Meng Yunhan's temper flared up as well when she heard the words of her husband. Clearly, the man had never lost his temper with her, but now, because of this wretched girl, he was scolding her. She raised her voice and yelled, "Good, very good! Han Yichen, I have given birth to five children for you and toiled away with you in the countryside. And yet you dare say such words to me? Jianyou is still studying in high school, and we need to collect a dowry for Ziyan and her. Do you think that by just running your mouth, we can collect money?"
"So what? Even if I don't earn much with the pig farm, it's not that bad either. And even if I don't earn enough money, don't we still have ten thousand yuan of savings? We can easily split it up. Two thousand yuan for Jianyou's studies, four thousand yuan for Ruochen and two thousand yuan for Ziyan. The remaining two thousand can be used for our retirement. What's there to make a fuss about three or four yuan milk cartons?"
