There was no need to borrow anything; whenever she cried, Sister Yuanchun would proactively give her whatever she wanted.
Yet, Sister Yuanchun was actually writing a letter to tell Mother Kong not to send any more rice. That simply wouldn't do. People from the city were used to eating white rice all year round, but here in the Northeast, it was either cornmeal porridge, millet, or sorghum—nothing but coarse grains. Even when they had flour, it was dark and so coarse it felt like it could scrape the throat. It was awful.
Right now, she managed to have a few meals of white rice every month, all thanks to the rice Mother Kong sent. If Mother Kong stopped sending it, wouldn't that mean she would never have white rice again?
Chapter 875