"There's a hundred yuan in it. You put it away. I'll keep the remaining change with me for later use."

Song Zhiwei explained, stuffed the box into Fu Chenshi's arms, and went back to the kitchen to get busy. Making dumplings was not an easy job. To ensure that they could be eaten before dark, Song Zhiwei quickly kneaded the noodles and put them in the kitchen to rest.

"Xiaoya, can you help mom wash the vegetables?"

Fu Ya didn't say anything, but ran to the kitchen ...