In My Desperate Time Chapter 292: A Hard Time

As a courtesy, I should call her mother-in-law, but I don't want to say it.

And she doesn't want to hear it either.

"I didn't come here to see where you slept. I'm hungry. Fix me some lunch. In addition, since you're not
going to go out to work, you should wash the clothes and clean up the house. The Louis' never feeds
the freeloaders!"

Sabina says, almost rudely.

Actually, after a few meetings, I can already tell that Sabina isn't the woman she acts like in public. As a
pianist, she is supposed to be an elegant and aloof woman. But in fact, she is no different from an
typical evil mother-in-law.

Moreover, she is a woman of privilege and wealth. That makes her willful viciousness even more
obvious.

"I still have a fever." I say weakly.

"It looks like you're not that weak. Get up quickly. Serve the food in half an hour. Or you just wait and
see!"

Sabina says and goes down. I have no choice but to get up from the bed and stagger downstairs.

I'm not a pushover. I just don't think it will do me any favors by messing with her.

I am so dizzy that I don't even know how I make it.

I cook some noodles, bringing the bowl to Sabina, and prepare to go upstairs to rest.

Sabina has one mouthful and slams down the chopsticks. She stops me.



"Are you trying to poison me? Look at what you cooked!"

"What's wrong with it?" I asked doubtfully.

I am groggy. But that makes no difference to what I cooked. Seasoning the dish is almost my instinct. It
is impossible for me to add them wrong.

"I'm a public figure who needs to perform. You put on so much chili pepper, so how can I perform after
eating it?!" Sabina snaps with a cold face.

Chili pepper? Perform?

She's a pianist, not a singer. What's wrong with having chili?

I don't understand what chili has to do with performance, so there is only one conclusion.

Sabina is making things difficult for me.

I should have thought of this a long time ago.

However, I don't have the strength to argue with her. I chuck the noodles out and say to her, "I'll make
another bowl."

Then I enter the kitchen again.

After finishing it, I bring another bowl to Sabina.

When I walk out of the kitchen, I almost can't hold the bowl.

It's not OK. I'm too dizzy. I need to go to bed immediately.



"Do you put oil in the dish? I want to keep my figure. Are you trying to make me fat by putting on so
much oil? You know it is hard to keep fit at my age!"

Sabina doesn't stop picking on me.

I understand that no matter what I do, she will not be satisfied. Since I'm not feeling well, I'm too lazy to
please her.

"Since you're not satisfied with what I cooked, you can do it yourself."

I say indifferently, not wanting to bother with her anymore.

"If I had to do it myself, what are you doing at home?! To Frances, you might be a mistress. But to me,
you're just a servant!"

She is rude when she speaks. With that mean attitude, it is hard to believe that she is a respected
artist.

"Whatever you say, I can't serve you anyway."

After saying that, I go upstairs.

Of course, I lock the door to prevent her from bothering me again.


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