Yang Baixin walked ahead, with Madam Yang and Yang Zhilin following him. Guided by Uncle Tang’s instructions, they climbed the wooden stairs.
Step by step, they ascended to the high platform.
The three of them looked and saw that Xiao Jianming was not the only one seated here.
Yang Zhilin’s eyes immediately shrank to tiny circles, fixedly staring at Gu Nuan.
Yang Baixin walked up and greeted Xiao Jianming, extending a hand first, "Chairman Xiao, long time no see."
Xiao Jianming just turned his face, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly in a smile, but he did not take the offered hand, saying, "Please, have a seat."
Uncle Tang moved three stools over.
Seeing that it was stools, the Yang Family clearly showed disdain.
Yang Zhilin thought, if Gu Nuan could at least sit on an armchair, how could she sit on a stool?
Look at what Gu Nuan was wearing, it was leagues behind what she had on.
Gu Nuan had always been particular about clothes; as long as she felt comfortable and presentable, she did not need any special bespoke attire. Clothes bought from a store were just fine, as long as the fabric was clean and comfortable, and the colors were tasteful. There was nothing wrong with that.
Today, she wore a white shirt with a bit of embroidery, paired with a thin knitted cardigan, and acid-washed jeans underneath. To call her fashion outdated would be untrue, as she appeared elegantly at ease, with a touch of a traditional lady’s demeanor.
Xiao Jianming was well aware that her outfit was certainly not a designer brand, but looking at her attire, there was not a trace of contempt or criticism in his eyes. It was evident that he found nothing to fault with her clothing.
She was here today mainly to meet her father-in-law. Since he had no objections, the opinions of outsiders held even less significance for her—irrelevant as the dissipating smoke.
Yang Zhilin, no matter what, refused to sit down.
She wore designer clothing while sitting on a cold stool, while Gu Nuan sat in an armchair wearing items from Taobao? What a joke.
Yang Baixin sat down, smiling, and spoke to his wife and daughter standing diagonally behind him, "Let’s all sit down."
Sit down my foot. Madam Yang, sharing the same reluctance as her daughter, wasn’t thinking about the stools, but rather the sun beating down from the sky, the heat. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝✶𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮✶𝓷𝓮𝓽
The sun was scorching overhead. The three stools arranged by Uncle Tang were situated just outside the shade of the sun umbrella. Wasn’t this intentional difficulty? Was she expected to move a stool under the sunshade herself? How embarrassing!
Madam Yang wanted to take out her handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her forehead. If only she had known not to dress so heavily, feeling now as if she had come just to lose face. Covered in a sweat that mixed with perfume, wouldn’t she just reek? Moreover, she had not applied much sunscreen. If she continued to sweat under the sun, mixing with the powder on her face, wouldn’t she end up with a blotchy mess? And if her meticulously cared-for face got sunburned...
It wasn’t just about whether men would find it off-putting, but she herself would loathe it. What woman doesn’t cherish her own appearance the most?
Madam Yang took her handkerchief and covered her nostrils, eventually resigned after catching the sharp gaze of Yang Baixin, and with a frown, was about to sit down.
After all, they were here to ask for assistance.
In light of this, Gu Nuan suddenly felt that her father-in-law had indeed not treated her poorly.
He didn’t make her sit on a stool, nor allow her to bake in the scorching sun, and even thoughtfully prepared Hangzhou Chrysanthemum and red dates for her.
She had originally thought the old crocodile was like a weasel paying a New Year’s visit to the chickens, harboring ill intentions, but with the Yang Family’s stark contrast, she realized his style simply was what it was, without any malice.
Very straightforward, such was the manner of a man with a military background.
It appears that Bart at home had inherited this approach from the old crocodile, which explained why his mouth was particularly foul, speaking his mind freely and without harm.