Seventh Uncle also felt helpless:
"You, a young man pushing the mill, can still end up like this. Have you considered whether you could do it properly?"
"Besides, I was planning to stir-fry some soybeans as a snack tonight, and someone needs to flip the beans... are you still going to eat if you're like this?"
Seventh Uncle cooking at night was purely overtime work, and he didn't have the patience for flipping beans; it needed someone to slowly roast them.
He couldn't bear to have Qiaoqiao work overtime late into the night either.
"I'll eat!" Zhang Yanping sprang up quickly: "I can't lift my arms, but I can still use the stir fry ladle, and there's nothing wrong with my mouth."
…
Qiaoqiao had already set up the phone bracket in the corner, the rear camera capturing an unobstructed view of the situation in the yard.
Including the bucket of yellow clay he was showing off up close.
