Jiang Huan's husband, Song Da Gui, also works at the public transportation company; he drives a tricycle with a tortoise shell-like cover. That's why Shen Meng was able to hail a ride so quickly at the station. She herself is a group leader for frontline workers at the Provincial City garment factory. The courtyard she rents is actually quite cheap, shared by several families, and cooking a meat dish can draw the neighboring kids over.
Eagerly they watch you; if you give them some, it pains you to part with it, and if you don't, seeing the pitiful look on the children hurts your heart. Life is quite stifling!
"Hey, why am I even talking about this? Girl, have some water. This is orange-flavored—nice, isn't it? Your brother-in-law got it when he drove someone to the station last time, a gift from that person!"
Shen Meng smiled and nodded; it was good, just that the saccharin inside was a bit throat-pricking.
