Han Ximing and Xue Hong stared at the ledger upstairs, their faces flushing at the sight of the glaring red deficit, a significant one at that. “If we don't receive enough gift money tomorrow, this is going to be an absolute farce,” Han Ximing muttered. He knew that deficit represented the banquet fees due the next day, and the thought of facing his in-laws without the funds—the sheer dishonor of it—made him sick.

“Exactly,” Xue Hong echoed, her own expression clouded with worry. Although she’d assured the old woman and her son in front of them that the wedding arrangements were handled and they shouldn't fret, telling their boy to just focus on being the groom, the trouble was that the little rascal had only asked about it once and then dropped the subject entirely. How could she not be furious? “Why don’t we just ask Luo Hongjuan for help?”

Xue Hong had already approached relatives in their circle, but the amounts she managed to borrow were negligible. To ask again, besides the slim chance of success, left her feeling utterly stripped of dignity.

Truthfully, Han Ximing intensely disliked the idea of approaching Luo Hongjuan. Even now, a sense of superiority clung to him, but borrowing money would utterly crush that pride. He remembered how, even after his brother passed, she, a woman raising a child alone through hardship, had never once returned home to ask for help. “I’m too embarrassed. If anyone’s going to ask, it should be you.”

Xue Hong glared at the man, firmly entrenched in his refusal to speak up. She jabbed a finger at her own nose. “Me asking? Do you have any shame? It’s your son’s wedding!” She thought of all the money she’d already borrowed, and this man hadn't uttered a single word of gratitude or initiative. Now, even asking Luo Hongjuan required her to swallow her pride. Xue Hong recalled the bitter fight they’d had previously. “You think I should be the one to ask? Have you forgotten the fight we had over your mother’s medical bills? Have you erased that from your memory already?”

“If you won’t ask, then I have no face to ask!” Han Ximing snapped, suddenly enraged. If Xue Hong hadn't brought it up, perhaps he could have let it slide. “If it weren’t for you, would things be this strained with my sister-in-law? And if you hadn’t spoiled that boy rotten, he wouldn’t have caused this much trouble. Just calculate how much we’ve poured into him.”

Xue Hong vehemently rejected his accusation. “So, my son turning out this way is all my fault? If your mother hadn’t protected him from childhood, would he have turned out so useless?” It made no sense. Han Tao, who possessed inferior qualities in every aspect compared to their Junjun, had somehow become so successful. Since childhood, everyone had said Junjun was clever and Han Tao was a slow learner, so naturally, their son’s mediocrity had to be the fault of that damned old woman. “In any case, I’m not handling it. And look at your precious nephew—it’s your son’s big day, and he hasn’t shown his face yet. What does that say?”

“He has his own things to attend to. You just look at our good-for-nothing son,” Han Ximing retorted sharply. He had always considered his son worthless, but as good news streamed in about Han Tao’s accomplishments, Han Ximing’s view of his own son crystallized: truly idle and a spendthrift. “Enough. When they arrive, don't wear a sour face. The situation isn't what it used to be; they absolutely won’t be looking to you for cues anymore.”

Xue Hong bristled at the comment. “Me giving them cues? It’d be a miracle if they gave me any respect! Now that they have money, they’ve gotten lofty.” She recalled Luo Hongjuan’s former look of hardship, and seeing her now filled Xue Hong with bitter envy—the clothes she wore, the way she spoke, all radiated how comfortably she lived now. “But her satisfaction won’t last long. Didn’t you notice Han Tao didn’t go to the States this time? Hmph. They say he’s attending Junjun’s wedding, but I bet those foreigners finally realized Han Tao isn’t all that great and ditched him.” She found a perverse comfort in this thought, especially since they’d boasted about Han Tao being admired by foreigners and securing internships there every winter break. Why wasn't he going this winter? She absolutely had to ask her about it later.

“Whether they want him or not, he’s still more successful than your son, marrying such a wealthy wife,” Han Ximing grumbled. The thought of his nephew marrying such a bride made his mouth water. Though his wife often scorned Wang Qiqi as having no future because she lacked wealthy parents, Han Ximing privately thought such a daughter-in-law was easier to handle. Look at their own in-laws: they spoke grandly about a larger dowry, and sure enough, they provided a house, but it was in the wife’s name. Could the in-laws control an asset registered to their daughter-in-law? It felt like a loss.

Xue Hong let out a derisive snort at her husband’s words. “Our daughter-in-law’s parents own a company. It might not be huge now, but its future prospects are good, and who will manage it eventually? Our son!” Xue Hong dreamed of eventually taking a seat in that company, wielding the authority of the boss’s mother.

Han Ximing looked at Xue Hong, already lost in her daydreams, and let out a few cold snorts before heading downstairs. He finally understood why their son always maintained such a high opinion of himself—it was clearly inherited from his parents' boundless self-confidence.

Luo Hongjuan sat in the taxi, glancing at Han Tao, who was quietly seated in the front. “I told you we should have left earlier, but now we’re definitely late.” If she hadn't doubled back home for that one forgotten item, she wouldn't have realized her son and daughter-in-law hadn't even left yet.

Han Tao sat calmly in the passenger seat. He responded to his mother’s agitation with a level tone. “What’s the rush? We aren't the main characters. Besides, when was the last time we were invited to the Han family ancestor worship? I suspect they called us back for a reason. Listen, Mom, when we get there, no matter if they boast about how wonderful the future daughter-in-law is or how successful Han Jun is now—just listen. Don't say anything about how great your son, I, am. And if they start whining about being poor, you whine right back.” Han Tao cautioned his mother, deeply worried she might accidentally put her foot in her mouth. He knew his aunt’s family was now doing well financially, and knowing Han Jun’s wedding was a grand affair, it likely drained a considerable sum. Considering how much Han Jun had cost them over the years, Han Tao feared this wedding might lead to a shortfall, and they would turn their attention toward them for loans. He needed to prepare his mother first.

Luo Hongjuan found her son’s worries excessive. “I visited them recently, and they said they had almost enough money; they wouldn’t ask us for a loan. Besides, I don’t have any money to lend anyway.” After being educated by Wang Damei these past few weeks, coupled with the knowledge that her son and daughter-in-law were still paying off the bank loan for the house in the capital, Luo Hongjuan was certain she’d have to be a fool to lend them money. She wasn't about to lend them funds only to watch her son and daughter-in-law struggle with bank interest. “Tao Tao, I still have some cash saved. After the holiday, I’ll have Qiqi bring it to the capital. Pay off a bit of that bank debt. If we can avoid debt, we should.”

“Mom, if you have money, use it to buy more property here,” Han Tao countered, genuinely reluctant to take his mother’s savings. He already felt guilty enough that she didn’t take money from him. “The houses here aren't expensive right now. You could buy one, hold it, and collect rent.” The housing prices in the capital were slowly creeping up. While the increase seemed subtle, it was enough to give Han Tao pause. In less than a year, prices had jumped thirty to forty percent. Of course, this was partly due to the initial base price being relatively low, but he felt his mother shouldn't rush to pay off the bank loan if she had capital. The loan was taken; they could just make the scheduled payments on time.

Buy more property? Luo Hongjuan was startled by her son’s suggestion. She desperately wanted to tell him that they would likely settle in the States eventually, and even if they returned, it would be to a major city, not this small town. There was no point investing here. Hadn't even Song Yao and her husband planned to move to the capital for better prospects soon? The world outside offered far better development opportunities than staying in this small city.

“Mom, we’re here. Remember what I said.” Han Tao had intended to offer some comforting words to his nervous mother, but as the familiar yet alien architecture of the destination came into view, he stopped himself. He gave her one last instruction, paid the fare, picked up their belongings, and stepped out of the car.

Luo Hongjuan looked at the drop-off spot, then at the heavy bags of tonics in her son and daughter-in-law's hands. “Why didn’t you have the car drive right in?” Although the items weren't heavy, they were bulky. Walking them all the way in seemed a bit ostentatious.

“We had to stop here.” Han Tao looked at the bags filling his hands and Wang Qiqi’s. The items hadn’t cost much; Song Ziwen and Gong Peixing had driven them over. As they put it, they had an excess of tonics meant for their father-in-law. Rather than let them expire and be thrown out, they might as well gift them to someone—and everyone knew who that someone was.

Luo Hongjuan looked at the brightly packaged mounds of tonics and pursed her lips. “These things look nice, but they’re really not as good as…” as a few actual chickens or pigeons.

“They didn't cost anything. They were gifts from Qiqi’s brother-in-law and brother,” Han Tao said softly. His mother was truly simple-hearted. Who paid attention to where gifts came from nowadays? She only cared that these tonics looked impressive. As for their actual efficacy, Han Tao thought, sorry, I’m not a specialist; I don’t know how effective these are. “Anything that doesn’t cost money is good. Besides, by tomorrow, word will spread that we brought back loads of high-end tonics.” If it was about putting on a show, anyone could do it. Gifting involved optics.

Although it was already dark when Han Tao and his group arrived, the surrounding area consisted of old houses inhabited by long-time neighbors. Within a short walk, Luo Hongjuan had exchanged greetings with several people. Han Tao noticed several neighbors staring pointedly at the tonics as they passed, likely concluding that he was being incredibly generous. In reality, these things were virtually worthless. [To be continued]