The money in the drawer was neither more nor less, precisely one thousand three hundred and fourteen.
1314.
Mingzhu turned her head to look at the man beside her.
The look of grievance and dissatisfaction on the man's face had disappeared, replaced by doting and a smile.
"Happy Qixi Festival, wife."
For a moment, Mingzhu was at a loss for words, and her eyes became slightly moist.
She felt an inexplicable urge to cry, unsure whether it was out of embarrassment or being touched.
Under the light, the man's left ear was a bit red—where she had pinched him just before.
She had thought he was secretly saving up some personal money and had not been gentle in her approach.
She raised her hand to rub his ear, "Sorry, I wronged you."
"A beating is affection, a scolding is love; your beating and scolding are the deepest love for me."
Mingzhu was just amused by his poor attempt at humor when Guoguo beside her suddenly started clapping her little hands, "Mommy is laughing."
