Chapter 1211 - 1183: Still Haven’t Learned the Lesson (Bonus for 1,800 Monthly Tickets)

Chapter 1211: Chapter 1183: Still Haven’t Learned the Lesson (Bonus for 1,800 Monthly Tickets)

The kid in her freshman year changed her name. Knowing Mr. Yu’s personality, he’d definitely want their kid’s name to match the second brother’s kid, right? Qian turned it over in her head a few times—like Sunshine, or Sunlit, or something—and none of them sounded very good, so she couldn’t help worrying about her daughter’s name.

Whether it’s Yu Yiguang or Yu Yigang, neither is much of a name.

But right now the whole family was immersed in the joy of adding a new member. By the time Mr. Yu rushed over, his third grandson was already born. Even though newborns are all wrinkly and kind of look the same, you still feel your own kid is the cutest. For a while the whole family was beaming, in an incredibly good mood.

Because it was a natural birth, they only needed three days of observation in the hospital; if mom and baby were fine, they could be discharged. That day Qian wanted to go see the freshman girl, and Qian’s mom went along with her.

Fugui was driving, and Qian and her mother were sitting in the back. Since they were all family, Qian’s mom didn’t bother to watch her tongue and opened her mouth to complain.

"I thought you married into some high-class family, but looking at it now, that ’high-class’ isn’t anything great."

"Mom, what are you going off about now? Why are you saying stuff like that out of nowhere?"

Qian felt her mother-in-law had never treated her mom badly, so why was her mom full of resentment?

"When people ask me what my son-in-law does, I can’t even tell them—this I can swallow. Now people ask me how much my son’s salary is, and I tell them, but they don’t believe it. New Year’s and my son-in-law disappears without a trace—what the hell? He’s not even as good as the guy selling cold noodles at the gate..."

Whenever people asked about Yu Minglang, Qian’s mom would hem and haw, so everyone thought he was doing something shady. That alone already made Qian’s mom pretty disgruntled.

Her son finally made something of himself, got into headquarters, and went in on his own merit. His salary went up in one shot. Qian’er’s mom would go out and brag, but people all thought she was bluffing, unwilling to believe that her son who’d never seemed ambitious could be that capable.

Fugui and Qian both burst out laughing.

"Haven’t you gotten used to that by now?"

"That I can endure. But look at the Yu Family—how is it that Yu Minglang is busy all year round? What can’t wait until after New Year to mess with? New Year’s and he’s still working! Why does everything have to be done specifically during the holidays?"

So that’s what this was about—she was standing up for her daughter.

In Qian’s mom’s eyes, being absent for New Year was really unacceptable. If in future he’s not home every single year during Spring Festival, what about her poor daughter?

"It’s a sudden job overseas. As the family you’re supposed to be understanding. Your son-in-law can’t be this busy forever."

Qian herself didn’t really care that much—she was used to it. That’s the nature of his work; there are so many holidays in a year, you’re bound to miss some together. She figured she had it pretty good: at least she still got to see him often. Those who stayed behind at home, year after year not seeing their husbands—who could they complain to?

"I don’t care. Anyway, if you have a baby in the future, no matter how busy he is he has to come back. He absolutely cannot leave you to give birth alone!" As a mother she didn’t want to think about anything else; she only thought of her daughter.

"What if he really can’t make it back?" Qian teased her.

"Can’t make it back..." Qian’s mom got stuck.

Normally always steady and composed, this time Fugui, for some reason, heard this mother–daughter conversation and cooperatively turned on the car CD. The melody of "Moon Reflected in Erquan" poured out.

The already emotional, menopausal old lady heard that tune and lost control completely. She pulled out a little handkerchief and wiped the corners of her eyes as tears fell.

"If you have a baby and he still doesn’t come back, that’s just too much."

"Exactly, I’d be lying on the hospital bed all bloody, my hand trembling as I reach up toward the sky—ah, I want my husband~"

Qian’s melodramatic description matched with that music was just impossibly tragic.

Qian’s mom felt her heart clench and cried even harder.

"My poor, doomed daughter! How did you end up marrying into such a family..."

"Enough, Fugui, change the track, don’t play this one." Seeing her mom sobbing so hard, Qian couldn’t bear to keep teasing her.

"Alright, alright, we’re just joking with you. Besides, my due date’s still months away. And say Xiaoqiang really isn’t around then—you guys from my side of the family will all be here, my mother-in-law will come too. There’s no way it’d end up with me giving birth all alone and pathetic. I was just trying to scare you."

This was called "collapse therapy": Qian took the thing her mom feared most, voiced it in a joking way, brought it out into the open, then gave her a reasonable explanation to soothe the old lady. That way, she wouldn’t spend the next few months overthinking it.

"You girl, using your own mother as a punchline!" Qian’s mom meant to tap her daughter on the forehead, but halfway there her hand swerved to the seat and she stabbed the seat hard instead.

"Pfft! Mom, are you practicing the One Yang Finger now?"

Fugui had listened to this mother–daughter banter the whole way and was laughing so hard his stomach hurt.

Was this a mother–daughter conversation or a crosstalk performance? One line after another, it was just too hilarious.

"Practicing what! I’m just afraid if I poke your head my grandson will be born with a lump on his! There are rules about everything."

"You’re being superstitious again! Mom, you had your hair burned off already, how is your worldview still this narrow? Where do all these ’rules’ even come from?" Qian was totally speechless about her mom, who believed in God-knows-what every day.

"Bah, bah, bah! You girl, don’t just say anything that pops into your head. From now on you can’t talk nonsense, understand? You say the worst things when you’re pregnant. If you want to have a son, when people ask you, you tell them you’re carrying a daughter. And in daily life you should talk to Minglang about ’our daughter this, our daughter that’. But anything besides the baby’s gender you absolutely cannot just say randomly. For example, saying the man won’t be home when you give birth—that kind of thing, you can’t say it. What if it really comes true? Ai, my hair got burned on New Year’s, so unlucky. I need to go burn more incense and donate more incense money..."

Qian was truly at a loss for words at the old lady’s stubbornness, and turned to complain to Fugui.

"Fugui, don’t you think all this folk talk is really bizarre? A whole bunch of totally baseless sayings, yet somehow they form their own complete system. This full set of rules has been passed down for so many years, and so many people still believe them. They’re practically more universally convincing than us psychologists."

"Yeah, all these systematized sayings are the life experience our ancestors summed up over long ages. Even if some sound ridiculous, there were reasons behind why they formed." Fugui’s field overlapped with Qian’s in some ways, so they had common ground talking about this stuff.

"That’s true. A lot of superstitious sayings can actually be explained scientifically." Qian glanced at her mom and casually asked:

"Mom, in that superstitious brain of yours, is there a saying that there can’t be a beam in the bedroom?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Having a beam in the bedroom is very unlucky. That one affects the relationship between the man and woman of the house. If a family’s bedroom has a beam, that means they’ve provoked ’killing energy’; the couple’s relationship will be disharmonious!"