Old Lady Zhao had just stepped out of the door when Chuxia entered the house right behind her, gathering all the dirty clothes that the old couple had changed out of. Old Master Zhao was long accustomed to his youngest daughter's diligence and filial piety and didn't stop her. Holding his dry tobacco pipe, he puffed away and said, "Your mother likes to wait until there's a pile to wash, but somehow the pile always ends up in your hands. Chuxia, do you think your mother is being lazy on purpose, saving them all for you to wash?"
Chuxia knew that Old Master Zhao was just teasing her, but she couldn't help defending Old Lady Zhao: "Dad, I grew up right in front of my mother's eyes. It's not like I don't know her habits; she's doing it to save on soap."
"What's there to save? You have to use soap for each piece anyway. I think your mother is just lazy." Old Master Zhao continued, poking Chuxia, "Chuxia, do you think what your grandpa is saying is right?"
