In the west wing of the Ji Family home, Mrs. Zhu poked her head out to look around the courtyard. Seeing no one, she closed the door and asked Ji Mingmao.
"Well? Did you find anything good at that wretched girl's place?"
"Yeah, that wretched girl has tons of good stuff!" Ji Mingmao was so focused on eating the egg Mrs. Zhu had secretly boiled for him that his voice was muffled.
Mrs. Zhu asked anxiously, "What kind of stuff? Hurry and tell Mom."
Ji Mingmao began counting on his fingers, listing them off for her one by one.
When Mrs. Zhu heard about the white flour, the rice, and the lard, she couldn't sit still.
"Besides all that, was there nothing else?"
At his age, Ji Mingmao only cared about food and fun; he hadn't really paid attention to anything else.
He thought for a moment, then asked, "Does a new quilt count?"
