Zhou Shuren felt a pang of heartache and, at the same time, deeply admired Zhulan. She managed to eat at the family's banquet without letting anyone see her dislike. Zhulan endured the nausea and finished eating, and even chatted with people afterward—something he might not be able to match. He would be sick of the same dishes after just ten days, but men at their table could drink alcohol. The food was just a formality; nobody actually served dishes to them. He reached out and took Zhulan's hand. "I shouldn't laugh. It's all my fault. Do you want to hit me to vent your anger?"
Zhulan withdrew her hands. "Don't take the opportunity to take advantage of me, and don't say it's all for me. Aren't you doing this for the family too? I can't be much help with other things, but this little matter is nothing."
She was used to it in modern times, anyway; social interactions never really went as one wished!
