Chapter 171: Facing a Routine, You Have to Switch to Another Routine

"First-aunt, what you just said is completely wrong. If anyone is being lazy, I'd say it's your household."

"You show zero concern for Grandmother in daily life, only putting on a hypocritical show during the New Year and festivals. And even that performance merely consists of arriving a bit earlier than everyone else—what substantive contribution have you ever made?"

Chen Huajiang said with disdain. He was certainly not going to let her walk all over him this time.

In his past life, because of his junior status, Chen Huajiang had no qualification to talk back and could only swallow his anger in silence. Though outwardly his seniority was still low in this life, mentally he no longer held her in any regard.

"You—"

Cui Yulan never expected Chen Huajiang to talk back to her. She pointed a trembling finger at him, her face turning crimson with rage.

"You motherless, unbred brat! I am your aunt, and yet you dare speak to me like this!"

She pointed at him, grinding her teeth in fury, and stepped forward, raising her hand as if to slap him across the face.

Chen Huajiang reached out and intercepted her right wrist mid-air, saying coldly, "First-aunt, don't make a scene here. With so many people watching, surely you wouldn't want to become the very thing you love to gossip about—a crude village shrew yelling in the streets?"

By this time, the surrounding onlookers had snapped back to their senses and quickly stepped forward to separate the two, smoothing things over.

"There's no need for this. We are all family, how can you fight amongst yourselves?"

"Everyone calm down and say a little less. Take a step back."

"Indeed, let's make big problems small and small problems nothing."

People spoke up one after another, pulling the two apart.

Cui Yulan's chest heaved with rage, her eyes burning with fury.

Wang Xinhong had been furious from the start, but constrained by Cui Yulan's sharp tongue and a long-standing sense of inferiority, she hadn't dared to react immediately.

Now, seeing that Cui Yulan still wanted to hit her son, she could no longer hold back.

"Cui Yulan, how I discipline my son is none of your business. You'd better focus on managing your own son instead. Was there anything wrong with what Huajiang said? Three hundred and sixty-five days a year, can you even manage to spend five days over at the old lady's place?"

"Don't you just show up during the New Year to fake some 'filial piety'? Do you really think no one sees right through you? Cleaning up? What a joke! Which month do Redmei and I fail to come help the old lady clean, wash her clothes, dry her quilts, and bring her food?"

"If everyone were like you, putting on an act only during holidays, I'd be terrified of people pointing fingers at my spine."

Wang Xinhong walked up to Cui Yulan and let loose a rapid-fire volley of accusations.

Her relationship with Cui Yulan had long been poor; she simply hadn't dared to offend her until now.

In her heart, she and Redmei—the third uncle's wife—were both the kinds of village women the other looked down upon: uneducated and tied to the soil.

Cui Yulan, on the other hand, was capable, educated, knew a bit of traditional Chinese medicine, and even worked at the veterinary station, placing her a cut above them.

Yet now that the woman was trying to strike her son, she naturally couldn't stay silent.

"Fine, fine, fine! You uneducated country bumpkin! You motherless, unbred wretch!"

"Everyone take a look, everyone come look at this! This little beast from the second branch actually tried to hit me, to hit his own first-aunt!"

"Is there any justice left in this world? Is there any law of heaven? I won't live anymore! I just won't live anymore!"

Cui Yulan pointed first at Wang Xinhong and then at Chen Huajiang, venting a string of grievances before collapsing flat onto the ground, slapping the earth with both hands.

"Yulan, don't blow things out of proportion. It's the New Year, what are you doing making such a scene?"

"Exactly, if word gets out, our family's reputation will be ruined."

"How do you expect Jingen's family to face people after this? Get up already."

The onlookers quickly tried to persuade her. Stirring up such a fuss during the New Year made everyone look bad.

However, those words only made Cui Yulan carry on even more wildly. Not only did she slap the ground with both hands, but she also kicked her legs in the dirt, howling at the top of her lungs with a voice that grew shriller and louder.

Her logic was simple and direct: she wanted to blow the matter wide open so that Chen Huajiang would have no way to show his face in public.

Unfortunately, while this trick might have worked on the Chen Huajiang of her past life, things were different now.

"Mom, don't worry. Don't you go sitting on the ground and slapping the earth like her; your hands will hurt and your voice will go hoarse. You might not mind, but as your son, I care."

Seeing things take a turn for the worse, his mother Wang Xinhong had looked ready to drop to the ground as well, clearly intent on matching Cui Yulan performance for performance—a common sight in rural areas both then and later.

Reason often held no sway here; whoever could make the biggest scene and scream the loudest would win.

With quick eyes and nimble hands, Chen Huajiang grabbed his mother and held her back, murmuring a few words to her.

Then, amidst the puzzled gazes of the crowd, he turned and briskly walked into his grandmother's house, emerging a moment later carrying an armload of small wooden stools and folding benches.

"Everyone, take a seat. Jiayin, what are you standing there for? Bring out the melon seeds and peanuts, and fetch those orange sodas we brought, too."

"Come, come, everyone enjoy some peanuts and melon seeds while watching First-aunt put on a show."

"In the old days, wandering opera troupes used to visit the village, and as people always say, whether an opera is good isn't up to the actors—it's up to the audience to decide. Once First-aunt finishes her performance, everyone can give her a score."

Chen Huajiang glanced disdainfully at Cui Yulan, who was still glaring at him while keeping up her act, and busied himself alongside his wife Lin Jiayin, handing out melon seeds, peanuts, and orange sodas to the gathering crowd.

Once he finished, he pulled up a small wooden stool and sat down himself.

The onlookers were completely bewildered, never imagining that Chen Huajiang would actually do such a thing, let alone dare to.

Even Cui Yulan's howling faltered for a second before she hurriedly resumed her wailing.

"I can't go on living! A nephew wants to hit his aunt! How am I supposed to face people?"

"Come look, everyone! See how the second branch bullies their sister-in-law!"

Cui Yulan wailed louder and louder as she continued her routine.

Gradually, however, she began to feel that something wasn't quite right.

"That felt a bit fake. All thunder and no rain."

"First-aunt changed the way she was hitting the ground. Earlier it was a solid slap, but now she's raising her hands high and landing them softly. That has to be a point deduction."

Cracking open a melon seed, Chen Huajiang offered a critique of his first-aunt's acting skills.

At first, everyone had been stunned and felt too awkward to join in.

But as Chen Huajiang set the rhythm, the onlookers inexplicably found the situation thoroughly entertaining, much like watching a performance at a temple fair.

And it was even more amusing than traditional singing. After all, when it came to Beijing opera, Huangmei opera, or Henan opera, very few villagers could truly understand and enjoy them beyond just watching the commotion.

"Her lines don't make sense. Clearly she was the one trying to hit her nephew, so how did it turn into the nephew hitting her? That's turning black into white."

"Her crying lacks spirit, too. She started off with plenty of vigor, but now her voice is getting weaker and weaker."

"Say, this drink is pretty good. Do city people always drink this? I think I'll save mine and take it back for my grandson to try."

As the crowd gradually loosened up, things grew increasingly interesting. People began pointing at Cui Yulan and offering reviews of her acting performance.

It bore a striking resemblance to the panel judges scoring actors in modern talent shows. That sense of active participation and control over scoring was far more engaging than simply sitting passively under a stage at a temple fair.

Cui Yulan finally snapped out of it in utter confusion. She stopped crying, stopped shouting, and stopped slapping the earth.

She blankly swept her gaze across the surrounding crowd. For the first time, her long-held worldview suffered such a direct blow that she had no idea what to do next.