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

Two onlookers immediately gathered around.

"Boss, I want a Yamaha. How much is the deposit?"

"I'll order a Suzuki. I'll pay now."

"No rush, limited quantity. VIPs who have paid in advance will definitely have a car."

Liu Yukun was busy collecting money and issuing invoices.

Song Dong retreated to the back room, picked up the phone, and dialed Huang Ronghua's number.

"Ronghua, put up a sign in your shop that says 'Pre-sale of imported motorcycles'," Song Dong shouted into the microphone.

"What pre-sale? People are paying without even seeing the car? This is a big-ticket item." Huang Ronghua's voice was loud.

"There are plenty of wealthy people in Haishi. We've already received several deposits over here. The price will be increased by ten percent from the suggested price."

"Can you still sell it even with a 10% commission?" Huang Ronghua didn't believe it.

Do the wealthy people in Shanghai not value money?

"When has my aunt's arrangement ever gone wrong? Just do as she says." Song Dong hung up the phone after saying that. "Those stock market investors earn the equivalent of a house a day, buying a motorcycle is nothing to them."

"Okay, I'll give it a try. Hopefully no one will beat me up," Huang Ronghua joked.

Closed in the afternoon.

Liu Yukun pulled down the roller shutter on the door and locked it.

He walked up to Song Dong carrying a bulging canvas bag.

The zipper is unzipped.

It was full of bundles of banknotes.

"This is the pre-sale money for this afternoon." Liu Yukun shoved the bag into Song Dong's hand. "I've taken the sign off. If I keep doing that, we won't have any cars to give to customers and we'll get sued. You'd better buy a ticket back to Qingyang right away."

Song Dong weighed the bag in his hand.

"So much money."

"There are more rich people in Haishi than poor people in Qingyang." Liu Yukun walked to the sink to wash his hands. "My godmother bought several trucks this year, and I heard she's going to buy a tractor-trailer too. She's emptied her pockets. Take this money back with her to help her out in an emergency."

"I'll take the revenue back with me as well."

He stuffed the canvas bag into the bottom of a tattered burlap sack.

I went to the market and bought a big bag of rotten dried salted fish, and piled it all on top.

Song Dong asked someone to buy him a train ticket.

He then went to Huang Ronghua's place and put the advance payment and the day's revenue into a bag of salted fish.

Early the next morning.

The train station was packed with people.

Song Dong carried a sack and squeezed into the hard-seat carriage.

"What's that smell?" A woman with permed hair in front of me turned around, covering her nose. "It's awful! Take that stinky bag onto the bus, and move it away from me."

Song Dong lowered his head and scurried into a corner.

He didn't forget to retort, "None of your business. I'll pay whatever fare you give."

The flight attendant walked over, covering her nose and waving.

"Comrade, what's in that sack? It smells awful."

"These are dried salted fish I brought back from my hometown." Song Dong hugged the sack tightly. "They're not dirty."

The flight attendant pointed disdainfully to the corner next to the toilet door.

"Go squat over there, don't bother others with the smell."

Song Dong, his neck stiff, roared, "I have a seat. Do you think I'm the only one who smells bad? Don't those people who brought chickens and ducks on the bus smell bad too?"

His hair was messy, and his clothes were patched.

This made the pickpockets on the bus completely uninterested in him.

The flight attendant ignored him.

To avoid going to the toilet, Song Dong ate the cold steamed bun in his bag without daring to drink a drop of water.

The train traveled for a whole day and night, making a lot of noise.

He arrived in Qingyang.

After getting off the bus, I noticed several bloody cracks on my lips, which were excruciatingly painful to the touch.

Qingyang County Railway Station Square.

Song Tingting, carrying a woven bag, turned to look at Song Xianglan.

"Mom, I'm going in."

With eyes full of reluctance, Song Xianglan said, "Tingting, when you get to school, besides studying, you also need to remember to rest."

"Well, there's a big project in the lab this summer, led by my advisor. I want to stay there and follow up, so I won't be coming back," Song Tingting said.

Song Xianglan stepped forward and straightened her collar.

"It's good to stay in school. Learn more real skills." Song Xianglan took out a roll of money from her pocket and stuffed it into her pocket.

"No need, my shop is profitable, and besides, I get a school subsidy for helping my supervisor." Song Tingting returned the money to Song Xianglan.

"Take it." Song Xianglan pressed her hand down. "You gave me all the money you earned from the shop before the New Year. Eat more meat, you've gotten so thin. There's so much going on at home, and I'm busy at both the factory and the warehouse, I haven't had time to come to Beijing to see you. Take good care of yourself."

Song Tingting clutched the money in her pocket tightly.

"Mom, take care of yourself. I'll write to you often." Song Tingting turned and went into the ticket gate.

Song Tingting maintained the habit of writing letters to Song Xianglan.

She would tell Song Xianglan about her situation in her letters, and Song Xianglan would sometimes reply to her letters.

Song Xianglan turned and went to the warehouse only after she could not see Song Tingting.

Just as I arrived at the warehouse, Hou Liangkun also arrived.

Hou Liangkun took out a cigarette. "Boss Song, want a smoke?"

Song Xianglan waved her hand.

He smiled and lit it for himself.

"Mr. Song, I heard your batch of motorcycles is selling like hotcakes?"

"good."

Hou Liangkun exhaled a smoke ring. "Why don't I put five of them here and sell them together? I shouldn't have any trouble selling my ten motorcycles, but I'm worried someone might try to get me."

"What benefits can you offer me?" Song Xianglan asked.

"I'll take 30% of the profits," Hou Liangkun said through gritted teeth.

Song Xianglan didn't quite understand Hou Liangkun's thought process. "Why didn't you just wholesale everything to me? Why did you have to pull this stunt?"

"I'm afraid if I leave it all lying around, someone might mess with it and I'll lose money. I might as well use half of it to test the waters."

"Okay. Send it over."

Hou Liangkun just left.

Two men in uniform rode up on bicycles.

"Boss Song. From the Finance Bureau." One of the fat men flashed his badge. "The bureau specifically requested two Suzuki Kings. The funding has been approved, but there aren't any cars available on the market. Could you spare two of them?"

"We have cars. They're all reserved for bidding," Song Xianglan said.

The fat man looked troubled. "Bidding? We have a budget, we can't exceed it."

"We'll go by the original price from the mall. I won't make any extra money from your markups," Song Xianglan said directly.

The fat man breathed a sigh of relief and clapped his hands.

"Boss Song is very generous. I'll remember this. We'll come to pick up the car this afternoon."

Fortunately, Hou Liangkun brought a car.

Otherwise, there wouldn't be enough cars to sell in Qingyang, and Song Xianglan didn't want to leave too many cars in Qingyang.

Song Dong carried that dirty sack and entered the warehouse like a beggar.

Nie Xiaochuan happened to be carrying a lunchbox when he came out.

"Holy crap. Where did this beggar come from?" Nie Xiaochuan took a big step back. "This stench is absolutely awful, like an ancient foot binding."

Song Dong threw the sack on the ground.

"Me," Song Dong said, his voice hoarse.

Nie Xiaochuan was stunned.

"Song Dong? Did you fall into a cesspool?"

Song Dong ignored him.

He bent down and untied the straw rope on the burlap sack.

Several blackened dried salted fish rolled out.

Nie Xiaochuan almost threw the lunchbox in his hand away.

"You came all the way back from Haishi just to carry these few stinky fish? Have you nothing better to do than let doors slam your head in your head?"

"Stop talking so much nonsense. I'll steam it for you later." Song Dong kicked the salted fish aside.

He lifted the layers of waste newspapers that were underneath.

He reached down to the bottom and pulled out a coarse cloth bag.

Song Xianglan came out from the inner room.

"Go into the office." Song Xianglan glanced at the cloth bag.

Song Dong dumped the cloth bag directly onto his desk.

Bundles of 100-yuan bills spilled out and piled up into a small mountain.

"Eighty-five thousand in total." Song Dong picked up the enamel mug on the table and took a big gulp of cold water. "Third Aunt, all the money is here."

Song Xianglan sat down at the table and gathered the money together.

"Well done." She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you really that short of money lately?" Song Dong asked.

"Once this batch of motorcycles arrives, it has to be paid in full in cash." Song Xianglan moved the money into the safe. "The food factory is expanding this year. A couple of days ago, I asked the Cai family to buy equipment and set up two new production lines. There are money pits everywhere that are asking for more."

"We still need to buy a tractor-trailer."

"Yes." Song Xianglan locked the safe. "We need to add a few more trucks, otherwise our freight capacity won't keep up. This is truly the most financially strained time for me. Your money has been a lifesaver."

Song Dong's eyes darted around as he moved closer to the table.

"Third Aunt, there's actually a way to make money even faster," Song Dong raised his voice. "Everyone in Haishi is going crazy right now."

"What path?"

"Stock trading, huh?" Song Dong gulped down a large enamel mug of tea. "You don't know how skyrocketed the stock market subscription certificates have been these past few days. Some people put in tens of thousands of yuan and made more than ten times their initial investment overnight. People on Huanghe Road are throwing tantrums and treating everyone to meals every day. Money is easier to make than paper."

Song Xianglan knew that stock trading was very profitable.

But she didn't touch the stock market in her previous life; she was someone who didn't earn money outside of her understanding.

If she had known she was reborn, she would definitely have looked into what year and what stock it was. But as a seaside farmer who made her fortune through smuggling and setting up a stall, she knew absolutely nothing about stocks.

"I won't touch it." Song Xianglan didn't even raise her head.

Song Dong panicked.

"Why not try it? Let's put this 80,000 in, and it'll turn into over 100,000 in half a month. Then the money will make more money, and we can buy as many trailers as we want."

There's no such thing as a free lunch.

Song Xianglan stared at him, "You only see people hosting dinner parties on Huanghe Road, but you don't see people lining up to jump off the rooftop."

"As long as you get out quickly, that's fine," Song Dong retorted.

"Do you even know what market analysis is?" Song Xianglan retorted. "Do you understand market trends? Do you understand how major players manipulate the market?"

Song Dong was speechless when asked the question.

"That was a gambling table." Song Xianglan picked up her cup and took a sip of water. "We're not cut out for that. We should focus on honest business, earning every penny we can, and then we can sleep soundly. Let's not bring this up again."

Song Dong curled his lip.

"Fine. You're the boss, so you call the shots."

"Go to the back and wash yourself clean. You stink." Song Xianglan waved her hand. "I'll treat you to seafood at a restaurant later to help you recover."