At once, Yang Chuxia was irritated, especially seeing Ms. Luo feeding that three or four-year-old brat from the fourth branch of the family, who spat out every mouthful of porridge that he took in. Didn't this seem intentional? The third branch had no porridge to eat, yet the fourth branch was wasting it!
Yang Chuxia threw her washcloth into the basin and charged straight over to Ms. Luo. She walked right up to her and, without saying a word, snatched her bowl. "I don't think little sister Dong Xue is hungry, but Auntie Luo filled such a big bowl of porridge, just feeding on one side and wasting on the other. Do you think our family's food comes from flooding? If you don't want to eat, fine! My little sister is starving. Auntie Luo must be blind, not even able to count how many people are in the house. Even when cooking rice, she manages to shortchange some and leave others out. This time, fine, but if I see it happen again, whoever cooked, their whole branch won't eat."
