Hosting an Open House Banquet

News of Lily Evans's family striking it rich sent all of Clearwater Village into a frenzy. The Evans home, once tucked away in the farthest, quietest corner of the village, now saw villagers "coincidentally" passing by their gate every day, and their attitudes toward Margaret and Lily grew much warmer.

According to village tradition, whenever a family comes into fortune, they're expected to host a banquet for everyone.

Lily had no intention of skipping the banquet. After all, she planned to stay here long-term, so building good relationships with the villagers was a must.

Word got out that Lily's family was throwing a feast, and Cynthia Wu showed up early to help. A few of the aunts who were close to Margaret also came to lend a hand in the kitchen.

With money to spare, Lily's family didn't hold back—they went all out for the spread. Cynthia Wu had barely stepped into the Evans' courtyard when she was dazzled by several basins brimming with chicken, duck, and fish.

"So much meat! This feast is even grander than New Year's!" Cynthia Wu rolled up her sleeves and sat down to help, laughing with Lily.

Margaret beamed, unable to hide her joy. "Our family has always been poor and never hosted a proper banquet before. Now that we finally can, I want everyone to have something good to eat."

Lily gently pulled her mother up. "Mom, didn't you say you twisted your waist last night? Go inside and rest, we've got things covered here."

Margaret smiled as she wiped her hands. "I'm used to hard work. No need to be so delicate."

Seeing her mother insist on helping, Lily could only ask Margaret to sit in the courtyard and watch over the washed chicken, duck, and fish, just to keep the mice away from the ingredients.

Mrs. Thompson stood at the fence gate, her eyes wide as she spotted the basins piled with meat. "Well, Lily's mom, how did your family manage to buy so much meat?!"

Margaret shot Mrs. Thompson a look. "We're having a banquet at noon. All these are ingredients we bought ourselves."

Mrs. Thompson eyed the piles of meat as she walked in, her tone sour. "Look at your family, making such a spectacle. Afraid people won't know you've struck it rich? What's with all this showing off!"

Margaret gave Mrs. Thompson a glare—she had no patience for the village's infamous shrew.

Mrs. Thompson plopped herself down next to the meat basins, her eyes glued to the food. "Margaret, chicken, duck, and fish like this—most folks can't even eat it at New Year's. Aren't you worried about blowing all that money?"

Margaret replied, "My daughter and son-in-law earned this money. If they say buy something, I just enjoy the blessings."

Mrs. Thompson couldn't help but stare at Margaret's rosy face and the fine city-bought clothes she wore—the fabric and workmanship worlds apart from the village women. Then she saw the jewelry Margaret wore, things Mrs. Thompson had never owned in her life.

The more Mrs. Thompson thought about it, the more bitter she felt. Why should Margaret get to live so well, with enough money to buy meat for a banquet whenever she pleases?

Mrs. Thompson leaned in close to Margaret, her voice low and malicious. "So, Lily's mom, are you really saying your money came from jade gambling? We're all simple villagers here—who are you trying to fool? I heard all about it, you know. That day in the city, Lily and Lucky went to Savory House! I bet your money didn't come from selling stones, but from your precious daughter pleasing the owner of Savory House for a hefty reward!"

Margaret's face turned red with fury at Mrs. Thompson's slander. "What nonsense are you spouting! Get out, get out! Stop trying to smear my daughter! Our money came from Lucky's jade gambling, and that's the truth!"

Mrs. Thompson raised her voice, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, what's with all the shouting? Feeling guilty, are you? I was just making conversation, but look how scared you are! Maybe..."

Seeing even more villagers gathering at the Evans' door, Mrs. Thompson deliberately raised her voice. "Who really knows where your money came from! Maybe your son-in-law sold stones, maybe your daughter sold herself—who can say for sure!" Her words sent a ripple of whispers through the crowd, the drama thick in the air.