Look, this is my husband's last cup.
It has many predecessors before it, and unlike this one, the predecessors are either glass or porcelain. Because these two materials are particularly brittle, they are often broken by my mother and me. With my husband's cup-loving personality, tell him he will definitely complain. We simply didn't say anything. Then he saw his cups disappear one by one. This should have been painful for him, a man with a strong memory, and had to linger between doubt and self-doubt (mostly doubt, occasionally under my three-inch tongue and powerful psychological attack).
In the end, he really couldn't do anything, so he bought a tough iron cup. On the day I bought it, I was still showing off: Look, iron, this time look at how you can break it.
I laughed at this and said dismissively: Hard to smash or smash rotten, why do you want to try?
My husband looked confused, and finally did not refute anything, holding his cup and running away.
