"Dinner's ready." As soon as Gong Dajiang finished speaking, Gong Tao began to call for dinner.
Zhang Lan peeked at the dishes, "We're eating just this?"
"There's not much food left, and with farm work looming, we need to save some for when we have to do hard labor," Gong Tao said bluntly.
"We don't just have nothing, we're also in significant debt, so we have to save wherever we can," Gong Tao continued, then bluntly asked, "Dad, we've sent so many telegrams, why hasn't the money been sent over yet?"
"I saw the postman deliver a letter today," Gong Tao added tactfully, not directly saying it was a letter from Gong Zheng.
Naturally, he didn't want the old lady to tie this matter back to Gong Ruini.
But honestly, Gong Tao was overthinking it. In Zhang Lan's eyes, she didn't believe Gong Ruini could read, much less understand a letter their youngest son had written her.
Zhang Lan was secretly angry that even the postman would discuss these matters with her son; it was too much.
