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

Song Dongtian got up before dawn.

He parked the tricycle in the yard and carried everything upstairs: cigarettes, alcohol, fish maw, and several cans of factory-made goods.

It was all a list compiled by Song Xianglan.

Nothing is missing.

Shen Huijun cooked a pot of sweet potato porridge early in the morning, along with omelets with preserved radish, braised pork belly with pickled cucumber, and stir-fried clams.

When Song Xianglan came out of the house, the bowls and chopsticks were already set out.

Song Dong had already eaten a bowl of porridge. "Third Aunt, have some breakfast."

Song Xianglan sat down and picked up her chopsticks to eat.

"We'll go to Lai Fengshou's house first, then we have four more houses to visit. Park your car further away, don't park in front of people's houses."

"Know."

Song Xianglan took out five cowhide envelopes from her pocket.

She checked the thickness of each one to make sure it was correct before putting it into her bag.

The two finished their porridge.

Song Xianglan gave Shen Huijun a suggestion, telling her to take some things to Liu Dahua and Widow Wang's house.

Too many people are giving gifts at the end of the year.

Song Xianglan had no choice but to send some of them away.

Song Dong pedaled the tricycle, with Song Xianglan sitting behind him, holding a cloth bag in her arms.

The wind blowing in from the sea on winter mornings is so cold it hurts your face.

Song Xianglan wrapped her cotton-padded coat tighter and squinted at the fields by the roadside.

Upon arriving in Qingyang, Song Dong parked his tricycle at the entrance of the alley.

Song Xianglan brought down the gifts she wanted to give away.

Lai Fengshou's house is in an old alley, and there is a longan tree planted in front of his door.

Song Xianglan knocked on the door.

When Lai Fengshou's wife opened the door and saw it was her, a smile immediately spread across her face.

"Oh, Auntie's here. Come in, come in quickly."

Song Xianglan visits twice a year, during the Mid-Autumn Festival and the Spring Festival. The Lai family also sends a large red envelope when they have happy occasions.

She turned and called out inside, "Lili, quickly make some tea. Your Grandma Song is here."

Lai Fengshou's daughter peeked out from the kitchen.

He answered and went to boil water.

Song Xianglan placed the items next to the coffee table in the living room.

"It's almost the end of the year, so I came to visit you all."

Lai Fengshou's wife pulled her hand and pressed her onto the sofa. "Auntie, you're busy during the New Year, so don't come."

It's so cold on such a long road. Our two families are so close, I feel bad that you've gone to so much trouble.

I told Fengshou that we were able to buy a house these past two years thanks to my aunt.

He also said we didn't need to buy a house, but then I thought, when our children get married, we can't all live together.

"It's not far, it's just on my way." Song Xianglan took out a red envelope from her bag and handed it over. "It's a small token of my appreciation, to buy some new clothes for the children for the New Year."

"You made the right decision to buy a house; I believe house prices will inevitably rise in the future."

Lai Fengshou's wife accepted the envelope with both hands, smiling and saying no, no, but her fingers had already unconsciously squeezed the thickness of the envelope.

Her smile deepened, and she quickly stood up.

"I'll put it inside first."

He took the envelope into the bedroom, closed the door, opened it, and found a stack of brand-new ten-yuan notes inside.

She counted them, and her palms were sweaty.

This Aunt Song is really generous.

Since getting involved with Lai Fengshou, Song Xianglan has had no trouble getting goods at rock-bottom prices from customs.

Speaking of which, I have to thank that kid Song Qiang. His relationships with women are a complete mess, yet he still thinks about his son every day.

Building connections and cultivating relationships is top-notch.

He got involved with Lai Fengshou and helped her establish this connection.

Lai Fengshou's wife came out of the bedroom, feeling lightheaded.

She brought the tea over and personally poured Song Xianglan a cup.

"Auntie, I have something to tell you. My husband, Fengshou, is being transferred to the new city after the New Year."

Song Xianglan paused for a moment while holding her teacup.

"Transfer to the new city? Promotion."

"Yes. The higher-ups said it's a lateral transfer. They're short-staffed in the new city, but the old leader said that going there would be a rank higher than here. It's easier to achieve results in the new city, and they say promotions will be faster there."

"That's great news. Congratulations!" Song Xianglan nodded with a smile.

Lai Fengshou's wife moved forward a little.

"Auntie, after Feng Shou leaves, he will make sure things are settled with Qing Yang. He will also make arrangements for who will take over, so don't worry."

"With this promise in mind, I can rest assured."

Song Xianglan said she was not worried, but her mind was already racing.

Lai Fengshou was transferred to Xincheng.

Xiang Dong became the deputy mayor of Xincheng.

Song Xianglan took a sip of her tea; the gray area of ​​Xincheng was one she couldn't touch.

Song Xiangdong distinguishes between public and private matters; he is capable of both what he says and what he does.

If they really did these things on his turf, he would show absolutely no mercy.

Even your own mother won't do.

Song Xianglan knew the gravity of the matter; some things had to be kept away from her son's location.

You have to go around him.

Song Xianglan put down her teacup. "If he works hard in the new city, he'll have a bright future."

Lai Fengshou's wife was even happier when she heard this.

"Auntie, you have such a lovely voice."

Song Xianglan sat for a while longer, and then Lai Fengshou's wife told her son to go out and find Lai Fengshou to bring him back.

Song Xianglan waved her hand and stood up.

"My eldest nephew is still waiting outside. He said he's going to buy New Year's gifts. There are a lot of things to do at home at the end of the year. My godson is getting married after the New Year, and there are also a lot of things to do at my wife's family."

Lai Fengshou's wife personally escorted Song Xianglan to the alley entrance and watched her get on the tricycle before returning home.

Song Dong pedaled his tricycle and turned into the next street.

"Third Aunt, where's the next place?"

"Head south. Old Chen's house."

We went from house to house.

After leaving Old Chen's house, we went to Old Liu's house on East Street, and then turned to Zheng's house at the north end.

Finally, there's the Gong family.

Every time I went in, it was the same routine—giving a gift, handing over an envelope, drinking tea, exchanging a few polite words, and then leaving briskly.

Song Xianglan never lingered at other people's homes.

Once the delivery is complete, that's enough; as long as the relationship is maintained, that's fine.

When Song Xianglan came out of the fourth house, she had an extra piece of paper in her hand.

A name and address were written on it.

Hou Liangkun.

Old Liu secretly told her that this person had connections and could get motorcycles.

They import Honda, Suzuki, and Kawasaki from Japan.

But this man had incredibly bad luck; he offended the wrong people, and every time his goods were intercepted before they even reached the shore.

After a year of struggling, I'm almost broke.

Song Xianglan glanced at the address; it was a secluded alley at the west end of the county town.

"Song Dong, go to West Street."

The tricycle made a turn.

to the place.

Song Xianglan told Song Dong to wait outside, and then she carried her cloth bag into the alley.

The alley was narrow and dark, with moss growing on the walls on both sides.

At the end of the road, a wooden door with peeling paint was half-open.

Song Xianglan knocked three times.

No one answered.

She knocked three more times and gave a name.

There was a rustling sound from inside the door, and the door was pulled open a crack.

A young face peeked out from the crack in the door. He looked to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, with a stubble on his chin, sunken eyes, and wrinkled clothes.

Who are you looking for?

"Hou Liangkun?"

Who are you?

Song Xianglan gave a name, "He's the one who introduced me."

Hou Liangkun was taken aback for a moment, then looked her up and down.

Only then did he open the door and let her in.

The house was rented and was a mess.

There was a half-eaten bowl of noodles on the table, with chopsticks resting on the rim. Cigarette ash and quite a few cigarette butts were in the bowl.

There were several snakeskin bags piled up in the corner, but it was unclear what they contained.

Song Xianglan looked around but didn't find a chair to sit down.

Speaking while standing:

"I heard you can get your hands on motorcycles."

Hou Liangkun leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"It's possible to do it. But even if we did, we wouldn't be able to get it back."

"If you can't get them back, it's because you're incompetent; the problem lies in the channels you haven't established."

"Someone was watching me. The goods hadn't even landed yet when they showed up. I lost three shipments, not a single one came to me." Hou Liangkun said, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. "You tell me, my luck is pretty bad."

Song Xianglan looked at him.

"Who did you offend?"

Hou Liangkun remained silent for a few seconds.

"I don't know. I went to the Chaozhou market to buy goods last year, and when I came back, I found something was wrong. Every time I go out to sea, there are leaks from there."

You've been set up.

Hou Liangkun didn't reply, but his expression changed.

He is not satisfied.

Song Xianglan took a step forward. "I can mediate with the people you've offended. But there's one thing about your goods: sell 90% of it to me after it arrives at the port."

Hou Liangkun suddenly looked up. "Ninety percent?"

"Ninety percent."

"Then what am I busy with?"

"You're short-sighted. No wonder you almost starved to death despite having a golden rice bowl."

Song Xianglan held up one finger, "I get 90% of every batch of goods, and I also give them enough profit."

I'll pave the way for you, and I'll help you settle the scores with the people you've offended—all of this will cost money.

Besides, when I buy your goods, I'm also helping you make money. You can operate on a low-profit, high-volume model. Once the goods arrive, you'll be selling them wholesale anyway, and the remaining 10% will be enough for you to resell in retail.

"Think about it."

Hou Liangkun stared at her for a long time.

"Do you really have such extraordinary connections?"

"I've been in this business for years," Song Xianglan said, hands on her hips, a smug look on her face. "Your path was blocked, so I'll clear it for you. But you have to do as I say. Otherwise, no matter how much cargo you have, it'll all end up at the bottom of the sea."

"I don't believe your connections can keep not making this money. If they eventually dump you and find someone else, you won't even get a drop of soup."

Hou Liangkun's Adam's apple bobbed.

The little old lady stood in front of him, wearing a gray cotton-padded jacket.

His words were even more forceful than those of the big bosses he had ever met.

"There's no charity in this line of work," Song Xianglan said, looking at him. "I didn't mean to take 90% of your money. It's just that I have relationships with people above and below me that I need to manage."

"If I don't sell more stock to maintain these multiple production lines, I won't even be able to keep up with the relationships. You won't lose money if you follow me."

Hou Liangkun had both hands in his pockets.

"I lost a fortune last year," he said in a muffled voice. "All three shipments went down the drain. I haven't dared to go home yet. My family doesn't know my situation."

He looked up, and the corner of his mouth twitched again.

"To be honest, I still don't know how I offended anyone."

The debt collectors are probably surrounding his house, and he feels guilty towards his family.

Song Xianglan didn't respond to his question.

She took an envelope out of her cloth bag and handed it to her.

"Take the money home for the New Year first, and don't let those who follow you suffer losses. You also need to pay back the debts owed to you by your creditors."

Hou Liangkun took it.

He counted it; it was two thousand yuan.

He looked up at Song Xianglan, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

"Auntie, you're willing to give me the money after just one meeting?"

"Hmm." Song Xianglan zipped up the cloth bag. "I believe you won't give up. The fact that someone who's been beaten down and still hasn't run away shows they want to make a comeback."

Hou Liangkun gripped the envelope tightly, his fingers clenching.

"Take these home for the New Year." Song Xianglan turned and walked out, stopping at the door. "After the New Year, hurry up and get a batch of motorcycles over. Take advantage of the spring weather and transport them to other places to make a fortune."