Setting up the fish trap was a new event, and Zhang Yanping and Qiaoqiao immediately wanted to follow, but Seventh Uncle slapped the cutting board:
"Qiaoqiao, it's time to do the chores."
Qiaoqiao stood there stunned, then looked at Seventh Uncle, at Song Sancheng, and finally in the direction where Song Tan was heading, his expression becoming somewhat anxious.
He had fair skin and pure eyes; at this moment, with a pitiful look, Song Youde couldn't help but cough and subconsciously reached for his tobacco pipe, ready to say something.
But Seventh Uncle urged him again, "Hurry up and tidy up these white fungus, hang them out to dry."
"I was thinking..."
Qiaoqiao was still reluctant.
Seventh Uncle, however, glared at him: "Isn't your job to follow me?"
But checking the fish trap seemed so interesting!
Qiaoqiao wanted to speak, but Seventh Uncle's expression turned stern, completely different from his usual smiling, cooking demeanor.
At that moment, the courtyard fell silent.
