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

"Ninety-nine, no ticket required. This is a parallel import from Hong Kong. If you were to buy imported goods at an overseas Chinese store, it would cost at least two or three hundred." Song Xianglan spoke fluently.

A collective gasp filled the air.

The group of people seemed to be rooted to the spot; not one of them moved.

The woman with wavy hair glanced at the red light on the digital watch, then reached into her pocket, pulled out a wad of ten yuan bills, counted them twice, and shoved ten into Song Xianglan's hand.

"Give me one, pick a good one, one without scratches."

"Don't worry, they're all original." Song Xianglan took the money, deftly picked out a brand-new one and handed it over, giving him a dollar in change.

This is the opening.

It's like opening a floodgate.

"Hey lady, do you have any other clothes? Like those two hanging on your handlebars?" The woman with wavy hair slipped the watch onto her wrist, glanced at it with a smug look, and then her gaze fell on the pile of bags.

Song Xianglan tossed her hair back, and the scent of mousse mixed with the smell of face cream wafted out.

"Yes, yes. This one I'm wearing can also be bought for your mothers and mothers-in-law."

Before setting off, she specially changed into a fitted floral shirt, paired with dark blue straight-leg pants and leather shoes. Her hair was styled with mousse. Among a group of people in gray-blue work clothes, she looked like a complete idiot.

The woman with the wavy hair stared wide-eyed and reached out to touch the fabric of Song Xianglan's shirt.

"This dress is really nice. And a skirt? What style is it?"

"There are also full skirts like this that don't wrinkle." Song Xianglan led a few people to stand by the tricycle and casually unfolded a red skirt with white flowers.

"I'll take it!" the woman with the wavy hair shouted. "How much?"

"Skirts are eighteen, shirts are twelve, and trousers are fifteen," Song Xianglan rattled off quickly. "All of these are prices without tickets."

"I want the red one. And that shirt too."

"Give me the puff-sleeved dress too."

As soon as one side started grabbing, the other workers who were off duty couldn't sit still either.

Zhou Fang and Song Dong were still shouting when they saw this, so they quickly tore open all the woven bags.

A row of digital watches, jeans hanging on the handlebars, and a radio cassette player that wasn't powered on but still exuded class just by its head.

There are also bear-shaped cookies with fancy packaging; just looking at the tin box makes your mouth water.

The cigarettes and alcohol were placed next to the bear-shaped cookies.

"Get me two pairs of jeans. The flared kind!"

"I want one of those watches too, and give me one that lights up."

"How much are these cookies? I'd like two boxes for my child to try."

A group of people held up large denomination bills and squeezed in.

Song Nan, Huang Ronghua, and Wang Zhihe were guarding the car, initially worried that it wouldn't be easy to sell since they were unfamiliar with the area. But as soon as they took out a piece of clothing, it was snatched away, and the money was stuffed directly into their pockets.

"Don't push. Line up, everyone line up, there's enough for everyone!"

Wang Zhihe was stepped on.

Ignoring the pain, he clutched the money tightly in his hand, his face flushed red.

He and Zhou Fang exchanged a glance, both seeing the shock in each other's eyes.

That's incredible.

If you sell something in Qingyang, those people can haggle with you for ten minutes over two cents, and even after you leave, they'll look back three times.

People here, after asking the price and hearing there's no discount, just hand over their money.

"How much is this tape recorder?" A bespectacled man squeezed in, pointing at the big machine.

"Three hundred and twenty, plus two cassette tapes," Song Dong shouted.

"I'll take it." The man started counting the money without saying another word.

In just over half an hour, the goods on the two tricycles and one bicycle were almost gone.

Two boxes of biscuits that had been crushed were also sold.

The woman with wavy hair, still clutching five pieces of clothing, stared longingly at the empty bag: "That's it? I haven't even picked out anything for my best friends yet!"

Song Xianglan glanced at the lingering crowd around her and clapped her hands: "That's all for today. But we'll come back tomorrow."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the woman with wavy hair.

"Hey girl, you seem pretty straightforward. Tomorrow at noon, we'll meet behind that half-smashed temple up ahead. If you can bring ten people to buy things, I'll give you a shirt."

"real?"

The woman with the wavy hair widened her eyes. "A shirt?"

"I'd be a dog if I lied to you." Song Xianglan lowered her voice, "If you could bring thirty people, I'd not only give you a shirt, but also a skirt."

"Okay. You wait! I can bring you fifty, let alone thirty."

"My colleagues in the office have been wanting to buy this kind of dress for a long time, but there's nowhere to buy it." The woman with wavy hair was so excited that her makeup almost came off.

Song Xianglan then called out to the people around her who hadn't bought anything:

"Did everyone hear what I just said? Bring your people and you'll be rewarded. See you at the ruined temple tomorrow at noon!"

After asking a few more questions and receiving an answer, they quickly went back to pull people away.

Each of them wore an excited expression, as if they had received some glorious mission.

Everyone had left.

Several people slumped on the curb by the roadside, panting heavily.

"My goodness..." Zhou Fang wiped the sweat from his forehead, his hands trembling. "Godmother, the people here are really rich. They pull out money like it's nothing."

Song Xianglan's eyes were full of joy. "There are many dual-income families here, with high wages and good benefits. Housing is provided, medical care is free, and we can save half of our monthly salary."

What they lack isn't money, but scarce goods that improve their lives—good things that can be bought without ration coupons.

This is the information gap.

It's also due to regional differences.

After resting for a few minutes, the group went to the state-run restaurant to buy food.

You need tickets to buy food here, unless you go to the black market.

Unlike Qingyang and Xincheng, they can sell you tickets even without them, they'll just be a bit more expensive.

Song Xianglan had tickets, all of which were nationally valid tickets given to her by Song Xiangdong. She also exchanged some tickets with Lai Fengshou and carried them with her, as she needed to have good food while traveling.

We arrived at the truck.

Invite everyone to come over for dinner.

Da Bao and Er Bao, who were chasing butterflies, ran over, sniffling.

"Grandma, Bao is hungry too."

Song Xianglan quickly told Zhou Fang and the others to take the basins out of the tricycle's cargo bed.

As soon as the lid was lifted, a rich aroma of meat exploded out.

The braised pork knuckle was glistening with oil.

Next to it was a large bowl of white rice, along with scrambled eggs with tomatoes, stir-fried cowpeas with preserved olives, and hot and sour shredded potatoes, filling several large bowls to the brim. Next to it, in a mesh bag, were twenty or thirty plump white meat buns and steamed bread.

"Holy crap, there's a giant pork knuckle!" Song Nan's eyes lit up, and he reached out to grab it.

"Use chopsticks," Song Xianglan slapped him.

The group quickly washed their hands in the roadside ditch.

We sat in a circle around the pots of vegetables.

Song Xianglan first put a large piece of pork knuckle with skin and meat on each of the two children, then put some vegetables in her own bowl before signaling the others to start eating.

The moment you start eating, it's like a battlefield.

Song Nan picked up the stainless steel bowl of rice, his chopsticks flashing, and stuffed a large piece of fatty meat into his mouth, swallowing it without even chewing. Zhou Fang and Liu Yukun were not to be outdone, their cheeks puffed out like hamsters.

Even the usually refined Song Dong disregarded his image and buried himself in his food.

Da Bao and Er Bao are like two little wolf cubs guarding their food.

He held the bowl without even looking up.

In just over ten minutes, the wind swept away the remaining clouds.

Several large basins were cleaner than a face, even the last drop of soup had been wiped clean.

Looking at the pack of hungry wolves, Song Xianglan sighed:

"Luckily, I only had one son. If I had had more children like you, the slaughterhouse wages wouldn't even be enough to feed you."

Song Nan let out a burp and rubbed his stomach, which wasn't fully bloated yet.

"Third Aunt, actually... I feel like I can eat a little more."

Song Xianglan's lips twitched.

"Are you a pig? Take a bun and eat it." She was saving it for tomorrow morning.

"Grandma, we're not hungry anymore." Da Bao and Er Bao blinked their big, bright eyes at her, their mouths still greasy.

Just take that with a grain of salt.

If a child says they're not hungry, it means they're not fully full yet.

Song Xianglan kicked Zhou Fang.

"Go and bring the rest of the bag of steamed buns and bread over to distribute."

Zhou Fang chuckled and scurried off to get the steamed buns, handing Song Xianglan a meat bun as he went: "Godmother, you've only seen us eat, you haven't eaten much yourself, have another bun."

Song Xianglan originally thought she was full.

But looking at these hot buns and smelling their oily aroma, I felt like I could stuff another one in.

They ate and drank their fill.

The group divided up the tasks and went to a nearby stream to wash dishes and fetch water.

Summer nights are filled with mosquitoes in the woods, but they are also cool.

Song Xianglan quickly washed herself and then had someone lay a straw mat on the ground.

These days, there aren't many rules when you're out and about; the sky is your blanket and the ground is your bed.

Da Bao and Er Bao snuggled up beside her.

She fell asleep very quickly.

But Song Xianglan's sleep was quite painful.

These grown men were exhausted after a long day, and the moment their heads hit the pillows, their snoring was deafening. Song Nan, in particular, snored like a bellows, with a rhythm, each snoring louder than the last, occasionally accompanied by a few words of sleep talking and teeth grinding.

You can hear farting sounds from time to time.

That smelled bad too.

Song Xianglan tossed and turned making pancakes, but finally couldn't take it anymore, so she got up and crawled into the truck's cab.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

Early the next morning.

The sky was just beginning to lighten.

Song Xianglan was awakened by a knocking sound on the window.

Zhou Fang stood outside the car carrying hot soy milk and fried dough sticks.

"Godmother, I bought soy milk, fried dough sticks, steamed buns, and dumplings."

Song Xianglan got off the bus.

The group squatted by the roadside and ate their breakfast.

After eating and drinking her fill, Song Xianglan felt refreshed and energetic again.

"We'll split up today."

Song Xianglan began assigning tasks, "Liu Yukun, Song Fei, Song Dong, Huang Ronghua, Zhou Fang, you guys come with me for a bike ride into the city, we'll go street sweeping. Song Nan, Wang Zhihe, Erhei, you take Dabao and Erbao to watch the bikes, and sort out the goods while you're at it."

"OK!"

Several people readily agreed.

After last night's battle, everyone is more confident now.

Song Xianglan climbed onto the tricycle, glanced back at the group of spirited young men, and waved her hand: "Let's hurry up and go sell our goods at the entrance of the department store, and come back early to wait for lunch to go to the back of the dilapidated temple."