Hua Xiaomai had already calmed down, but seeing such a thing only warmed her heart further. She smiled and sat down next to Old Mother Meng, speaking gently, "Are you still angry with me? Isn't my apology enough? That day I may have spoken too harshly— but you should at least tell me why you took the soup bowl and left!"
Old Mother Meng glanced at her sideways, her lips twitched, and when she spoke, her tone was cold and harsh, "Has your apprentice graduated?"
Hua Xiaomai, puzzled, shook her head, "No, but..."
"There's no 'but'! No matter how highly you praise her, until she graduates, I can't trust her cooking. What if something is undercooked and you get a stomachache? Would that be her responsibility? Can she afford to compensate?"
Old Mother Meng complained bitterly, "The same old thing, if you want to die, just don't drag my little grandchild down!"
