The meal was eaten in a heavy and oppressive silence; Yang Zhigang and Wang Baoxing couldn't even enjoy their drinks, hastily drank a glass, and then started eating. Yang Zhigang headed home.
Upon arriving home, he saw Wang Pandi, with her seven-month pregnant belly, bending over to wash dishes. He quickly stepped forward and took over the task himself, complaining, "I told you to leave this work for me to do when I come back, but you just won't listen."
Wang Pandi stepped back, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, feeling sweet inside. "I'm not that delicate; there are others with big bellies who still get all sorts of work done."
Yang Zhigang boasted shamelessly, "They're them, and you're you. Those who still have to work simply have useless men; how can they compare with me?"
Wang Pandi laughed lightly, playfully praising him, "Of course, there's no comparison. My man is one-of-a-kind."
