She saw Yang Chenglin holding 100 taels of silver and a set of stationery in Mrs. Cui's room. He was showing off to Yang Chengsen. "So? You lost to me, didn't you? I told you long ago that it doesn't matter, even if you're your mother's biological son.
"I'm still the family's legitimate son; you can never surpass me."
"Impossible! My mother must be doing this for my own good." The eight-year-old Yang Chengsen shouted anxiously.
He threw herself into Mrs. Chui's arms and said, "Mother, mother, please. You have to give me 100 taels of silver as pocket money too."
"There's also the stationary. No, I don't want that. I remember that my father bought a few small wolf-hair quills. I just want one small one..."
"Chengsen, don't mess around. Your father bought the wolf hair quills to write memorials..."
