Old Mrs. Song is reborn; get out of here, you scumbag husband and illegitimate child!

After finishing her meal, Song Xianglan pushed her bowl and chopsticks aside and nudged Song Tingting, who was lost in thought while holding a book.

"Go and call Cong Ying here."

Song Tingting responded.

He put down the book and ran outside.

Before long, hurried footsteps came from the doorway.

Cong Ying, carrying an old medicine box on her back, stepped across the threshold, panting.

This girl was known for her studiousness in the educated youth settlement. Although she was a barefoot doctor, her dedication to learning was no less than that of doctors in the city.

"Aunt Song, are you feeling unwell?" Cong Ying put down the suitcase, not even bothering to wipe the sweat from her brow.

Song Xianglan pointed to her eldest sister, who was sitting awkwardly on the bench.

"It's not me, it's your aunt. You take a good look at her, especially... that part."

Song Xianglan did not say it explicitly.

But his gaze swept downwards.

Cong Ying understood.

Song Xianglan still harbored resentment over what her aunt had said when she changed her pants.

Cong Ying moved a small stool and sat opposite Song Xiangmei.

First, I took his pulse.

His brows furrowed and relaxed, then furrowed again.

Then he asked a few more questions in a low voice about how it felt there.

Song Xiangmei's face turned a deep liver color.

After stammering for a long time, he managed to squeeze out a few words, like squeezing toothpaste.

Cong Ying listened.

She sighed and uttered four words softly: "Many children, many mothers suffer."

She looked up, her eyes filled with a hint of reluctance.

Looking at Song Xianglan, she said, "Aunt Song, my aunt's gynecological problems have been dragging on for too long. It's a severe inflammation, and coupled with years of childbirth without proper care, she's become extremely weak and her health has completely collapsed."

Song Xianglan's heart sank.

These days, women are just baby-making machines, machines that aren't even given fuel.

Men can't maintain proper personal hygiene.

The woman didn't dare bring it up either.

Ashamed to speak of it.

Song Xiangmei wore the same pair of underwear for several years until it was as hard as iron. She was covered in sweat and mud while working in the fields. She had just given birth and was back in the fields earning work points only three days later. Even her iron body couldn't withstand such abuse.

The word "virtuous and kind" is used to describe this.

Like an iron chain, it ties the woman to the millstone until the last drop of blood is ground away.

Song Xiangmei was terrified by this diagnosis.

Their hands were tangled together.

Her voice trembled with tears and grievance: "Doctor, I... I've never messed around in my life! I'm this old now, it's impossible for me to have that kind of relationship with your brother-in-law again..."

She was afraid...

Being talked about behind one's back.

"Auntie, what are you thinking?"

Cong Ying didn't treat herself as an outsider and immediately began to impart knowledge:

"This has nothing to do with messing around. It's because the hygiene wasn't maintained properly."

If a man doesn't clean his genitals properly, bacteria can be directly transmitted to the woman.

And underwear, that's worn close to the skin, you have to replace it every three months, and you should scald it with boiling water regularly.

Song Xiangmei was stunned.

His mouth was so wide open it could fit an egg.

"Goodness... changing a shirt every three months? I've hardly ever worn a decent pair in my entire life. That's such a waste of fabric, such a waste of money..."

She paused.

Then, as if recalling the gossip in the village, he shrank his neck and whispered:

"The women in our village said that if a man finds something dirty in a woman's private parts, he'll assume she's having an affair and beat her when he gets home. He says it's just 'slutty'... So, the root of the problem lies with the men?"

After further consideration.

Men urinate the same thing.

It's pretty dirty.

Cong Ying deftly took out a syringe from the box and gave Song Xiangmei an anti-inflammatory injection.

Then he took out several paper packets and carefully packaged the pills according to their type.

"Besides taking medicine, you also need to supplement your diet."

As Cong Ying tidied up, she muttered, "Cockscomb flower, red date, and lean pork soup, to stop leukorrhea and replenish blood; cockscomb flower, dandelion, and pork rib porridge, to reduce inflammation and clear heat. Auntie, these are all for you to eat."

Upon hearing "meat" and "ribs," Song Xiangmei shook her head vigorously.

"No, no. Where would I get the spare money to eat meat and drink soup? That's for the hardworking men and the growing grandchildren. I'm just an old man, rice porridge is enough for me."

That's not for treating illness.

This is drinking blood.

Song Xianglan stood to the side with a cold face and didn't say anything.

Song Tingting listened attentively, muttering to herself as she repeated the recipe: "Auntie, I've got it. I'll make it for you when I get back tomorrow."

Song Xiangmei could only helplessly hum in agreement.

He was determined not to waste his third sister's money.

Cong Ying packed up her medicine kit.

A shy yet joyful smile appeared on her face.

Turning to Song Xianglan, he said, "Aunt Song, my exams are over. I think I can get into medical school, and I want to go back to my hometown to study. I've missed home these past few years in Xiaoquan Brigade."

A girl from a big city.

It's not easy to spend your youth in this rural area.

"That's a good thing, your aunt supports you."

Song Xianglan turned and went into the inner room, opened a drawer, and took out a shiny ladies' watch.

"Take it."

Song Xianglan stuffed the watch into Cong Ying's hand, saying, "Consider it a gift from your aunt for your college admission."

Cong Ying was startled and quickly pushed it back:

"No way! It's too valuable! Aunt Song, we've already saved up quite a bit of money by trading goods with a few of us educated youths these past few days. How can we possibly take your things?"

"Take it if I give it to you! When you become a great doctor, just don't forget your aunt."

Song Xianglan insisted on fastening the watch to her wrist.

Cong Ying couldn't refuse, and accepted it with tears in her eyes.

She touched the watch and sighed:

"Aunt Song, the people here are really clever; they even came up with the idea of ​​'human flesh transporting goods'."

Song Xianglan smiled, thinking to herself, "What's the big deal?"

It's all because of poverty. As long as you can make money, people will use all sorts of tricks.

Decades later, there are still people using international flights as human mules.

When seeing Cong Ying off.

The young girl stopped and pulled Song Xianglan into the shadows.

His voice was extremely low, conveying a sense of seriousness:

"Aunt Song, my aunt's health is severely depleted. She looks like she's about to die. If she doesn't take good care of herself, it'll only be a year or two before she passes away."

Song Xianglan's heart skipped a beat, and her fingernails dug into her palm.

Sure enough, that's how my older sister died in my past life.

He gave his all, even his last drop of blood.

Not a single kind word was spared.

"I understand. Thank you, girl." Song Xianglan patted Cong Ying's hand, her voice a little hoarse.

After seeing Cong Ying off, Song Xianglan went back to her room to wash up.

Song Tingting peeked in and asked, "Did your sister-in-law call?"

"No. I'll call and ask tomorrow."

That night, the two sisters squeezed together on a kang (a heated brick bed) and chatted until the wee hours.

Song Xiangmei talked about the pigs at home, the crops in the fields, and her grandson, but she didn't say a word about her own suffering.

They talked about their childhood again, and finally said that life was better when they were at their parents' home.

The next morning.

The sky was just beginning to lighten.

Song Xianglan quietly got up.

The eldest sister was still asleep, and even in her dreams, her brows were tightly furrowed, like an unresolved knot.

Song Xianglan sighed, feeling a pang of sadness.

I put on my clothes and went out.

I rode that old-fashioned bicycle.

Braving the biting morning wind, Song Xianglan headed straight for the slaughterhouse.

The slaughterhouse reeked of blood.

The ground was covered in red and white filthy water.

"Third Aunt! So early?"

Song Xiaohe was carrying a bucket when he saw Song Xianglan and quickly greeted her.

He is a cousin of the Song family and took over Song Xianglan's job here.

Before Song Xianglan could speak, he quickly scooped out a full bucket of steaming hot, fresh pig's blood. "Take some back with you. It's freshly collected and still warm."

"Okay, I'll bring the bucket to you later. Do you have any bone marrow?"

"Yes! I saved some for you."

Just then, Liu Yidao, with a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips, sauntered over.

His leather apron was so worn that its original color was no longer visible; it was greasy and black, and he was fiddling with a boning knife in his hand.

He squinted and leaned closer to Song Xianglan.

He looked her up and down.

A puff of smoke came out of his mouth:

"Hey, Old Song. You're enjoying your retirement, aren't you? Your face has gotten a bit rounder."

He kept saying he'd gained weight.

He made an exaggerated big circle with his hand, implying that he was as fat as a pig's head.

Song Xianglan didn't indulge him either.

He raised his foot and delivered a powerful kick to the chest: "Get lost! You can't expect anything good to come out of a dog's mouth!"

Liu Yidao was agile.

He dodged to the side and chuckled to himself.

"Old Song, are you getting impatient? Women shouldn't be like you, too impulsive."

Song Xiaohe had already run far away.

They were afraid that if the city gates caught fire, the innocent bystanders would be affected.

Song Xianglan rolled her eyes at him, annoyed: "Did you sell the things from last time?"

Liu Yidao dropped his playful grin and nodded:

"Don't worry, it's all been taken care of."

As he spoke, he looked around and pulled a brightly colored box out of the dark little house behind him.

"Here you go. It's good stuff."

Song Xianglan took it and saw that it was a box of imported chocolates.

"It was sent back by my relatives abroad. They said it was to help my daughter-in-law and daughters get better health."

Liu Yidao took a deep drag on his cigarette.

His eyes darkened.

He chuckled.

"He thought I had a house full of children and grandchildren, but who knew I'd cut off this branch of the family line. This old man like me can't get used to this stuff."

Boil chocolate with fermented glutinous rice, add a poached egg and some brown sugar, and it's a great tonic for new mothers during their postpartum period.

Song Xianglan thought of her elder sister's withered body.

This is exactly what's needed.

"Thanks." Song Xianglan didn't stand on ceremony and tucked the box into her bosom.

Liu Yidao waved his hand.

He turned around and went back to handling the pig offal.

His silhouette looked somewhat forlorn.

This old man is now selling goods with Song Xianglan, and he's saving money by following her advice.

I plan to buy a house and a shop in a few years to save up for my funeral.

Song Xianglan carefully put the chocolate away.

I went and bought a few more pounds of pork, ribs, and pig's heart. I only went home after I finished shopping.