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

Song Xianglan rolled her eyes again. "Didn't you say that if you're only one person eating your fill, the whole family won't go hungry? Why are you suddenly thinking about building a house?"

"The little bit of money I've painstakingly saved for my funeral will be borrowed up by those bastards if I don't spend it soon."

Liu Yidao was so angry that he kept snorting.

I plopped down on the stone bench, and the smell of the sea became even stronger.

Since he started getting goods from Song Xianglan to sell in bulk, he has also taken on some side jobs of slaughtering pigs and selling meat.

I simply don't have time to go out for meals and drinks with those fair-weather friends.

I saved up some money over the course of a year.

But things didn't go as planned.

Yesterday, Old Zhang said his son was 500 yuan short of the bride price for his wedding. The day before yesterday, Old Li said he was 800 yuan short to buy his son a job.

This morning, Xiao Zhao said his mother was sick and asked me to help out a little. Also, my neighbor said her grandson's education is funded by my financial support.

So, I run a charity?

They all see me still single and think that since I'll die and have nowhere to spend my money, they're making arrangements for me in advance.

Song Xianglan was amused.

"So you want to turn all your money into bricks and tiles?"

Liu Yidao stared wide-eyed.

"I'll build a house, make it grand, and this will be my home from now on."

If anyone comes to borrow money again, I'll point to the house and say, "It's all being built into the walls. If you're so capable, go ahead and tear down the walls and take them."

That's a brilliant move.

Only someone with Liu Yidao's reckless and unruly nature could do something like that.

"Alright, since you've made up your mind, I'll call Zhou Fang over." Song Xianglan didn't hesitate and turned to go out, where she saw a young man and asked him to go and call Zhou Fang over.

Not long after.

Zhou Fang ran over, covered in sweat, with lime powder still stuck to his sleeves.

Liu Yidao is also a straightforward person.

After telling Zhou Fang what he needed, he took out a cloth bag that was still warm from his body and handed it to Zhou Fang without saying a word.

"This is the deposit. I can't get the bricks and tiles, you get those. If you need gifts or favors, get them from me. If it's not enough, come back to me."

Zhou Fang was holding the heavy cloth bag in her hands.

"Okay, how big of a house are you going to build?"

Liu Yidao pointed to Song Xianglan's three-story house, "I want one like that too. Red brick, three stories, with a big yard. You can be my general contractor, and I won't skimp on the wages. I only have one requirement: good quality."

Zhou Fang held the money bag, his palms slightly warm.

This is a big job.

Song Xianglan thought it was a good idea. "Liu Yidao may be a chatterbox, but he's quick to pay. Zhou Fang, I see you're also interested in building houses; this line of work can be profitable in the future."

Her eyes held a meaningful look.

"Just knowing how to build walls isn't enough; you need to understand design and structure. Go to the city library, get a card, and borrow some books on architecture."

Zhou Fang is quick-witted.

He immediately understood the meaning behind Song Xianglan's words.

"Godmother, you mean...?"

"The architecture departments at Tsinghua University and Tongji University are top-notch." Song Xianglan didn't elaborate, pointing to her head, "Not having the opportunity to go to university doesn't mean you can't learn their skills. Set this up, and you'll be a big shot in the real estate industry in the future."

The light in Zhou Fang's eyes suddenly became frighteningly bright.

He nodded emphatically.

"I understand. Uncle Dao will definitely build a house that's even more impressive than the Overseas Chinese Building."

With Liu Yidao's injection of funds.

Zhou Fang was completely overwhelmed with work.

During the day, I had to keep an eye on the construction site, and also run around to the brick factory and to get approvals from the brigade headquarters.

I'll be back tonight.

I also had to study those obscure and difficult architecture books.

He entrusted his two children to Huang Ronghua's family. They had ten yuan a month for food, and all three meals a day were provided by Huang Ronghua's family.

Huang Ronghua's wife was overjoyed. She loved children, and Huang Ronghua and Zhou Fang were sworn brothers.

It's also good for both my first and second child.

Song Tingting came home from school.

Zhou Fang also kept asking him all sorts of questions.

"How do you calculate the formula for the stress analysis of this 'load-bearing wall'?" Zhou Fang asked, pointing to the diagram in the book, his eyes gleaming with dark circles.

Although Song Tingting doesn't understand architecture.

But he's good at math, and after helping him calculate a few times, he couldn't help but exclaim:

"Zhou Fang, if you could take the college entrance exam, you might actually get into Tsinghua University."

Zhou Fang grinned, revealing a set of white teeth, his eyes full of wildness: "It's okay if I don't get in. In the future, Tsinghua University graduates will still have to work for me."

A wildly confident arrogance.

……

Time flies, and winter has arrived in the blink of an eye.

Song Xianglan's savings account had grown even thicker.

But the atmosphere was a little off.

Yan Ergou is dead.

But the trouble he caused outside was not over.

I heard that there are always a few unfamiliar faces loitering around the entrance of Yanjiazhuang Village, their eyes constantly glancing towards the old Yan family house.

Some people even saw them wandering around the back mountain, poking at the ground with strange iron rods in their hands.

Rumors are circulating in the village that Yan Ergou hasn't returned all the stolen goods.

There's also a batch of gold, silver, and valuables buried in some rat hole.

This rumor has been circulating ever since.

As a result, Yan's unfortunate relatives were also targeted.

Yan Shugen has been frequently visiting Song Xianglan lately.

He wasn't idle either; he found a corner on Zhou Fang's construction site and quietly carved something.

Those hands were as rough as tree bark, yet they held the carving knife with terrifying steadiness.

After arranging the old tables, chairs, and cabinets in Song Xianglan's house, he added lifelike flowers, birds, fish, and insects to them.

The original earthy solid wood instantly exudes an air of elegance.

"This skill is absolutely amazing."

Song Xianglan touched the unicorn pattern on the corner of the table. "Shugen, you should help Zhou Fang with the work at the construction site. When your master comes back, settle down and learn from him. Your speed is better than others' skills that have been developed over several years."

Yan Shugen stopped cutting and blew away the sawdust.

His face remained expressionless: "Third Aunt. My master said I have talent. I just want to save money for my mother."

When Nie Erhua is mentioned...

Yan Shugen's eyes darkened.

"My mom has been having nightmares lately and talking nonsense. Sometimes she wakes up and cries. It seems like she's... remembering things from the past."

Song Xianglan's heart tightened.

That memory was hell for her.

If you try to recall it, it's not being lucid; it's being tortured.

"Thinking about it might not be a good thing."

Song Xianglan sighed, "Sometimes, being a little oblivious is actually a way to survive. You and your older sister should visit your mother often, and don't let Lanlan get close to her."

Yan Shugen nodded.

……

Song Xianglan, who hadn't received a call from Song Xiangdong in a long time, went to the brigade's supply and marketing cooperative's sales point again that day. Shen Xiangdong called back.

Song Xianglan ran over and waited for more than ten minutes before the phone rang again.

Song Xianglan answered the phone: "Feed?"

"Mom, it's me."

Song Xiangdong's voice came through the receiver, sounding somewhat distorted through the long telephone line, and also mixed with crackling static.

"He's heading east." Song Xianglan felt a little more at ease. "Why did you suddenly call back?"

"Huijun... Huijun is here."

Song Xianglan was taken aback:

"Winter break hasn't even started yet, why did this girl go there?"

On the other end of the phone, Song Xiangdong's voice was very low, "She had nightmares. She had them for several days in a row, dreaming that I was covered in blood. She was terrified, took leave from work, and took the train overnight to come see me. Mom, she's like a child who hasn't grown up."

He said he was stupid.

The heartache in his voice was unmistakable.

Song Xianglan's hand gripping the microphone tightened suddenly, her knuckles turning white.

Nightmare?

This is not a nightmare, but a warning sign of the bond between husband and wife and the connection between lovers.

She calculated the days.

almost.

That restless monkey country has been jumping around on the border lately.

Another month.

The shocking attack that would scare the nation was about to happen.

In her past life, at this time, she was still working as a blood bank for the Yang family and had no idea what was happening outside.

It wasn't until later, when the radio kept broadcasting "self-defense counterattack," that she learned Song Xiangdong had gone to the front lines.

Song Xiangdong never returned.

"Eastward." Song Xianglan's voice turned serious, unlike her usual casual conversation.

"Hey, Mom, I'm here."

"Listen to me." Song Xianglan took a deep breath. Even if she might be overheard, she had to say these words. "Huijun is worried about you, and it's also a warning from God."

Song Xiangdong paused for a moment on the other end:

"Mom, you still believe in this?"

"I believe you," Song Xianglan interrupted him. "Are you going to make a move?"

There was only the sound of breathing on the other end of the phone.

After a few seconds, Song Xiangdong whispered:

"I've heard rumors that they might be moving people to the southwest. Mom, I might not be able to call you then, so please take care of yourself."

This means we're heading to the front lines.

Song Xianglan's tears streamed down her face instantly.

But her voice didn't tremble.

"Xiangdong, remember this. I haven't read many books, but I know one saying: 'Those who are not of our kind will surely have different hearts.'"

Song Xianglan held the microphone tightly to her face, each word seemingly squeezed out from between her teeth:

"If a fight really breaks out, it'll be a matter of life and death. Don't try to be kind to me."

"Mom?" Song Xiangdong seemed startled by Song Xianglan's sudden harsh words.

"Especially the elderly, the weak, women, and children." Song Xianglan raised her voice, almost growling, "On the battlefield, there are no old people, children, women, or pregnant women, only enemies. Those who aren't carrying guns might be hiding grenades under their clothes..."

There was a deathly silence on the other end of the phone.

Song Xiangdong held the microphone.

I broke out in a cold sweat.

His mother is an old woman from the countryside. Apart from being a bit shrewish, she is very kind-hearted.

But what you're saying today sounds so creepy?

Moreover... she was too specific.

The mountains and forests are filled with miasma, mosquitoes, and enemies that look like the elderly, weak, women, and children.

It was as if she had seen it with her own eyes.

"Xiang Dong, did you hear me?" Song Xianglan shouted anxiously when she didn't hear a response.

"I heard you." Song Xiangdong instinctively stood at attention. "Mom, I remember. I'll definitely take precautions."

"Since Huijun has gone, let her stay a couple more days. With her there, you'll feel more at ease." Song Xianglan's tone softened, but it still sounded weary. "Come back alive."

Song Xiangdong's eyes welled up with tears, and his throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

"Mom, don't worry. I will definitely come back safe and sound to kowtow to you."

After hanging up the phone, Song Xianglan leaned against the wall, unable to recover for a long time.

The calendar on the wall displays the date.

That bloody day is drawing ever closer.

She remembered that medicine was also a major problem; she had several savings accounts saved up. It was time to do something for her son, for his comrades, and for the countless mothers, wives, and children waiting for them to come home.