I’m eighty years old this year. My husband passed away early, but my pension is substantial, and my health is excellent. Life has never been happier. Until one day, my granddaughter called me to help her catch a cheater. I grabbed my cane and ran out the door. Dammit, I always knew that boy had shifty eyes and wasn't a good person. 01 When I arrived at the hotel, I saw my granddaughter arguing with the front desk. "I'm Jason's wife. I already showed you our marriage certificate. Why can't you tell me the room number?" "This involves customer privacy." "What privacy? I came with Jason today, we just forgot the key card." "There is no check-in information under your name." The receptionist even added: "A wife should be more understanding of her husband. Being suspicious only harms your marriage." My granddaughter's face turned red with anger. I slammed my cane onto the front desk and lay down directly on the floor. Wriggling my body left and right like a caterpillar, I slowly crawled on the ground, moving from the front desk all the way to the main entrance, shouting as I moved: "This is a black-hearted hotel." "They won't reissue a room card." "Bullying an eighty-year-old woman." "Everyone, don't stay here." Halfway through shouting, I choked on my own saliva. I coughed while still remembering to wriggle. Several customers who had just entered the hotel were scared away by my antics. The manager rushed over, and the receptionist explained the situation to him. The manager squatted down and said to me: "Grandma, we really can't tell you the room number. If your granddaughter can't control her man, you can't make trouble for our hotel." What kind of nonsense is that? I don't want to hear a word of it. Twenty-year-old me might have been helpless, but eighty-year-old me has plenty of tricks. I accelerated my wriggling towards a nearby customer, scaring him into screaming and running away. The manager's face darkened: "Grandma, if you keep this up, I'm calling the police." I nimbly changed direction and headed towards another person who had just entered the hotel. I deliberately used my feet to push, arching my back, crawling in an even more bizarre posture. "Call the police then. I'm almost a hundred years old. If the police let me out, I'll just come back and lie down in your hotel." "Let's see if I die first or your hotel closes down first." While the manager hesitated, I scared away two more customers. The manager, helpless, had to tell me the room number. My granddaughter hurriedly helped me up. After getting up, I felt a wave of dizziness and leaned on my cane to rest for a while. Sure enough, getting old means getting tired after crawling on the ground for a bit. As soon as my granddaughter and I arrived at the room, we heard laughter coming from inside, with a coquettish female voice being particularly prominent. My granddaughter's eyes instantly turned red. Heart aching for her, I knocked on the door and shouted: "Housekeeping." Jason grumbled as he came to open the door. My granddaughter slapped him right in the face. "Emily, why are you here?" My granddaughter pounced on him and started hitting him. I observed for a while, seeing she had the upper hand, and walked into the room. I saw a woman in her early twenties wrapped in a quilt, leaning against the headboard, looking at me in terror. "Girl, why are you being a mistress at such a young age? Are you Jason's colleague?" The girl shook her head hurriedly and explained, "I just met him today. I provide door-to-door massage services." Hearing this, my contempt for Jason deepened. Another man who can't control his lower body. At this time, the dispute at the door became more intense. Slap! Seeing the crowd of onlookers growing, Jason slapped my granddaughter in exasperation. My granddaughter didn't react, frozen in place, big tears falling straight down. Furious, I rushed forward and hit Jason on the head with my cane. Caught off guard, Jason knelt on the ground clutching his head. I hit his limbs and back indiscriminately, and he couldn't straighten up from the pain. "Rebelling, are you? Cheating and daring to hit your wife." "Let's see you hit your wife again." Someone called the police. Four officers arrived and pulled us apart. The police looked at me sternly, and I was a bit scared. Seeing Jason lying on the ground crying about pain, I was even more afraid of being at a disadvantage. So I also lay on the ground with a constipated look on my face. No matter what the police asked, I just said I hurt all over. Helpless, the police had to take us all back to the station first and call our families to pick us up. My son, Mike, rushed over and asked nervously: "Mom, are you okay?" I put on an expression of excruciating pain, then whispered: "I'm fine. That son of a bitch Jason hired a prostitute. Get them divorced immediately." Using the excuse of taking me to the hospital for a checkup, Mike took me home to rest first. On the way, Mike promised me repeatedly that he would handle this matter well. Who knew that half a month later, during the Dragon Boat Festival, I was preparing a big table of food, waiting for the family to come home for a reunion. My granddaughter called me from outside. As soon as I opened the door, I saw Jason hugging my granddaughter, standing at the door with a smile. 02 Bang. I thought I was dizzy from cooking and hallucinating, so I subconsciously closed the door. The wind slammed the door against the wall with a heavy thud. A few seconds later, I opened the door again. Outside still stood my granddaughter and her whoring husband, only now their expressions were a bit stiff. I sighed and let them in. Looking at this situation, they had reconciled. I returned to the kitchen, chopping vegetables on the cutting board with a clang clang, getting more annoyed the more I worked. Before I retired, I was a chef. My cooking is delicious, and I enjoy it, so I'm always the head chef during holidays. But thinking that part of the food I worked so hard to make today would end up in Jason's stomach made me angry. I'm eighty years old; I do what I want. So I quit. I went to the living room. My son and daughter-in-law had arrived, and they were chatting happily with my granddaughter and grandson-in-law, as if the hotel farce that day was just my personal hallucination. "I hurt my arm swinging my cane a while ago. It hurts especially today, can't cook anymore." "Jason, you go do it." Jason stood up, face full of hesitation. My son wanted to speak for him but was silenced by my glare. Seeing no one helping him, Jason hesitated for a while but still went into the kitchen. On the sofa, seeing my displeasure, my granddaughter leaned on me, red-eyed, and said: "Grandma, I'm pregnant. The doctor said if I abort this time, I might not be able to conceive again." "Grandma, I'm sorry for making you worry." Looking at my granddaughter on the verge of tears, my anger vanished instantly, leaving only heartache. "So you're not pursuing the matter with Jason?" "Mom, I talked to Jason's family. That was a moment of confusion for him. He promised it won't happen again," my son explained. "Yes, he even wrote a guarantee letter by hand." My granddaughter took a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to me. I didn't even bother to look. Even emperors' edicts can be revoked; what credibility does a guarantee letter from a whoremonger have? I held my granddaughter's hand tightly and said, "Your pregnancy is a good thing. As long as you're happy, Grandma is happy." My granddaughter's eyes reddened again, ready to cry. At this time, Jason shouted from the kitchen that the food was ready. Looking at the plates of black, unrecognizable food on the table, I barely picked at some to eat. Ugh. Disgusting. "Jason, Emily is pregnant now. With your cooking skills, what will you do for meals?" I asked. "Grandma, we're thinking about that too," Jason replied. "I hired a cook last week, but her cooking was too heavy-handed; we weren't used to it." "Then find another one. Anything is better than takeout." "Grandma, we were thinking," Jason stammered, "could you come to our house to help cook? Your cooking is delicious, and you know Emily's taste." I was shocked. I've seen people leeching off their parents, but never seen leeching off grandparents. My granddaughter hurriedly added, "Grandma, I'm on leave to rest for the baby recently. It's boring being home alone, and I hope you can come keep me company." I took a big gulp of water and asked, "How much did you pay the previous cook a month?" "$400 a month, responsible for lunch and dinner." "Fine. I'll also be responsible for your breakfast. I'll give you a discount, $550 a month." "That price can hire a very good cook on the market," Jason questioned. "Then spend the money to hire one," I rolled my eyes. "I'm an old bag of bones. I should be enjoying my retirement, yet I have to help you young people." "You didn't originally think of not paying a cent, did you?" "Grandma, no problem, I'll transfer the money to you," my granddaughter replied. "You're pregnant and on leave, where would you get money?" I said to Jason, "You transfer it to me. Pregnancy is 10 months in total, transfer $5,500 to me now." Jason's face turned green, but with our whole family staring at him intently, he succumbed to the pressure and transferred the money. Counting the amount received in my bank account, I said, "This money is just for cooking fees. I'll ask you for grocery money every week." 03 After staying at my granddaughter's house for three months, exercising in the park every morning and square dancing at night, I knew the surroundings like the back of my hand and made a group of friends. One day, while preparing lunch as usual, I found that a commonly used seasoning had run out. Recently, my granddaughter became obsessed with Thai flavors, especially loving the refreshing yet slightly sour taste. Jason's mother was overjoyed to hear this, constantly talking about "sour for boys, spicy for girls," convinced that my granddaughter was carrying a son. Therefore, she specially sent a bottle of seasoning sauce, saying a friend brought it from Thailand. My granddaughter loved it and put this sauce in almost every dish, so it was consumed very quickly. I visited all the nearby stores in the past two days but couldn't find the same sauce. Just as I was worrying, my new friend, Mrs. Fang, said her family also ate it often, and it was sold in an import supermarket 6 miles away from our community. After getting the news, I rushed to the supermarket by bus. Just as I was about to pay after buying the sauce, I saw Jason's mother in front of the next aisle. I was about to greet her when I heard a young female voice talking to her: "Mom, we're running out of Thai seasoning sauce at home, let's buy some." I remembered Jason is an only child; does he have sisters? Seeing them about to walk towards me, I subconsciously hid in a blind spot. At this time, I saw the girl's face. I was struck by lightning, frozen in place. She was actually the masseuse from the hotel that night! She definitely couldn't be Jason's sister! What on earth is going on? Why did she call her "Mom" just now? It wasn't until they paid and left that I reacted. No matter what, I have to follow them and see. I hurriedly finished paying; luckily, they hadn't gone far. I ran a few steps first, then followed them from a distance, watching them affectionately holding hands and shopping. My heart beat like a drum as a terrible guess formed in my mind. Until they walked into a nearby community together. The community required access cards, so I couldn't enter. But I remembered this community; Jason had mentioned his parents lived here. Is the masseuse living with Jason's parents as their daughter-in-law now? I felt the world spinning. My legs had been walking intensely just now to keep up with them. Now that I finally stopped, I had to lean against a roadside tree to support my body and keep from collapsing. I thought of my granddaughter's four-month pregnant body, her slightly protruding belly; I thought of a few months ago, my granddaughter telling me with red eyes that Jason promised to be loyal to the family in the future; I thought of a year ago, my granddaughter's happy smile at the wedding. On the wedding day, thousands of flowers adorned the venue. I held Emily's arm through the crowd, accompanying her up the stairs, her trailing white wedding dress shining with fine light. I watched her and Jason exchange rings and complete the ceremony. The ceremony concluded, countless ribbons burst forth. Under the ribbons were two happy faces. At that time, I thought they could be happy forever. For the first time, I hated my old age. I should have grabbed Jason's mother and the masseuse by the collar, beaten them up, and made them give Emily an explanation. But I could barely keep up with them. A passerby handed me a tissue and asked softly, "Grandma, are you okay? Do you need help?" Turns out, unknowingly, my face was full of tears. I thanked the passerby and forced myself to return home. No matter what, I have to pull myself together. I have to let my granddaughter know about this. 04 When I returned home, it was already dark, and Jason had come home from work. Seeing me back, he sat on the sofa and pointedly said: "Grandma, you still need to cook earlier in the future. I've been hungry for an hour, and you just got home." "Irregular meals are bad for Emily too." Watching his hypocritical face, I almost threw up. I held back the urge to scold him and walked into the kitchen. Jason stopped me and handed me three bottles of Thai seasoning sauce. "I found we were running out at home. Since Emily likes it so much, I asked Mom to get a friend to buy a few more bottles from Thailand." What Thailand, what friend. He asked his mistress to buy it at the supermarket at the community entrance, right? Disgusting. As soon as Jason left, I threw these sauces into the trash. At the dinner table, my granddaughter suddenly said: "Why does the curry chicken taste a bit different?" I tasted it; there was indeed a difference. Before, it was a sourness that stimulated the top of the head, now the flavor was much milder. "Grandma, did you not put the seasoning sauce today?" Jason asked. I frowned, suddenly feeling strange. Why does Jason care so much about the seasoning sauce? He never enters the kitchen at home usually; why could he discover the sauce ran out in time? These subtle doubts made me feel faintly uneasy. Usually, I would think this is Jason's concern for my granddaughter. But since I've discovered his cheating, this excessive concern is extraordinarily unusual. "A friend gave me a bottle of Thai seasoning sauce today, didn't use the one you gave. So the taste is a bit different," I said half-truthfully. "Grandma, mine is the most authentic from Thailand, very expensive. Bought specially for Emily," Jason said seriously. "The one given by others might have problems. Don't give it to Emily anymore; she doesn't like it either." Bullshit. What problem could seasoning sauce have? It was obviously bought in the same store as yours. I was about to refute but suddenly realized something. "Okay, I'll use the one you gave next time," I pretended to agree. Jason nodded with satisfaction. After dinner, I dug through the trash and retrieved those three bottles of sauce. From the appearance, these three bottles were no different from the ones I bought today. Even the color of the juice was similar. I dipped my finger and tasted it. The taste was completely different. One was overly sour, while the other was slightly sour with a fragrance. The difference in the curry chicken taste today was indeed due to the sauce. How can identical appearances have different tastes? Could this really be the "authentic Thai" one Jason mentioned? But I clearly saw Jason's mother buying the same sauce as me. I only felt my thoughts were chaotic and complicated. It seemed I was wandering in front of the truth, infinitely close, but unable to find the door.
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