"Dad, what were you saying about clay pots and jars?" Ye Chenghu watched them speaking in riddles, curious.
Only after Ye Chenghai and the others had all chimed in with explanations did he slap his thigh, regretting that he had missed out and hadn't heard about it right away.
"I want to do it too! Me too! I want to play! I'm going to ask Mom for some jars..." Ye Chenghu dashed back inside like a gust of wind.
Ye Chengyang only half understood what he had heard, but since his older brother had run off, he naturally followed him inside.
Except when they fought, the brothers were usually inseparable. Wherever the older one went, the younger one followed.
But Lin Xiuqing was busy rinsing rice to start lunch. She had no time for the brothers and chased them both back out.
They went to rummage through the burlap sack in the corner by the door themselves. With a clattering sound, they dumped the bottles and jars inside all over the ground.
Most were the Malt Milk jars they had emptied. They could be used for storage, so A Qing couldn't bear to sell them to the scrap collector and had kept collecting them there. There were plenty of other jars from canned foods too.
Now it wasn't just the brothers who were excited. Everyone else stopped working and gathered around, asking for some.
Ye Chenghu couldn't bear to share any and refused them all. "Go find some at your own homes. These are mine! I don't even have enough for myself. How can I give you any? Go home and look yourselves."
If they could go home, would they have stayed here doing hard labor? They would have gone home and turned the place upside down long ago.
"You