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

Zhou Fang was efficient and handled the warehouse accounts with Zhang Qin. He then immediately contacted the trucks heading to the train station to load the goods.

Song Xiangdong, carrying a travel bag and a large bag full of food, waved to Song Xianglan and Shen Huijun before getting into the car with Zhou Fang.

A plume of black smoke billowed from the rear of the car.

They sputtered and drove off into the distance.

Song Xianglan stood at the intersection until the car was out of sight before she looked away.

With Xiang Dong gone, the courtyard suddenly felt much quieter.

She turned and walked back, pondering the matter of the warehouse.

Xiaoye and her brother are still children, and it's not safe for them to keep watch at night.

The Yang family are all like mad dogs; they might pounce and bite you at any moment.

In addition, she has made quite a few enemies, so she is wary of anyone coming to the workshop to cause trouble.

We need to find two reliable people to keep an eye on things.

I just arrived at my doorstep.

They saw Yang Damu standing at the base of the wall, his neck hunched, holding a dripping basket in his hand, his trousers rolled up to his knees, and his calves covered in mud and sand.

"Aunt Song." Yang Damu saw Song Xianglan and handed her the snakeskin bag forward. "I went to the beach to collect oysters today. This bag contains peanuts for Brother Xiangdong to try."

Song Xianglan glanced into the bag; the red-skinned peanuts were plump and full. "They're heading east to the capital."

Yang Damu's eyes showed some disappointment, and he muttered to himself:

"That's a pity, Brother Xiangdong loves boiled peanuts the most."

"Why did you suddenly decide to send peanuts to Xiang Dong?" Song Xianglan asked, somewhat puzzled, as she took the bag.

Yang Damu scratched his messy hair, his face flushed.

"About two weeks ago at the beach, my brother was robbed of his fishing by those thugs. They called my brother a mute and even beat him up."

Xiang Dong was passing by when he rushed over without saying a word, pushed those people aside, and even snatched the fish and shrimp back. If it weren't for Xiang Dong, my brother would have been badly beaten that day.

Song Xianglan and Shen Huijun, who were hanging clothes to dry in the yard, exchanged a glance, neither of them surprised.

Xiang Dong wasn't thinking clearly at the time, but he didn't lose his sense of justice.

"Since you've brought them, don't leave." Song Xianglan carried the peanuts towards the kitchen. "I'd like to have some peanut soup, so you can stay and have a bowl too."

"No, no, no, Auntie, I'm going back..." Yang Damu waved his hands repeatedly, trying to slip away.

"Stop!" Song Xianglan turned around and glared at him. "Go and call your brother too. There are too many peanuts for Tingting, Huijun, and me to finish."

Yang Damu was stunned by the shout and stood there scratching his head.

Finally, he grinned and said, "Okay. I'll go call my brother."

After saying that, he took off running, his bare feet stomping on the ground with a loud thud. The calluses on the soles of his feet were so thick that they probably wouldn't hurt even if nails were stuck in them.

Song Xianglan carried the peanuts into the kitchen.

He poked open the coal stove and replaced it with a new coal briquette.

I poured the peanuts into a bowl, then poured boiling water over them and let them sit for ten minutes to peel. Then I went to the corner and grabbed a large taro.

Yang Damu ran fast and soon returned with a tall, thin man.

Yang Damu and the mute brother looked quite alike; both were dark-skinned and thin, their clothes patched upon patched, their trousers too short, and their exposed ankles looked like thin reeds.

The mute man bowed to Song Xianglan as soon as he entered the door.

It made noises and gestures indicating its name.

Yang Damu translated from the side, "My brother said thank you, Auntie, Xiang Dong is a very good person."

"Alright, don't be shy." Song Xianglan pointed to the taro on the ground. "Da Mu, peel the taro."

Without saying a word, Yang Damu squatted down, picked up a kitchen knife, and began peeling the skin.

The mute man wanted to help, but Song Xianglan stopped him: "You just wait to eat. Making peanut soup takes several hours."

Just then, a head popped out from the second-floor balcony.

Holding a ballpoint pen, Song Tingting called down, "Mom, what delicious food are you making? It smells so good!"

"It smells good even before it's cooked? Even a dog's nose isn't as sharp as yours." Song Xianglan laughed and scolded, "Make peanut soup."

"Peanut soup?"

Song Tingting's eyes lit up. She threw down her pen and ran downstairs. "Mom, just drinking soup isn't satisfying. It would be amazing with fried dough sticks and water chestnuts!"

"Go buy it yourself if you want some." Song Xianglan was rubbing peanut skins without looking up. "I don't have time to fry dough sticks for you."

"Yes, ma'am," Song Tingting turned to push her bicycle. "Mom, give me the money."

"Pay for it yourself." Song Xianglan tossed the peeled peanuts into the stainless steel pot. "You have more pocket money in your savings account than I do, and you're trying to cheat me?"

Song Tingting stuck out her tongue.

With a silvery laugh, she hopped on her bike and sped out of the courtyard.

The kitchen was steaming hot.

Song Xianglan boiled peanuts in water until they were soft and tender. She then took out half of the peanuts and crushed them with a rolling pin. She also mashed half of the steamed taro into a paste and left the other half in small pieces in a bowl for later use.

Pour the peanut paste and taro paste into a pot and cook together.

Sprinkle a generous amount of white sugar on top, and the sweet and sticky aroma will instantly fill the yard.

While the soup was simmering, Song Xianglan looked the two brothers up and down.

Yang Damu is clever, and the mute is honest and strong. Most importantly, these two children are grateful for kindness.

"Big Eyes," Song Xianglan wiped her hands, "Do you want to make money?"

Yang Damu was squatting on the ground staring at the flames when he heard this. He looked up and sighed.

"Auntie, it's not true that I don't want to make money. My brother and I dream of fixing up our house; it leaks so badly we can't sleep. Our stone house was left to us by my great-grandmother."

Song Xianglan: "My workshop is short-staffed to watch the warehouse. You two brothers can move in there; it's a small hut next to the warehouse."

During the day, your brother can go fishing, but at night you two must stay in the warehouse. You'll get five yuan a month, which will cover three meals a day.

pat.

Yang Damu dropped the fire tongs in his hand to the ground.

The mute man's eyes widened, and his mouth opened so wide it could fit an egg.

"Five...five yuan?" Yang Damu stammered, his throat seemingly blocked. "Auntie, that's too much. You can provide food and lodging; you don't need to pay!"

These days, even if a strong laborer works himself to death in the production team, the annual dividend would only be a few dozen yuan.

Five yuan a month is a huge sum of money for them.

"That's your salary, you have to pay it." Song Xianglan's tone left no room for argument. "You have to learn to read from Xiaozhi. When the workshop grows bigger in the future, you can't do without being literate."

Yang Damu's eyes immediately reddened.

After holding it in for a while, he suddenly straightened his back and began to recite aloud:

"...Mother Deng threaded the needle again, her right hand holding it slightly higher, while her left hand skillfully tied a knot. How meticulous she was..."

His voice was clear and crisp, his pronunciation was perfect, and he even remembered the pauses in the text perfectly.

Song Xianglan was somewhat surprised:

"You can recite this? I bet you threw that backpack away ages ago!"

"I didn't throw it away!" Yang Damu wiped his eyes. "I squatted under the school window every day to listen. I could memorize what the teacher said after just one lesson. I wanted to study, and I wanted to live a good life with my brother."

Song Xianglan's heart softened; this child was resilient.

"Alright, based on this passage, this task is yours."

Although the mute man couldn't hear, he could tell from his brother's excited expression that it was a good thing.

Yang Damu gestured to him, and the mute man's face trembled with excitement. Suddenly, he turned around, grabbed a carrying pole from the corner of the wall, and ran to the backyard.

"Hey. Where are you going?" Song Xianglan called out.

"My brother said he's going to collect manure." Yang Damu sniffed and laughed. "He said he can't just take the money for nothing; he has to clean Auntie's outhouse thoroughly and sweep the whole yard."

There was no stopping him. The mute man's enthusiasm was inexhaustible.

In no time, the backyard was swept clean, and even the weeds in the corners were pulled out.

He also carried the sewage from the latrine to the composting pit designated by the brigade headquarters and dumped it there.

Shen Huijun then came downstairs with two sets of altered clothes. They were Song Xiangdong's old clothes, faded from washing, but without patches and made of thick fabric.

"Da Mu, let you two brothers try on these clothes." Shen Huijun handed over the clothes. "Xiang Dong is tall, so I altered them. They should fit you perfectly."

Yang Damu touched the thick fabric, his hands trembling.

He and his brother had never worn such nice clothes before, not even old ones.

"Here you go." Song Xianglan lifted the pot lid, and a rich aroma of peanuts and taro wafted out. "Don't wear clothes that are patched upon patched."

Song Tingting returned carrying a large bag of fried dough sticks and water chestnuts.

He rushed into the kitchen in a flurry of activity.

"It smells so good! It's making my mouth water."

Several people sat around a small table in the courtyard.

Each person has a large bowl of thick peanut soup in front of them. The milky white soup is filled with soft peanuts, taro chunks, and egg drop soup. One sip and you'll feel sweet to the core.

Then soak the golden and crispy fried dough sticks in the soup.

That feeling is something even a god wouldn't trade.

The mute man held the bowl, drinking very carefully, holding each sip in his mouth for a long time before swallowing it.

Song Tingting took a bite of the fried water chestnut and suddenly sighed:

"I saw my classmate from the first year of junior high school while buying fried dough sticks at the commune."

"Who is it?" Song Xianglan asked casually.

"Zhang Erya." Song Tingting put down her spoon, her expression somewhat complicated. "She had a child on her back, a child in her arms, and another one in her belly."

Her hair was a mess, like a bird's nest, and her face was as yellow as gold paper.

She's only eighteen, but she looks more than ten years older than me. She used to be a very good student; if her family had let her continue her studies, she definitely could have gotten into high school. Even if she didn't go to high school, graduating from a vocational school would have been great.

The courtyard was quiet for a moment.