"Mama! I can't lift it, this wooden basin is too heavy." The young girl's tender voice echoed in the room, accompanied by sniffles.
"Alright, alright! Leave it there! You shed tears of gold over a few words. Go to the courtyard and wash the vegetables; it's time to cook. Your father is hungry after forging iron, so we need to prepare the meal soon."
Mrs. Zhang looked at her daughter in front of her and felt a wave of irritation. She felt sluggish, didn't want to do anything, craved sour foods, got angry over little things, and never seemed to sleep enough.
This made Mrs. Zhang think of a possibility; maybe she was pregnant? Little Yue was already four years old, and her belly had remained silent. She had even consulted a doctor, who said there was nothing wrong.
Since they had Little Yue, her husband obviously wasn't the problem, but she just couldn't conceive again. This made her temperament more irritable, and she found Little Yue increasingly displeasing.
