Zhang Minghua still shook her head and patted her hand, "An old person always enjoys lively surroundings, but your dad surely won't agree."
Yang Peimin didn't try to persuade further because the customs here were such that unless the house couldn't accommodate everyone, or one of the parents had died, the family wouldn't easily split up.
And Zhang Minghua was just making casual remarks. In the end, she still hoped to live with her children. Yang Peimin, thinking about her own feelings as an expecting mother, could very well understand.
The days had been growing dark quickly, and by a little after three in the afternoon, Zhang Minghua had already asked her daughter-in-law to start preparing dinner by slaughtering a chicken.
