Chapter 122: Get the Recipe for Bologna

Chapter 122

Doctor Wu had taught them so much knowledge, and now it all came in handy.

Taking the pulse, diagnosing, selecting medicine, administering acupuncture—it took Wen Zhiyun a full half hour before he finally emerged from the room with his small medicine box on his back.

His expression was a little ugly, with fatigue in his brow.

Jiang Sheng and Zheng Ruqian hurried over anxiously, “Fourth brother, are you okay?”

Wen Zhiyun shook his head, his gaze settling on the Wang siblings.

The anxiety moved to a new place as Wang Xiaosong’s palms grew clammy. He stared steadily at Wen Zhiyun and said, “Doctor, just tell us plainly—our mother has been ill for years, we’re mentally prepared.”

Wang Xiaozhu covered her face again and sobbed.

But before Wen Zhiyun could speak, a soft call came from inside the room: “Xiaosong, Xiaozhu.”

It was their mother.

“Mother!” Wang Xiaozhu shrieked and rushed into the room.

In her hurry, her skirt tripped her at the threshold. She crawled forward desperately on hands and knees straight into the inner room.

“Xiaozhu, you’ve gotten so thin these days. Haven’t you been eating properly?” the gentle voice asked. “Wait a moment, mother will make you something tasty.”

Wang Xiaozhu nodded tearfully. “I want to eat the pancakes mother makes.”

There were sounds of rummaging around in the room, as if someone really was making dough.

Outside, Wang Xiaosong's eyes were red.

Compared to his sister's naivety, he was a bit more mature and knew their mother had already passed on. How could she possibly wake up, much less make pancakes?

"Doctor, what exactly is wrong with my mother?" His voice trembled. "Is mother well, or..."

A flash before death?

Wen Zhiyun nodded heavily confirming the answer.

No matter how skilled the doctor, they couldn't bring back someone at death's door. At most, they could briefly rally before the final mercy of the King of Hell.

Tears rolled down Wang Xiaosong's cheeks.

He thanked Wen Zhiyun. "I thought these would be my mother's final days, but I didn't expect to be able to speak with her properly again. Please pardon us for not being able to host you further."

After speaking, the youth rushed into the room to cherish the final moments with his mother.

The estate had been bought by his parents for ten taels of silver. Just because they were blood relatives, they had only stamped handprints and not gone through proper official deeds. Now the paper contract was worthless, and the name on the deed was still the grandfather's.

The true young masters were now forcibly driven out.

They didn't even have time to bury their mother.

"Inauspicious! We came too late and let the woman die right in the yard,” Wang Xiaosong’s uncle complained.

Another placated him, “No matter. We’ll rebuild anyway. This tattered house isn’t livable."

Wang Xiaosong's eyes were red with hatred. He rushed into the kitchen to grab a cleaver, prepared to fight to the death.

Fortunately Jiang Sheng appeared in time to stop him.

Wang Xiaozhu murmured through teary eyes, “Uncle wasn’t like this before. Why did he change? Why?”

Because poverty makes people bullies.

Because adversity reveals true feelings.

The smiles during prosperity were mostly false courtesy. Only the hands extended during hardship were genuine.

Chang Yan, who had been silent all this time, suddenly stood in front of Wang Xiaosong. Looking up, he said, "Rather than rush in and get yourself killed, live properly and surpass them in the future, stepping them beneath your feet."

Be better than them, stronger than them. Mock their weakness, deride their foolishness.

Everyone harbored some level of resentment in their hearts. If rage took over and one acted on impulse, it would only lead to mutual destruction.

It was better to focus on self-improvement, and one day stand at a height they couldn't even look up to see, letting them gaze up in awe.

Only then could those hopes be fulfilled.

The cleavers slipped from Wang Xiaosong's hands and crashed to the floor.

Seeing his words had struck home, Chang Yan said no more.

Zheng Ruqian sighed. “Bury the deceased first.”

The children worked together from noon to afternoon before finally laying Mrs. Wang to rest.

Wang Xiaosong made a wooden gravestone and knocked his head three times.

“Mother, I will take care of my sister properly. We will live well, don’t worry, absolutely don’t worry.”

He turned back to Jiang Sheng. “The sausage recipe you wanted, I memorized it all. I’ll write it down on paper later.”

Jiang Sheng's eyes lit up.