The thin clouds are like gauze, and half of the bright moon appears in it, the stars are twinkling, and the lights are bright and dark, but they are not as bright as the streets and alleys, and the lights of the tall buildings are brightly lit.

The prosperous capital city has long disappeared from war, and there is no need for a group of young people to sprinkle blood on the mountains and rivers. All that is left is traffic.

The night in the capital has never been truly lonely. Shopping malls are filled with consumer groups, restaurants are lively and refreshing, and cafes are still the sounds brought by talking about business and knocking on notebooks.

The low building where Ye Qinghuan's family is located is one of the rare six-story buildings nearby. Every inch of land in the capital is valuable, and the towers outside the Sixth Ring Road must be built up to twenty floors. This kind of six-story building is still a product of the late 1980s.

Looking along the roadside, there were lights in the building, and half of the families were black. Some moved to provinces and cities outside the capital to spend their old age; some returned late and had not returned, and now it was less than seven o'clock, so they were naturally busy with work; some simply settled for supper in restaurants outside.

Ye Qinghuan's parents are a serious working class, living in a small house of thirty or forty square meters, cooking and cleaning by themselves.

Someone once joked that if you sell a house in Beijing and say less than a few million yuan, wouldn’t it be a rich man?

At that time, Qinghuan's mother Zhang Ying just smiled, "Everyone said that we people in Beijing have money, so where can we live after selling our house?"

"Don't you buy a few houses here in Beijing?" the man continued.

"The capital is our hometown. For the so-called wealth, we have to leave our hometown."

I have to say that what Zhang Ying said makes sense. Every city’s people cannot make a good fortune when they come to the capital and still have their own hometown. If the people in the capital cannot gain a foothold in the capital, they will really have no choice but to retreat.

The clock on the wall turned to seven o'clock, and Zhang Ying and her husband Ye Dongfang ignored each other. When they were in front of the child, they pretended nothing was wrong, and they were thorny inside and outside. When the child went back to the house to do his homework, the two of them disliked each other.

Zhang Ying turned around and entered the kitchen. The spoon and millet porridge were filled with fragrant smells getting stronger and drifted down the kitchen into the living room.

Ye Dongfang was on the TV, his eyes were glancing at the news broadcast, and he was also listening to books with headphones on his ears. He sniffed when he smelled the smell of porridge, moved his butt halfway and sat back.

"Ye Dongfang, please be quiet! The child is doing homework. You turn off the news broadcast by listening to the headphones!" Zhang Ying sprinkled more than ten white chrysanthemums into the millet porridge, and entered the porridge. She didn't even look at the hall, so she knew what Ye Dongfang looked like now.

Ye Dongfang wanted to open his mouth, and Zhang Ying's voice came from the kitchen, "Ye Dongfang, don't tell me anything, I'm loud. If you know the importance of it, I don't need to remind you to turn off the TV!"

That's right, Ye Dongfang's words choked in his mouth. He was neither open nor closed, so he simply turned off the TV, turned around and ran to the balcony to smoke.

The smell of smoke drifted faster than the aroma of porridge. It soon swelled into the kitchen, covered the smell of porridge, and penetrated into Zhang Ying's sensitive nasal cavity.

Carrying the pot and spoon and turning the fire down, Zhang Ying rushed over to the balcony, "I said I didn't say that the child should not smoke at home?"

"You are not afraid of lung disease, so let us mother and mother smoke second-hand smoke, right?"

Ye Dongfang sucked twice with a smile, pressed the cigarette into the ashtray, and with a "sniff", the cigarette was gone.

Looking at the ashtray, long and short cigarette butts were rippling out. Obviously, this is already Ye Dongfang's normal situation.

"Go back quickly. The porridge will be muddy at that time. Do I need to make it for you?"

He glanced at Ye Dongfang, "No, I'll give it to the child. If you don't have any, go drink the northwest wind!" Zhang Ying went back to the kitchen and sprinkled three or two wolfberry into the porridge. The red wolfberry flew up and down in the half-boiled porridge, which was quite beautiful.

Ye Dongfang was not angry after hearing Zhang Ying's words. He happily set up the table and put down the chopsticks, "Daughter, stop learning, come out for dinner!"

At the dining table, Ye Dongfang pointed at the porridge in the bowl and praised, "Look, this is a medicinal food!"

"Your mother said that chrysanthemums in spring can cause liver fire. Although you have a cold... I can't tell which one your mother is doing. Anyway, I'm considered your father's blessing. Your mother made this for you specifically!"
Chapter completed!