"This doesn't seem right, I'm sturdy like an ox, don't really need this..."
"Oh come on, big brother, if you don't eat it, you can give it to your family." Wu Lan, who just finished preparing the lamb and was rubbing her hands, said warmly:
"Little Yang said his mom loves taking care of herself. Since you're strong, don't eat it, give it to his mom, this is particularly good for health! I used to have backaches, but ever since Xiao Guo arranged these for me, I've never felt that way again."
"There's not much in total. Last year Xiao Guo couldn't supply enough, so he kept some for himself and didn't sell it—just 3 boxes, 21 capsules, exactly enough for your wife for a month."
Mr. Yang looked at the energetic crowd in the yard, Song Sancheng taking the basket with ease, and the thick black hair on his and Wu Lan's heads. Somehow, despite initially refusing, he felt a bit of a loss.
He had to muster a response:
"Oh."
