Reborn as an 80s-aged woman, her unfilial son begs for forgiveness on his knees.

After hearing this, Old Zhang was very envious.

Five children?

Having many children isn't always a blessing, but it's much better than being a lonely old man like him.

He sighed, his gaze drifting into the distance: "In my life, I've had a son, but I don't even know where he is now."

I don't even know if my wife is still around. I'm all alone, waiting for them to come back.

Tell me, what is the point of life?

Hearing this, Zhang Wenying felt a pang of sadness. She said softly, "Mr. Zhang, don't be too sad."

Children and grandchildren have their own blessings; your good health is the greatest blessing.

"Maybe one day they'll find it." Old Zhang waved his hand.

"Alright, let's not talk about that anymore." He composed himself and smiled again. "Come, try the tea I brewed. This is my treasured Longjing tea; I wouldn't normally give it to just anyone."

At this moment, Zhang Yurou, dressed in a proper outfit, came down from upstairs.

She glanced at Zhang Wenying, who was talking to Old Zhang, and a hint of jealousy flashed in her eyes.

Although my father is easygoing, he is actually quite picky at heart. There are very few people who would make him stay for tea.

Moreover, although this woman was dressed simply, she exuded a calm and composed demeanor that made Zhang Yurou feel somewhat uncomfortable.

She felt inexplicably averse to Zhang Wenying, but couldn't quite put her finger on why.

But the contempt in her eyes was fleeting.

Zhang Wenying didn't dress up much, still wearing an old-fashioned blue cloth shirt and black pants, with a pair of cloth shoes with thick soles on her feet, and her hair was casually tied back. She looked like an ordinary person from the lower class.

Shen Mingyuan glanced at Zhang Yurou briefly before saying, "Comrade Zhang Yurou, this is Comrade Zhang Wenying, a friend of mine."

Wenying, this is Zhang Yurou, the daughter of Zhang's old comrade-in-arms.

Shen Mingyuan introduced them to each other.

He did not say that Zhang Yurou was the old general's nominal adopted daughter.

Zhang Yurou nodded slightly, a polite but distant smile on her face: "Hello, Comrade Zhang."

His tone was flat, revealing no emotion.

Zhang Wenying also glanced at the woman in front of her.

In her forties, she was well-maintained, dressed in a fashionable suit, and exuded a sense of superiority in every gesture.

She smiled slightly and nodded in response, "Hello, Comrade Zhang." Her voice was gentle, neither humble nor arrogant.

Seeing her so composed, Zhang Yurou felt even more uncomfortable, but she didn't show it on her face.

"So it's Comrade Zhang."

I heard from Mingyuan that you're a great cook, so today we're going to have a good taste of your cooking.

"The kitchen is this way, come with me."

That woman is really something.

They don't even change into slippers when they come in, and the sofa covers are brand new; they'll be hard to wash if they get dirty.

Zhang Wenying frowned slightly.

Although the woman had a smile on her face, her words carried a condescending tone, as if she were a cook who had been summoned to taste the dishes.

But she was also aware that there was a significant difference in their social status.

It's normal for people who live here to look down on her.

But she still felt somewhat uncomfortable.

Shen Mingyuan was also a little displeased.

Zhang Wenying was someone he had invited, and the old general hadn't said anything, but this Zhang Yurou clearly harbored hostility towards Zhang Wenying.

Why would she be hostile towards Zhang Wenying?

If Zhang Wenying is indeed Old Zhang's daughter, then she is an imposter who has usurped the position.

This villa, including everything that belongs to Old Zhang, should belong to Zhang Wenying. What right does she have to look down on Zhang Wenying?

The Zhang family's kitchen is quite large, with two layers of cabinets.

The stove was polished to a shine, and the pots and pans were arranged neatly.

Zhang Yurou stood at the door, arms crossed, her tone carrying a hint of casual criticism: "Comrade Zhang, let me see your hand first."

Away from the living room, Zhang Yurou removed her polite facade, her tone carrying a scrutinizing undertone.

Zhang Wenying was not angry; she simply stretched out her hands calmly and looked at Zhang Yurou with a puzzled expression.

She runs a food business, so she pays a lot of attention to hand hygiene.

Her hands were clean, with distinct knuckles and neatly trimmed nails, but her palms bore thin calluses from years of hard work.

Although her palms were a bit rough, her hands were quite white, and there wasn't a single stain between her fingers.

Zhang Yurou's gaze lingered on the thin callus on her palm for a moment, and a faint smile appeared on her lips: "Your hands are clean, though."

"Of course, the most important thing in food preparation is cleanliness."

Zhang Wenying withdrew her hand with composure, her tone calm. "Comrade Zhang, is there anything else you need? If not, I'll begin preparing dinner."

"No rush."

Zhang Yurou slowly walked to the stove, her fingertips lightly tracing the surface, then looked down at it. "The ingredients for today are all prepared. Just cook whatever you're good at."

However, I'm a picky eater. I don't eat things that are too oily, things that are too bland are tasteless, spicy food hurts my stomach, and sweet food is cloying.

As she spoke, she looked up at Zhang Wenying, a hint of amusement in her smile, "Comrade Zhang, can you cook a dish that suits my taste?"

Also, please wash your hands more thoroughly before cooking.

Zhang Wenying frowned.

She took a deep breath, suppressed her displeasure, turned around, turned on the tap, and washed her hands carefully again, even rubbing her fingernails with her fingertips.

"It still won't work, you need to wash it a couple more times."

My family has many rules, so please bear with them.

Zhang Yurou leaned against the door frame, her tone carrying a hint of nonchalant provocation.

Zhang Wenying looked at her clean hands and asked, "Do you wash your hands several times when you cook?"

Zhang Yurou chuckled softly, but didn't reply. She simply raised her chin, signaling for her to continue.

"I'm sorry, Comrade Zhang, my family usually has a housekeeper who cooks for us, so I rarely cook."

Her sense of superiority as a superior person was blatantly displayed in front of Zhang Wenying, as if she was born to stand on high and look down on others.

Zhang Wenying didn't wash her hands again, but turned to look at Zhang Yurou, her tone calm but with an unquestionable tone: "Since you don't wash your hands twice, why do you ask me to?"

"I'm here to cook for Old Zhang, not to be your servant. If you think my hands aren't clean, you can always find someone else." As she spoke, she took off her apron and folded it neatly, placing it on the stove.

"Comrade Zhang, are you trying to shirk your responsibilities?"

Zhang Yurou's smile faded slightly, but her eyes sharpened. "My dad specifically asked you to cook; that's giving you a big thumbs up."

"My family paid me, so you have to do what I ask. That's only fair."

"It's only natural?" Zhang Wenying calmly straightened her collar and met Zhang Yurou's gaze with a composed look.

"I took on Zhang Lao's job, not yours."

You want me to wash my hands a couple more times? Fine, but you have to tell me first whether you can actually do it yourself.

If you can't do it, what right do you have to ask me to?