Chapter 101: Monday Morning Mingzhu.
When madam Feng woke up to prepare Mingzhu’s school lunch box, she was shocked to find that it was prepared. She had opened her eyes at six, in the morning, thinking she was the earliest to wake up in the house. Who had woken up earlier than her to steal the credit and kisses she was planning to get from her grand baby? Did nobody respect the special grandma-grandchild bond or code anymore?
Her questions were answered answered came two culprits entered the house, sweat dripping from their foreheads, breathing heavily and dressed in work out clothes.
"Good morning madam Feng." Mei Mei shouted a greeting out while accepting a warm damp towel from a maid that she used to wipe her face.
"I told you to call me mother, mom, cool mom....." Feng Qi did not like the way Mei Mei called her madam Feng, it drew lines and made their relationship similar to that of strangers.
"Good morning cool mom." Jingzhe greeted cheekily with an amused glint in his eyes. "Are you going to exercise as well?"
Jingzhe asked because his mother liked to keep fit. She took walks, did yoga, pilates,and qigong. Not all at the same time but each day had its own exercise routine. If she was awake early in the morning, it was either exercise or work.
Jingzhe scratched that in his mind and added a third option to his list; Mingzhu.
Feng Qi replied, "I was going to prepare Mingzhu’s lunch box but it seems you both beat me to it. I will prepare breakfast, you two go and take a bath and then wake Mingzhu up. I have seen how much she hates Mondays and I do not want to be the one that wakes her up and reminds her that it is Monday."
Mei Mei was the one that would be falling on that sword, she was used to her daughter’s "life sucks" Monday morning look. Mingzhu was like the grumpiest of all grumpy old men every Monday morning.
She would have to be woken up forcefully, and what followed would be dramatic. Mingzhu would trudge into the bathroom like a disgruntled zombie, her hair was usually chaotic, having gone through some kind of battle in the night. She would give her mother accusing glares of betrayal through half-lidded eyes, blaming her for waking her up.
Sometimes, she would doze with a toothbrush in her mouth or cry when water touched her body. Dressing up would be as slow battle, if left on her own, she was often found on the bed sleeping again with one sock on or an unbuttoned shirt. Her appearance could be comparable to that of a little drunk that had tried to dress up or undress and simply given up halfway through. Breakfast would be another battle to fight.