As she began her labor, Lady Zhao's face twisted into a look of distorted glee, seemingly gaining the upper hand in this silent confrontation.
"Do you really think you can turn things around on me, you ungrateful wretch?"
She chuckled softly to herself.
However, as night fell and Lady Zhao came to collect the clothes and shoes, a horrifying scene unfolded—ants swarmed the garments, and a snake as thick as a thumb slid out from the leg of a pair of trousers, causing her face to turn deathly pale, nearly screaming in fright.
With trembling fingers, she pointed at the pair of shoes that had been washed, her throat feeling blocked by a stone, difficultly swallowing her saliva.
Instinctive fear prevented her from touching any of it directly; she dared only to nudge it cautiously with a firewood stick from afar.
As the stick gently prodded the shoes, several black and red centipedes repulsively crawled out.
"You poisonous woman, you wretch!"
