had returned to their original shape, and she was very satisfied.
After all, no girl doesn't love beauty, and besides, she's only eighteen.
Stepping out of the living room, she saw her father sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper, a habit he had every evening after dinner.
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