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

Song Xiangmei pulled Song Xianglan into the courtyard, waved the meat in front of Old Man Zhao, and said in a loud voice:

"Brother, look at this meat! My sister just got it from the slaughterhouse; it's bursting with juice after that cut!"

Old Zhao glanced sideways at the meat.

He made a gurgling sound in his throat.

"We need to settle the accounts." Song Xiangmei pulled a crumpled little notebook out of her pocket. It was a notebook that Old Zhao had never used before.

"This meat wasn't rationed, so it'll be charged at the black market price. I've already found out: 1.2 yuan per jin (500g), so 10 jin would be 12 yuan. Adding the pork bones, ribs, and liver, I'll charge you 13 yuan in total. That's not unreasonable, is it?"

Before Old Zhao could speak, his eyes glared at the corner of the wall.

His prized few orchids, which he cherished dearly, have now been uprooted.

They were thrown into the mud like weeds.

"Ha...ha..." Old Zhao was so angry that he trembled all over, pointing at the piece of soil and spitting as he spoke.

Song Xiangmei glared at her.

"Can flowers be eaten? I'll clear this space and plant some scallions, ginger, and garlic, and then catch a couple of chickens in a couple of days. Then you'll have steamed egg custard every day. Isn't that better than looking at those few wretched flowers?"

Old Zhao rolled his eyes in anger.

He slapped his hands loudly on the armrests of the wheelchair.

Song Xiangmei slammed the meat onto the stone table.

"Don't bang on the table or glare at me. If you're worried about the flowers, I won't keep track of the meat cost, and you don't have to eat it. My third sister brought it all the way here; I'll cook it for myself, and you can just drink your cabbage soup!"

Old Zhao froze.

The aroma of meat wafted right under my nose, and the craving in my stomach instantly suppressed my anger.

His life has been full of ups and downs.

In the end, they may end up with unfilial children, incontinence, and even be unable to afford meat.

What's the point of living?

Suicide is also difficult.

"Eat...eat..." Old Zhao squeezed out the word through his teeth and nodded.

"That's right."

Song Xiangmei proudly wrote down the thirteen yuan in her notebook, saying, "Eating and drinking well is better than looking at flowers and plants. I'll push you outside to look at free flowers and plants every day."

She gave Song Xiangmei thirteen yuan.

They said they couldn't let her make a wasted trip.

Song Xianglan stood silently to the side the whole time.

Only then did her gaze shift from Old Man Zhao to a row of flowerpots in the corner of the yard.

One of the blue and white porcelain basins was covered in mud and grime, and inside it was a nearly dead orchid.

Song Xiangmei followed her gaze.

He pouted.

"We treasure even the wild grass on the hill behind us. This pot looks like it could hold chicken feed. I'll clean it up later, and it'll be perfect for the chickens."

Song Xianglan's eyelids twitched.

In her previous life, when she was collecting scraps, she learned a few tricks from a down-on-his-luck old antique dealer.

This isn't a broken basin; it's a genuine blue and white porcelain piece.

The old man looked dejected.

The house is full of good stuff.

"Big sister, you go ahead with your work. I'll go pull out the weeds in this pot and make room for you to use as a chicken feeder."

Song Xiangmei was happy to have someone help her, so she rolled up her sleeves and headed to the kitchen: "Okay, then you can read those books to the old man for me, and I'll go marinate the meat. It's getting late, and I still need to go to the cotton fluffer to make a cotton quilt."

Once Song Xiangmei left...

Song Xianglan walked to the corner of the wall, quickly uprooted the half-dead orchid, and casually stuck it into the mud next to her.

Old Zhao watched as the exquisite Su Guan He Ding, which he had acquired at great expense, was ruined.

My heart is bleeding.

He glared at Song Xianglan with a crooked mouth and slanted eyes, as if he wanted to pounce on her and bite her.

"Alright, stop glaring."

Song Xianglan patted the mud off her hands, walked over and pushed the wheelchair to a sheltered spot, casually picked up the newspaper, and said, "Save your energy. If I were you, I wouldn't be angry."

Instead of reading the newspaper, she spoke in a voice so quiet that only two people could hear her:

"Old Zhao, you're a sensible man. Any one of your treasures could fetch a good price, it's a pity your children don't recognize them."

Are you content to guard mountains of gold and silver while your unfilial daughter treats you like a pig or a dog?

Old Zhao's cloudy eyes instantly sharpened.

He stared intently at Song Xianglan.

She recognized his family background.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm not after your meager savings for your funeral."

Song Xianglan pulled over a small stool and sat opposite him.

"I'm only doing this because I pity you. You used to be a powerful leader who could command great influence."

What now?

Six on the left hand, seven on the right; mouth and nose slanted, eyebrows and eyes lowered; left foot circling, right foot kicking; heart like a sieve, mouth humming.

This rhyme is so mean.

Old Zhao was so angry that his chest heaved violently, and his throat made a sound like a bellows.

Are you angry?

Song Xianglan sneered:

"It's okay to be angry. It's completely useless. What can you do besides whining here?"

Does your daughter treat you well and provide for you?

Has your son-in-law ever come to see you?

You've saved up all your treasures your whole life, and when you kick the bucket, won't they all just end up benefiting those ungrateful wretches?

The veins on the back of Old Zhao's withered hands bulged out.

"I want to do business with you."

Song Xianglan leaned forward and said slowly:

"I know an old Chinese medicine doctor who is an expert in acupuncture. He specializes in treating old people like you who are paralyzed on one side but still unwilling to accept their fate."

As long as you're not completely dead, she can revive you to look somewhat human.

Old Zhao's eyes snapped open.

His breathing became rapid.

"But he's a reclusive master, and his consultation fees are quite high."

"I'm a ruthless person, and my referral fee isn't cheap."

Song Xianglan pointed to the blue-and-white porcelain basin in the corner, "I'd trade this broken basin from your house and that stack of dishes from your kitchen for the half-life you've saved, for the chance to stand up and slap those unfilial sons across the face. Are you in or not?"

Old Zhao stared intently at Song Xianglan.

It seems they are judging whether this statement is true or false.

Then I thought about it again.

That woman is so heartless.

I don't want to do any good deeds.

Song Xianglan wasn't in a hurry, and slowly began to talk about her own affairs:

"I'm a petty person who holds grudges. My ex-husband cheated on me and still treats me like a fool, making me raise his illegitimate child."

I didn't cry or make a scene. I waited for the slut to come back before they were arrested and sent to a labor camp.

I'm living the high life now, eating and drinking like a king, and every now and then I'll stroll over to that bastard and give him a kick or two. That's what I call awesome! And you? Are you content to die a pathetic death like this?"

These words were like a flaming fire.

It directly ignited the ashes in Old Zhao's heart.

He was a strong-willed man all his life, and in his old age, he lived in a pile of excrement for more than ten days.

If it weren't for Song Xiangmei coming...

He's still lying in a mess of excrement and urine.

Old Zhao, who was originally unable to speak, was provoked by Song Xianglan's anger and his vocal cords were damaged.

"Change!"

With all his might, Old Zhao roared out each word from his throat, "I...want...revenge!"

Song Xianglan slapped her thigh. "I love dealing with tough people. We were tough guys back in the day, and we can't let these little brats bully us when we're old."

After saying that, she turned around and went into the kitchen, taking out a stack of unremarkable dishes from the cupboard.

I found some old newspapers, wrapped them up layer by layer, and finally put them, along with the blue and white porcelain basin, into the large bamboo basket on the back of the bicycle.

To avoid damaging it.

She even went to the corner of the wall and grabbed a bundle of straw, stuffing it tightly inside.

"I'll bring the traditional Chinese medicine doctor over tomorrow."

When Song Xiangmei finished her work and came over, she saw Song Xianglan pushing the cart and about to leave, and she was stunned for a moment:

"Third Sister, are you leaving already? Won't you stay a little longer?"

"No, I have things to do at home."

Song Xianglan hopped on her bicycle. "Big sister, I'll bring a doctor over tomorrow. It's Cong Ying, you know him. Let him give this old man a couple of acupuncture treatments. He's agreed; as long as he gets better, the consultation fee is negotiable."

Song Xiangmei looked at him suspiciously: "Cong Ying?"

Is that little girl okay?

Can an old man believe that?

"Just leave it alone," Song Xianglan waved her hand.

After seeing Song Xianglan off.

Song Xiangmei returned to the kitchen.

She froze, peered into the cupboard for a long time, and then searched the kitchen inside and out.

"This is outrageous!"

Song Xiangmei scratched her head and came out, looking at Old Zhao with a puzzled expression. "Brother, isn't it strange? That stack of bowls and plates that was just in the cupboard just now, how did it all disappear in the blink of an eye? Did those bowls grow legs and run away?"

Old Zhao closed his eyes.

Pretend you know nothing.

These two sisters are quite contrasting: one is genuinely naive, and the other is truly ruthless.

The younger sister's hair is hollow when plucked; she's all cunning and scheming.

……

Song Xianglan rode her bicycle back to the village, humming a little tune.

Song Qiang was squatting against the wall, smoking silently, while Nie Xiaochuan stood beside him, not daring to utter a sound.

Song Qiang's face was as black as the bottom of a pot. When he saw Song Xianglan return, he threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped on it hard: "Third Aunt, one day I'll tear Lin Ping's stinking mouth apart."

"What's wrong?" Song Xianglan parked the car.

"That woman is spewing filth!"

Song Qiang was trembling with anger. "She said in a sarcastic tone that my husband's next child would definitely be another girl. She even said that I, Song Qiang, am destined to have no male heirs and will only have a litter of money-losing babies."

Song Xianglan sighed inwardly.

In his previous life, Song Qiang had seven daughters in a row in order to have a son.

The couple fought every day, making their home a chaotic mess.

"It's the same whether you have a boy or a girl."

Song Xianglan unloaded the bamboo basket. "In the future, it's probably your daughter who will be more filial. Look at your aunt's sons, what good are they?"

"That's different!"

Song Qiang, his neck stiff and eyes bloodshot, said, "Without a son, the family line ends. You can't even stand up straight in the village."

A son is the face, a daughter is the substance.

In this life, what's the use of having substance if you lose face? People in the village always say that so-and-so is a childless heir, just thinking about profiting from the childless heir.

Song Xianglan shook her head as she looked at his dazed expression.

The people in Qingyang are more sexist than in many other places. Even decades later, they still can't shake the idea of ​​having a son, and talking to them about it is like casting pearls before swine.

She ignored Song Qiang and carried the basket of treasures into the house.

"Xiao Chuan, did you know your mother went to work as a nanny in the county?"

Nie Xiaochuan: "..."