"I estimate I'll need three tractors' worth of bricks, and later on, send some more over, including roof tiles," Qin Ye said, snapping Tie Zhu back to reality. He readily agreed, "Okay, don't worry about that, I'll take care of it for you."
Then he looked at the person in the bed. "Have you been to the hospital for this?"
A broken leg is a serious matter; without proper treatment, there's a chance it could lead to a limp.
"If you're short on money, I can lend you some."
Naturally, Qin Ye refused. "No need, I've already seen the doctor for the leg and injury, and it's healing well."
"Just take the money," Tie Zhu insisted, pulling out a stack of cash from his pocket. "This one hundred yuan is a loan to you, and the rest is the money your wife earned from selling goods—five jins of dried noodles—since these noodles are of good quality, two yuan and fifty cents a jin, so that makes one yuan and twenty-five cents in total."
Qin Ye: ...?
What noodles?
