She glanced at Zhou Lihua, whose heart and eyes were filled with nothing but those fabrics, and suggested, "Why don't we have the people from our Maternal Grandfather's family make them too?"
"People only need to look at these things a few times and think them over before they can make them. The more people we have making them, the better. We can earn a huge sum all at once."
The most important thing was that her mother had often gone back to her family to mooch off them.
Unfortunately, her Maternal Grandfather's family was in a special situation. He had five sons, but only one daughter—her mother—and she had been born to him in his old age. Her grandmother had doted on her to the point of spoiling her rotten.
Her daughter had been married off for more than ten years, yet whenever there was anything good, the old woman would hide a portion away, preparing to give it to her youngest daughter when she came home.
Her mother was lazy, gluttonous, and shameless. She never cared about the expressions on her sisters-in-law's faces. Every time she returned home, she would take a layer of grease off them.
Otherwise, Su Qiao and her mother would never have managed to grow so plump despite being so poor.
When the old man heard this, he also found it reasonable. After thinking for a moment, he said, "Why don't we find a few nimble-fingered, reliable families in the village too?"
Su Qiao could not have wished for anything more. "Sure, but we don't have much fabric."
"If we don't have enough fabric, we'll buy more. Go to town again tomorrow and bring back a larger supply."
The old man was not timid or afraid of trouble. In any case, the money had