Chapter 178: Chapter 178: Want to Drink Rice Porridge
It was clear they were all a ‘losing deal,’ yet the treatment they received was worlds apart.
Oh God, why must you be so unfair!
Zhaodi cried out in her heart, outrage sparkling in her eyes, which Jiang Changhai happened to catch a glimpse of.
He immediately frowned, what was Zhaodi’s issue, why was she looking at Mianmian with such eyes?
Seeing her eyeing her daughter’s rice bowl intently, he understood right away.
It turned out she was jealous that her daughter could eat white rice.
But this rice, he had bought with money he earned through his own efforts for his daughter, and he was not shy about it; he even took pride in it.
“Wife, I think we’re running low on rice at home; I’ll buy some more for Mianmian in a couple of days,” he said.
Ever since Director Zhou had given Jiang Changhai money in front of the Jiang family members, the money he had previously earned from his business dealings had seen the light of day.
He could finally provide his daughter with better food openly!
So he specifically sought out Old Niu in the black market and bought a bag of white and millet rice, especially for Jiang Mianmian’s consumption.
Sometimes he and his wife would have a meal of it too, offering a bowl to the elderly couple, although it mostly ended up in the stomachs of the two nephews, but most of it went into Jiang Mianmian’s stomach.
Occasionally, they would even secretly buy some cooked food from town and eat it hidden away in their room, the three of them.
Hearing this, Zhang Guihua glared at him in annoyance, “You just spoil your daughter. You forget your own mother is still eating coarse grains. Unfilial son, I raised you for nothing.”
She had protested against Jiang Changhai’s partial treatment of Jiang Mianmian and even tried to persuade her eldest son to let Zhiwen and Zhiwu eat white rice as well.
But Jiang Changhai firmly rejected it: If they wanted to eat white rice, let them go to their own parents; he, an uncle from another household, couldn’t possibly take on the responsibility of feeding his nephews.
Fearing his mother would secretly cook for the two nephews, Jiang Changhai even took the sack of rice into his own room and locked it up.
He only allowed Su Wanyu to take out the rice when it was time to cook each day.
Although Zhang Guihua was angry, she did not stop them from making special meals for Jiang Mianmian. After all, even though they couldn’t eat white rice, at least the grandchildren could drink the rice soup.
After all, rice soup was a rare delicacy and very nutritious.
Eventually, Zhaodi could no longer stomach the coarse grains in her bowl and handed the remaining food to the closest Da Ya.
Da Ya looked at the extra half bowl of rice in surprise, “Zhaodi, why aren’t you eating?”
Zhaodi said pale and weakly, “Sister, I feel sick and have no appetite, you eat it.”
“Zhaodi, you’re still ill; how can you not eat? Please eat your rice,” Da Ya said as she tried to put the rice back.
“Sister, I really can’t eat it, please go ahead, we have to clear the table soon,” Zhaodi said, then stood up, planning to return to her room and lie down.
Seeing her frail and slim back, Zhao Xiaojuan frowned with immense worry.
After all, at this time, food was extremely valuable, and if she couldn’t even finish her meal, it meant she was really suffering.
Realizing Zhaodi truly wasn’t going to eat, Da Ya, not wanting to waste, divided some of it among her two younger sisters and hurriedly scooped the rice into their mouths.
The girls usually ate only until they were eighty percent full, but now having a few extra bites brought them to full satisfaction.
But by just before nine o’clock that evening, Zhaodi’s stomach began growling with hunger.
Zhaodi rubbed her flat belly and clung to Zhao Xiaojuan’s arm affectionately, “Mom, I’m hungry; I want to drink some rice porridge.”
Counting the day, she had only had a bowl of lean meat porridge and two eggs.