Although Zhang Xiaohua kept saying there was no rush, how could Zhang Cai bear to let the son who had returned from the brink of death go hungry?
Before they had taken more than a few sips of tea, Guo Sufi and Li Jinfeng's mother returned from next door. Aunt Li saw Zhang Xiaohua and thanked him profusely again. Zhang Xiaohua was somewhat speechless. He had only done one good deed, yet they had thanked him three or four times in a row. Just thinking about it made him feel ashamed.
Li Yinfeng was sent to the neighboring courtyard to watch the child, while the two elders bustled about in the kitchen. The Zhang family was no longer the impoverished Zhang family of five years ago. Moreover, with Liu Kai and his wife, as well as Li Jinfeng's family of four, having come to stay, the Zhang household had long prepared ample ingredients. Before the sky had fully darkened, they had laid out a table brimming with sumptuous dishes.
The brightly lit main hall, the enormous table, the noisy room—Zhang Xiaohua found it somewhat unfamiliar, yet incomparably warm. Time could change many things, but it could not change family affection or friendship.
The only thing that made Zhang Xiaohua jealous was that his mother merely hurriedly placed the braised pork before him, watched him pick up and eat the largest piece with her own eyes, then wiped away the tears in her eyes and went off to care for her newborn little grandson.
Hah, it seems the focus of this family has shifted from me to that little fellow.
Although Li Yinfeng and Aunt Li also needed to go next door to help care for them, they were guests after all, and Zhang Cai insisted that they eat here first.