Qiao Yuanming said helplessly, "Mother, Cuiliu just feels that our house is too small, after all, the children have all grown up—"
"Shut your mouth!" Madam Zhao yelled, "Don't think I don't know what you're all thinking. Now that you're making money, you want to abandon the elderly and live a good life, right? What did you say at the beginning? That when the son earns money, he will definitely take good care of you both. Sweet words are easy to say, but now that you actually have the money, you want to pat your buttocks and leave?"
Madam Liu had been holding back, but when she heard this, her anger flared up: "Since mother still remembers such things from the past, what about when Muniang's embroidery room was ruined? What did you say to me then? We have separated from the Qiao family; you better move out quickly, don't let the lord bring trouble to our house."
