Zhang Baoxiang’s face grew increasingly troubled as she listened to her husband.
"No matter what, we’re still their elders. Did you hear what Wenhui said? Does he treat me like an elder?" she fumed, anger rising at the thought.
Ye Bingkun looked coldly at Zhang Baoxiang. "All these years, have you ever acted like an elder?"
Seeing her husband’s attitude, Zhang Baoxiang retorted, "Is that my fault? We’re both their aunts, but look how differently they treat Shi Jingfang compared to me. Are you blind?"
Ye Bingkun saw it was pointless to continue arguing. "Whenever something happens, you always blame others first. You’re simply unreasonable."
With that, he got up and walked outside.
Seeing him about to leave, Zhang Baoxiang cried out, "With such a huge issue at home, where do you think you’re going?"
Without turning his head, Ye Bingkun threw back, "I’m going out for some fresh air."
Angered, Zhang Baoxiang threw the enamel lid in her hand. "Is the air in this house not good enough for you? You have to go out for more..."
Then, she cursed softly toward the door, "I bet you’re thinking about that slut again."
Ye Wenjuan turned and went back into her room, slamming the door shut with a BANG.
The sound startled Zhang Baoxiang. For a long while, she couldn’t figure out what she had said wrong to upset her eldest daughter again.
Ye Wenjuan’s thoughts unwittingly turned to the man she yearned for, a sharp pain clenching her heart.
He didn’t like her. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get any closer to him.
That was why she wanted to join the cultural troupe—to be closer to him. She hoped he would see she was different, hoped that one day his gaze would linger on her.

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