Old Madam Sun’s face still retained hints of her youthful beauty, and her eyes were exceptionally clear, a rarity among those of her age, shining brightly.
"Right," Old Madam Sun suddenly touched Grandpa Sun’s clothes, "You haven’t told me yet, who made this? Such fine embroidery skills, how many years did it take to learn? Tell me, did some old lady send it to you?"
At this thought, Old Madam Sun suddenly became irritable. Just a moment ago she was all dignified, but now she seemed quite explosive. Such fine embroidery could not be achieved without decades of experience.
"What old lady?" Grandpa Sun continued to fiddle with his clothes, adoring them so much that he was now reluctant to wear them, planning to take them off and keep them aside for wearing during his birthday celebration.
He was not done admiring himself when suddenly the collar tightened, almost strangling him and making it hard to breathe.
"Old lady, the clothes, my clothes, be careful with the clothes," he quickly snatched his clothes back from Old Madam Sun’s grasp, the tugging at his heart painful.
"Tell me, who sent this?" The entire face of Old Madam Sun darkened, her eyes constantly glancing around, perhaps searching for something to hit someone with—maybe a broom, a mop, right, a kitchen knife; yes, that’s it, a kitchen knife. If this old man had taken a mistress, she would castrate him, yes, she was now going to find a kitchen knife, to castrate the old man.
"Old lady, what are you thinking about so wildly?" Grandpa Sun took off his clothes, neatly folded them, removed his shoes, wiped them clean, and placed them alongside the clothes, ignoring Old Madam Sun’s face that gradually turned stormy.
This was no mere cloudiness; it was more like a typhoon was brewing.
"Old lady, let me tell you..." Grandpa Sun excitedly pulled Old Madam Sun to sit down, once he started talking, he couldn’t stop.
"These clothes were made by a young girl. Though young, she writes beautifully with both hands; her left hand is gentle and her right hand is strong. The girl runs a Conghua pancake stall in the park. We old men, feeling hungry, often go there to eat one, filling our stomachs after morning exercises."
"You see, why don’t we have such a granddaughter? If I had a granddaughter like that, I would definitely nurture her well, making a bunch of old men envious to death."
Upon hearing this, Old Mrs. Lu understood, but she still found it hard to believe such embroidery skills could come without decades of practice. Yet, she became interested in the young girl Grandpa Sun mentioned, intent on meeting her personally.
"Grandpa Sun, the usual then?"
Qin Xiangnuan served a Conghua pancake, without adding any chili, tailored for Grandpa Sun. She remembered the dietary preferences of these elders who frequently ate breakfast at her place, like Grandpa Sun who didn’t eat chili, Mr. Huang who avoided shredded potatoes, Mr. Li who loved shredded potatoes and always wanted two portions, Granny Ma who ate anything and liked strong flavors, often having two pancakes, whereas Granny Li had a smaller appetite, so she served her less, ensuring she could finish without leftovers.
"Yes, the usual," said Grandpa Sun as he took the Conghua pancake, handing it over to Old Madam Sun, "Lass, make another one for Grandpa."