Han Qingsong, “Do you remember everything?”

Erwang, “Yes.”

Han Qingsong, “Repeat it.”

Erwang repeated the key points.

Maisui and Dawang then did the same.

Although Dawang was rebellious, he listened to Lin Lan’s words. He didn’t care if he understood or not, all he had to do was memorise it. Otherwise, a punishment could have been awaiting him.

To be entirely honest, he was still afraid of being beaten by their Dark Lord father.

Sanwang was reminded 3 times more before he managed to clarify his words. After all, he only managed to recite his mother’s words upon listening to her repeat it for the 3rd time.

Xiaowang began to sing, “We can’t~ harm others, we can’t~ be unguarded…use time~ well, study~ hard… be a good person… we can’t~ lack money, but money~ isn’t all~”

“Wow! Xiaowang is great!” Everyone applauded.

Xiaowang was a little shy and his face was flushed, but his eyes were narrowed when he smiled.

Lin Lan kissed him, “Kid, you’re really amazing. Okay, go play for a bit more or read some books before going to bed.”

When the children were playing, Han Qingsong took out the sorghum stalks that were stored at home, which had been threshed and was left with only the seedlings. Using those, he intended to create a whisk broom.

During that era, there were several kinds of brooms that were used by farmers. The tall ones made of bamboo seedlings were called broomsticks, which were used to sweep the spacious yard; a smaller one made from sorghum was known as a whisk broom.

Han Qingsong got to work quickly and with Lin Lan’s help, he tied up two brooms in a short time.

Lin Lan tried it before she boasted, “Director Han is so versatile— even something as hard as making a broom is no obstacle for him.”

Some people truly didn’t know how to weave one properly, which usually resulted in them seeking help.

Han Qingsong was used to her little mouth being as sweet as honey, but every time she praised him, he wanted to kiss her.

He saw that his work was almost done, but decided to keep it altogether as he no longer felt like doing it anymore.

Lin Lan, “You don’t want to finish it up?”

Han Qingsong, “It’s getting late.”

Lin Lan, “…”

How is it late? It’s so early!

Whenever Han Qingsong implied that it was getting late, it was a signal for them to start some kind of action.

This meant: my wife, it’s time to claim you; let’s wash up and get on the kang.

Lin Lan whispered a few words to him, letting him know that for today, she had the right to refuse.

Han Qingsong looked at her, “Weren’t there still a few days left?” He remembered her menstrual cycle better than she did.

Lin Lan, “You know that it’s like a weather forecast— the timing is basically inaccurate. It will constantly be two days ahead or late. Being busy, tired, moody, cold or warm affects it a lot, so you shouldn’t care too much about the accuracy of the timings.”

Han Qingsong said, “You should go to an old Chinese doctor and be prescribed some medicine to recuperate.”

Lin Lan looked at him with a very understanding look, “You know about it?”

Han Qingsong, “It says in the commune doctor’s manual that we call it irregular menstruation.”

Lin Lan, “…” It was so strange to hear him say it so solemnly.

“I’ll have some jujube brown sugar drink, so just pay attention to yourself,” When it came to irregular menstruation, 8 out of 10 women would have it and it wasn’t something that was curable with medicine.

That’s just how it was.