Qiao Xiaomai had no idea about the dispute that had arisen in the Tong Family because of her. She was preparing tofu by the dim light of the kitchen oil lamp, and by the time Qiao Changshun returned with a limp, she had already pressed the stone mill again.
By then, the yellow soybean and pig's foot soup was ready. Qiao Xiaomai carried the pottery jar back into the kitchen, made some cold tofu, and the three family members began to eat dinner around the small dining table.
"Dad, the folks from the old courtyard didn't give you a hard time, did they?" Qiao Xiaomai asked, while savoring the fragrant pig's foot soup.
Qiao Changshun shook his head, "No trouble, your grandfather simply said to distribute some tofu to your third and fourth uncles' families tomorrow."
Qiao Xiaomai let out a breath of relief after hearing this.
"Later, we'll send some to Aunt Guilan, and the rest will be delivered to the town tomorrow."
"Alright." Qiao Changshun agreed.
