"How could it cost so much?"
Dong Lihua gasped in shock at the figure.
"Sister-in-law, are you sure you didn’t make a mistake? Don’t tell me you’ve mixed up the expenses for the other branches with Tingtao’s."
Mother Huo had anticipated this reaction. She pulled out the stack of receipts tucked behind her notebook.
"When the eldest and second sons got married, the 'Three Turns and One Sound' wasn’t in fashion yet. Back then, we gave them a standard 200 yuan as a gift, plus the '36 Legs' furniture set."
"This year, when the fourth son got married, we compensated each branch with 688 yuan. We also covered the costs and provided the necessary coupons for the 'Three Turns and One Sound.'"
"Old Master and the others were all present at the time. If you don’t believe me, you can ask any of them."
But under the piercing glares of Old Master and Father Huo, Dong Lihua didn’t dare say another word.
Seeing her silenced, Mother Huo continued, "Here are the receipts for the monthly milk subscriptions, and these are the household’s monthly food expenses."
"These are the receipts for the fabric and tailoring costs for the children’s clothes over the years."
"These are the school fees and textbook costs for each semester."
"And these are the nutritional supplements bought after her miscarriage."
"..."
Individually, the amounts might seem small, but over ten years, they added up to a considerable sum!
This reminded Mother Huo of something else.
Since the children’s elementary school had always operated on a "two-shift system," they only attended classes for half a day and had the other half off.
"Their parents were too busy to pick them up, so they assigned the task to Old Master’s orderly, Little Ding."
"Little Ding was originally only responsible for the family’s meals, but this extra duty significantly increased his workload."
"Jiang Si, note this down—deduct ten yuan every month. This expense should rightfully be covered by them."
Jiang Si cheerfully agreed, jotting it down while curiously asking,
"Mom, what’s the 'two-shift system'? I’ve never heard of it."
Mother Huo was surprised. "Didn’t Shanghai implement it?"
Jiang Si shook her head, wondering if it was because she had attended an all-girls school.
Back then, before the Cultural Revolution, her school had followed a Sino-Western hybrid curriculum, somewhat like a modern-day elite private school.
Seeing her curiosity, Mother Huo briefly explained,
"Back then, too many people from other provinces moved to Beijing, and the city didn’t have enough schools or teachers."
"So starting in 1953, most elementary and middle schools in Beijing adopted the 'two-shift system.'"
Jiang Si nodded in understanding.
But she sensed there was more to Mother Huo’s sudden mention of this.
Sure enough, the thought had barely crossed her mind when Mother Huo added,
"Having the kids idle at home for half the day wasn’t ideal. Their parents only cared about having children, not raising them, so eventually, we had to enroll them in the Beijing Children’s Palace."
The concept of the Children’s Palace had been imported from the Soviet Union, aimed at nurturing children’s hobbies and talents.
But these activities weren’t free—they cost far more than school fees and textbooks!
After all, the instructors were leading figures in their respective fields.
Jiang Si had heard a bit about this. The opening of the Beijing Children’s Palace had even been reported in the People’s Daily.
She’d heard it offered a wide range of interest groups:
Painting, embroidery, shooting, dance, choir, traditional orchestra, harmonica, accordion, metalworking, locksmithing, drama…
Had she not read the newspaper, Jiang Si wouldn’t have believed that China’s Children’s Palace had already introduced table football and table hockey in the 1950s.
[Note: This is based on historical records. Illustrations will be added when available.]
At this, Jiang Si tactfully asked, "Mom, these lessons must’ve cost a fortune, right?"
"You bet!"
Their eldest had attended for three and a half years, the second for two and a half, and the third for over a year.
Regardless of how much they’d actually learned, the tuition alone had exceeded a thousand yuan.
That didn’t even include expenses like stationery or musical instruments.
Mother Huo did the math and concluded, "It’s definitely over 1,300 yuan."
After hearing this exchange between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, Dong Lihua was stunned. How had the debt only grown larger?
Su Shanshan’s face darkened as well.
Unconsciously, her gaze toward the Huo family had turned resentful.
Yes, she hated them.
After all these years of calling them Mom and Dad, was this how they treated Tingtao just because he wasn’t their biological child?
Were they really going to take back everything they’d given?
No—she refused!
The money was already in her pocket, and she wouldn’t give it back no matter what.
Truth be told, she and her husband had secretly saved up quite a nest egg over the years.
Huo Tingtao was a university graduate. In his first year of work, his monthly salary was 46.95 yuan, plus a 3-yuan allowance.
After probation, it rose to 56 yuan.
By his fifth year, he’d been promoted to a section-level position with a monthly wage of 87.5 yuan.
Her own salary was modest but steady at 35.5 yuan per month.
Now that the gloves were off, Su Shanshan resorted to outright defiance.
"I don’t have the money."
Mother Huo had lived under the same roof with them for years—she knew exactly what they were like.
She laid it out plainly: "I’ve already reissued the passbooks under your names. Today, whether you’re willing or not, you will repay every cent!"
"What did you say?"
Su Shanshan trembled with rage. "How could you do this? That’s our hard-earned savings! Are you trying to rob us now?"
"And what right do you have to touch our things?"
"What right? The right that comes from you living off the Huo family all these years!"
"Every time money was needed, you two turtled up and hid behind us."
"If not for us, do you really think you could’ve saved so much on your meager salaries?"
Mother Huo hadn’t realized until reissuing the passbooks—they’d quietly amassed over 8,000 yuan.
With a cold snort, Mother Huo added,
"It takes most clerks six or seven years to reach section-level. He did it in under five."
"Do you really think he’d have climbed so fast without the Huo family name backing him?"
"Even his university education—we paid for every bit of it."
"Lihua, you know this better than anyone."
Caught in the spotlight, Dong Lihua hesitated, unable to deny it.
Because it was all true.
Tingtao had started school late and struggled to keep up, consistently ranking at the bottom of his class.
It was only after the Huo family hired private tutors—six years of relentless coaching—that he barely scraped into university.
Seeing Dong Lihua hemming and hawing without saying a word, Su Shanshan immediately panicked.
Now she couldn’t rely on her family for support, and her job at the military hospital was still up in the air.
If they returned the money, how would they survive in the future?
She quickly tugged at Huo Tingtao’s sleeve. "Tingtao, say something."
"If not for me, at least think about our three sons."
"If we give this money back, are we supposed to live on nothing but air?"
