Chapter 138: It Is Better for Mothers-in-Law and Daughters-in-Law to Live Apart

Steam billowed inside the kitchen as Du Yun busied herself in front of the large iron pot. Just moments earlier, while the grandmother and the others were having their meal, Du Yun had managed to secure permission with just a few words to prepare fresh food for her own mother, and she now set to work.

However, Du Yun's grandmother stood beneath the eaves outside the door, watching the movements of Du Yun and Du Zhi. Her gaze was as sharp as a physical entity, piercingly fixed on the way they handled the ingredients, leaving Du Yun with a helpless, wry smile.

"Granny, would you like to eat a bit more?" Du Yun asked, noticing her grandmother staring intently at her hand holding the flour bag, as if scooping even an extra spoonful of cornmeal were equivalent to carving out her very heart.

"I'm not particularly hungry, you girls go ahead and cook!" Du Yun's grandmother waved her hand dismissively, though she subconsciously swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

*Sigh!* Du Yun sighed inwardly, figuring she ought to set aside a portion for her grandmother after all, and proceeded to scoop another half-bowl of flour from the bag she had just intended to close.

As her grandmother watched, the corners of her eyes twitched violently, and even the wrinkles on her face seemed to droop a fraction lower. Though Du Yun's hands moved swiftly, her spiritual awareness remained fixed on her grandmother. Her reactions made it abundantly clear that she was currently locked in an intense internal struggle, desperately wishing she could snatch that bowl of flour right back out of the mixing basin.

Seeing her grandmother reduced to such meticulous calculations for the sake of survival, Du Yun's initial feelings of resentment toward her faded slightly.

Her mother had it hard. Not long after marrying into the Du family, the family fortunes had collapsed. Ever since, she had lived a life of extreme thrift under the oppressive shadow of her mother-in-law, not daring to draw a full breath. Her once-outgoing personality had been forcefully crushed into that of a silent, timid woman, a transformation that broke Du Yun's heart.

Yet, had her grandmother had it easy? As Du Yun scooped the flour to prepare the evening meal for her family of four, she pondered this question. When her mother had married in, she was merely a daughter-in-law. But as the mistress of the household at the time, must her grandmother not have borne an even heavier pressure?

Domestically, the family's wealth had vanished in an instant; externally, mountains of debts had piled high with nowhere to turn for solace. Above her, elderly family members hung on the precipice of death; below, children cried out for food. Such overwhelming burdens had pressed down squarely upon the shoulders of her grandparents. Just how immense must the strength and perseverance have been to carry her grandmother through those dark times? Just how harshly must she have forced herself to endure, step by step, emerging from such a hopeless abyss to reach the state they were in today?

Du Yun felt deep pity for her mother, but she also pitied her grandmother. She wanted both of these women who cherished her to live happy, joyful lives. Yet decades of ingrained habits could not be altered overnight—take, for instance, her grandmother's prohibition against her mother eating fully, or her instinctive urge to make Du Yun use less flour.

Du Yun subconsciously shook her head, casting these complex thoughts aside to focus on kneading the lump of dough in her hands. The long walk home had drained a significant amount of her physical strength, leaving her stomach feeling entirely hollow. She knew she had to eat a proper meal to replenish her energy.

However, under her grandmother's palpable, watchful gaze, the likelihood of adding eggs or meat to the evening meal was practically zero. She decided it would be easiest to simply make some small, flat pancakes. Using some pastry-making ingredients she had on hand, she mixed in crushed fresh corn kernels, shredded winter squash, and other vegetables, blending them into a batter to fry into thin, delicate pancakes.

The Du family rarely ate meat and seldom cooked stir-fried dishes; the large iron cooking pot lacked even a trace of grease. Du Yun used a small piece of gauze dipped in a little lard to wipe down the iron surface, then scooped up a large ladleful of batter and poured it in.

*Sizzle, sizzle.* Heat gradually rose, and holding a small wooden spatula, Du Yun swept it across the bottom of the pan, spreading the thin batter evenly outward.

Within moments, a rich fragrance drifted up from the base of the pan. A delicate scent of corn blended with the aroma of fresh vegetables, slowly wafting through the kitchen. Standing at the doorway, Du Yun's grandmother could not help taking a deep, involuntary breath. Her stomach, which had only been half-filled with thin rice gruel, seemed to begin rumbling all over again.

Looking slightly embarrassed, Du Yun's grandmother turned her head away. The expression on her face softened marginally; she parted her lips as if to say something, then closed them again, her gaze turning somewhat vacant.

The children, who had been running around playing outside, stopped their games and crowded against the kitchen window sills. A neat row of dark little heads pressed close, staring intently at the thin pancakes gradually turning golden-brown inside the pan, unable to hold back their drooling.

"Elder sister, when can we eat?" Du Yin was the youngest and the closest to Du Yun. Standing on a large rock beneath the window, she still had to stand on tiptoe just to see inside the kitchen, and she swallowed hard as she spoke.

"It'll be ready in just a moment!" Seeing Du Yin's flushed, expectant little face, Du Yun's spirits lifted as well. She quickened her pace, and in the blink of an eye, stacked rounds of golden, thin pancakes were lifted out of the pan.

A tall stack of golden pancakes was served onto the table. Seated around it were naturally the three who hadn't eaten yet—Du Yun's mother, Du Dubo, and Du Yin—along with Du Yun herself, who had cooked the meal. Together, they barely filled even a corner of the small platform kang table.

"Granny, have a taste of this too!" Seeing her younger siblings, who had already eaten, standing by the east room doorway and drooling, and then glancing at her grandmother sitting cross-legged on the kang in her own room with her eyes closed in deep thought, Du Yun brought out another small stack of pancakes and placed them beside her.

"Hmm, I know," Du Yun's grandmother grunted, slowly opening her eyes. Her expression softened slightly as she looked at the pancakes placed beside her by Du Yun, accompanied by a small dish of soybean paste and carefully sliced strips of cucumber and scallion.

"Eat up." Du Yun's grandmother waved a hand to dismiss Du Yun, then looked around at the circle of hungry grandchildren with their thin, emaciated frames all swallowing in envy. Her heart softening involuntarily, she picked up a single pancake for herself and told the rest to divide the remaining portions amongst themselves.

By this time, Du Yun had returned to her own room. Sitting cross-legged on the kang, she took a golden-brown pancake, smeared it with sauce, rolled up some scallions and cucumber inside, and took a gentle bite. The rich flavor immediately filled her mouth and lingered on her teeth, instantly improving her mood.

Glancing up at her mother, who was eating with a somewhat timid and nervous air—and recalling how radiant her mother had looked while eating back at her maternal grandmother's house—a thought gradually began to sprout in Du Yun's mind.

Since her grandmother and mother always struggled to get along under the same roof, and there was no way to definitively assign blame to either party, perhaps they simply ought to live separately. Familiarity breeds contempt, while distance makes the heart grow fonder. If they weren't eating from the same pot and didn't cross paths every single day, perhaps the friction would finally cease.

It seemed that making a fortune and building a new house were matters that needed to be pursued with utmost urgency!