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

The green train rattled and swayed for three days.

Finally, it came to a stop at Beijing Railway Station.

The train carriage was packed with people, and luggage rolls were bumping against heads.

Song Xianglan sat on the lower bunk without moving until the aisle was empty before standing up.

The man in the opposite bunk was dressed in a crisp military uniform, and he hooked one hand around Song Xianglan's two heavy snakeskin bags.

With her other hand, she pulled out the basket that she had placed to the side.

"Auntie, let me help you with that," Comrade Zhao said.

Song Xianglan didn't stand on ceremony with him; their friendship from the journey speaks for itself.

She was happy to have some free time. "Thank you."

The two walked out of the station exit one after the other.

A green jeep stopped at the edge of the square. A young soldier ran over quickly, saluted Comrade Zhao, and took the luggage from his hands.

"Auntie, where are you going?" Comrade Zhao turned around. "It's hard to get a ride right now, I'll take you there."

Song Xianglan gave the shop address that Song Tingting had left in her letter.

The jeep drove smoothly, and through the window, I could see the wide main road outside, with rows of bicycles and gray-brick and red-tiled buildings flashing by.

This is Beijing.

At the foot of the imperial city, the buildings are grand and square.

The car turned onto a bustling street and stopped in front of a shop that was under construction.

Through the car window, Song Xianglan caught a glimpse of the figure standing in the dust.

Song Tingting, with her hair in a ponytail and wearing a slightly worn white shirt, was gesturing with a tape measure to a sweaty construction foreman.

Song Xianglan opened the car door and called out:

"Tingting."

Song Tingting was startled, turned around and rushed over, grabbing Song Xianglan's arm.

"Mom, why did you arrive today? I even took the day off to pick you up from the train station tomorrow, I was worried you might get lost."

"I came early because I was afraid it would affect your studies." Song Xianglan patted her daughter's back. "Thanks to Comrade Zhao for bringing me here."

Song Tingting quickly thanked Comrade Zhao.

Comrade Zhao and the young soldier unloaded the burlap sack and two baskets of fruit from the vehicle.

Song Xianglan pulled back the cloth covering the basket, quickly took out three or four catties of longan, four bright red dragon fruits, and a large handful of bananas, and put them directly on the back seat.

"Comrade Zhao, thank you so much for taking care of me along the way. Take these southern fruits back with you so your family can enjoy them."

Judging from the young soldier who picked him up in the car, Comrade Zhao must be a second or third-generation military family member.

They come from a well-off family.

Comrade Zhao waved his hands repeatedly, "Auntie, this won't do. We have rules; we can't take things from the people."

Song Xianglan glared at him and raised her voice, "The moment I see you, it's like seeing my own son. My son was actually your comrade-in-arms."

His comrades-in-arms would send me cured pork and sausages from Sichuan Province during holidays, and I would send them dried seafood. The camaraderie is different; you're like my own children.

Upon hearing the words "Southwest Front," Comrade Zhao stopped moving and became solemn.

He did not refuse again.

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll come and support you again when your clothing store opens."

"They're all women's clothing. I'll buy a few outfits for your boyfriend later," Song Tingting said with a smile.

Comrade Zhao got on the bus.

The jeep emitted a puff of blue smoke as it merged into the street.

The jeep drove by and made quite a commotion.

The owners of several nearby shops all poked their heads out to look this way.

Being picked up and dropped off in a Jeep, that's quite a status symbol.

Song Xianglan grabbed a handful of longans and broke off a few bananas, then walked over to the shopkeepers watching the commotion.

"Dear neighbors and business owners, I'm Song Tingting's mother. This is a local specialty from our hometown. Please try it."

There is a stationery store on the left.

The proprietress took the longan, her eyes shining.

"Oh my, ma'am, these fruits are really rare. You've chosen a great location for your shop; this street has the highest foot traffic in the whole area."

Song Xianglan scanned the area; to the left were stationery stores, yarn stores, and hardware stores, and to the right were cloth shoe stores, noodle shops, and general stores.

Across the street are two clothing stores selling clothing directly from local factories.

A solid golden center position.

"My daughter goes to school every day." Song Xianglan handed a banana to the chubby owner of the noodle shop on the right. "If anything happens to this shop in the future, I'll have to rely on you all to keep an eye on things."

"What school?"

"Kyoto University."

The shop owners immediately became polite and readily agreed.

In this era, college students are the pride of heaven.

They exchanged a few polite words.

Song Tingting pulled Song Xianglan toward the alley behind the shop.

The foreman was a kind-hearted man; he hoisted the load onto his shoulder and followed behind.

"Mom, I rented a room in this alley for five yuan a month. The only problem is that I have to go to the public toilet at the entrance of the alley to use the toilet."

The alleyways are winding and meandering.

Stepping into the threshold of a large courtyard.

Six or seven families were crammed into the courtyard, with various broken bicycles and rotten water tanks piled up in the corner.

A clothesline was strung up in the yard.

Each family built a kitchen outside.

Song Tingting rented a room in the east wing. It was a living room of a little over ten square meters connected to a small bedroom of about ten square meters, and a two-square-meter tarpaulin shed outside served as a kitchen.

Several middle-aged women were sitting in the courtyard, basking in the sun.

These past few days, they've been subtly trying to find out more about Song Tingting.

Song Tingting's mouth was as tight as a clam shell, and nothing leaked out.

Upon seeing Song Xianglan enter with large and small bags, several old ladies' eyes immediately lit up, and they crowded around her, fanning themselves with palm-leaf fans.

"Hey girl, where are you from? With all these bags, are you planning to stay?"

Song Xianglan put down her bundle and continued the conversation, "I won't be staying here long; I'll have to go back to my hometown soon."

My daughter is a student at Peking University and usually attends classes there. However, to help supplement our family income, she and a friend opened a clothing store here.

"I will need your continued support and care from all my neighbors in the future."

"Oh my, a student from Peking University!" A middle-aged woman in a floral-patterned long gown was sewing shoe soles. "This is practically a reincarnation of the God of Literature! Do you have anyone else in your family?"

"I have a son." Song Xianglan brushed the dust off her trousers. "He used to be a soldier, but he got injured and went back to his hometown."

The elderly women exchanged glances.

After being discharged from the army, I didn't have a formal job.

That's just being a loser.

The most successful person in this courtyard is the grandson of Old Li from the front yard. He got into a vocational school and now works as a clerk in the neighborhood office. Everyone in the courtyard has to curry favor with him.

"So, young lady, what kind of business do you do back in your hometown?" the woman in the floral coat continued to inquire.

Song Xianglan straightened up and said in a loud voice, "This year my family was allocated several acres of land. Before I retired, I worked at the commune's slaughterhouse, butchering pigs."

The courtyard fell silent instantly.

Several old women gaped, their palm-leaf fans frozen in mid-air.

"I started learning to scrape pig bristles and gut pigs when I was around ten years old. After five or six years, I started directly cutting and bleeding them." Song Xianglan's gaze swept over the necks of the men. "A wild boar weighing several hundred pounds, one cut and it's gone."

Several middle-aged women involuntarily took a half step back and swallowed.

Who would dare to mess with them?

Song Tingting listened with amusement from inside the house and took out a basin to fill with water.

Song Xianglan took a few bananas out of the basket and came out.

I overheard some neighbors whispering about it.

Bananas at the Beijing Municipal Supply and Marketing Cooperative are selling for 2.3 yuan per jin (0.5 kg).

She recalled that after a few years, as transportation and preservation methods changed, the price of bananas gradually decreased.

Longan and dragon fruit have always been characterized by low quantity and high price.

Song Xianglan distributed the bananas to the stunned middle-aged women. "Try them. They're freshly picked bananas from our hometown."

The group was flattered and thanked him repeatedly, holding the bananas.

Song Xianglan did not take longan or dragon fruit, as these are high-priced and sought-after goods.

She turned around and pulled out more than a dozen dried mackerel from the snakeskin bag, distributing them to each household.

"For the kids at home to snack on."

The middle-aged women were all smiles and quickly introduced themselves to each other.

After distributing the items.

Song Tingting crawled out of the shed outside, holding fire tongs.

"Aunt Wu, I'd like to exchange you for a piece of coal to start a fire."

Aunt Wu from next door had just received some dried fish, her face beaming. She picked up a red-hot coal briquette and then casually added a burnt-out coal briquette to Song Tingting's stove.

"Tingting, just let me know if you need anything in the future. Your mother must be tired from the journey, let her come inside and rest."

Song Tingting agreed and handed the water to Song Xianglan.

"Mom, wash your face and get some sleep. I've put water on the stove, I'll cook dinner in a bit."

Song Xianglan stood under the tap and washed her face.

He went back inside and picked up the small round mirror from the dresser to look at himself.

The face in the mirror was ashen, with dark circles under the eyes.

It looks like an old demon that has just been unearthed.

"I'm not eating." Song Xianglan dried her hair, took off her coat, and lay straight on the bed. "Tingting, don't call me even if the sky falls. Let me sleep soundly."

As soon as her head hit the pillow, Song Xianglan started snoring.

I slept soundly for days.

When I opened my eyes again, it was already bright outside.

Sunlight streamed obliquely into the room through the cracks in the window.

Song Xianglan sat up abruptly, her bones cracking and popping.

Pushing open the door, I saw newly bought meat buns, golden-fried dough sticks, and a dish of pickles on the table.

A pot of sweet potato porridge, simmering with rice oil, was warming on the stove.

Song Tingting came out of the shed with a bowl in her hand and a smile on her face. "Mom, wash your face and eat."

Seeing Song Xianglan in Beijing gave her a feeling of returning to high school.

She sees her mother every day when she comes home.

Song Tingting felt an indescribable happiness, which she kept hidden in her heart. She served Song Xianglan a bowl of sweet potato porridge. "Mom," she said, "Chen Zui is also in Beijing. He's staying at a hotel catering to foreigners. That guy goes to the hutongs and antique markets every day."

"Looking to buy antiques?"

"He bought a lot of furniture. He would rather buy something more expensive than something particularly cheap. Luckily, I learned some things from my classmates before, and sometimes I bring my classmates to help him take a look." Song Tingting sat on the chair, took a fried dough stick and cut it in half.

She has always liked oily foods.