Mrs. Zhao slapped her forehead again, then pulled a small pouch from her sleeve. The needlework on it was familiar. Without even looking closely, she knew it must be Wanqing's handiwork.
There was a sharp bulge within the pouch, making it look like it was filled with small stones. But there would be no reason to put stones in a pouch; it had to be silver.
Sure enough, when Mrs. Zhao untied the pouch, she revealed five taels of broken silver inside.
"Qing'er gave this to me, for household expenses."
But what did the family really need her to buy?
Whether it was clothes and fabric, needles and thread, or soy sauce, vinegar, rice, and grain, her son had already provided for everything.
It was called money for household expenses, but it was really more like an allowance. Or perhaps it was payment for the help she and Xiang'er provided in making incense.
But no matter how you looked at it, it was far too much.
How much work did she and Xiang'er really do in a day?
