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

Song Dong went out.

Zhao Guodong and Lao Chen came to Song Xianglan's office.

Zhao Guodong was not satisfied with the drawing by Lao Chen, saying that it did not meet his requirements.

"Old Chen, you drew those lines wrong." Zhao Guodong tapped his finger on the table with considerable force. "I don't want a haphazardly erected shed; I want a standardized workshop."

Old Chen was not convinced either, so he also built some factory buildings.

When I was young, I even followed my master to build factory buildings for a large state-owned factory. "Director Zhao, this is just building a factory for making food. Before, when I worked for large state-owned factories, the buildings I built were all..."

"That was then," Zhao Guodong interrupted him. "Now that you've taken on Boss Song's job, you have to follow our rules."

This land is to be divided into Factory One, Factory Two, Factory Three, and Factory Four.

"In the future, Boss Song's business will be developed into a group company. If you build these workshops well, you'll make a good amount of money yourself. Besides, these workshops will be future branch factories. Your old methods are no longer effective."

Old Chen was speechless, his eyes wide with disbelief.

He'd seen all sorts of massive projects, yet Zhao Guodong was now behaving like an apprentice to him.

But Zhao Guodong is an expert, and his requirements are strict to the core.

"Then how do you suggest we do it?" Old Chen retorted. "I can't draw this diagram."

"I'll have someone draw it for you." Zhao Guodong grabbed the phone on the table and dialed directly.

Although Zhou Fang is from Xincheng, he previously studied architecture under an old professor at Tongda University in Haishi. He is talented and hardworking.

To become the old professor's prized student.

He received the call and rushed back to Xiaoquan Village the next day.

In the afternoon, Song Xianglan was checking accounts in her office.

Zhao Guodong and Lao Chen pushed open the door and came in. Zhou Fang followed closely behind, his eyes bruised and dark.

Zhou Fang spread several drawings on Song Xianglan's table.

"Godmother, build the workshop according to this blueprint." Zhou Fang pointed to the clearly defined lines on the blueprint, then turned to Old Chen, "Uncle Chen, I've marked the specific dimensions of the load-bearing walls and ventilation openings. The big factories in Haishi are all using this structure now; it's safe and has good ventilation."

Old Chen leaned closer for a closer look, and his expression changed.

The drawing was better than any he had ever seen.

I remember that back then, Zhou Fang only gathered a team of bricklayers in Qingyang.

Unexpectedly, in just a few years, he has become a professional designer.

"Boss Zhou, did you really draw this?" Old Chen asked, pointing to the drawing.

"I drew them. My teacher got me a few jobs like this. There were also some office buildings." Zhou Fang's voice sounded tired.

"Okay, I understand the drawings." Old Chen put away the blueprints. "Director Zhao, with these drawings, I guarantee the factory you build will be no worse than the ones in Haishi."

Zhou Fang nodded and pulled out another picture.

"Godmother, I have another suggestion. In the future, we need to allocate a separate piece of land outside the factory to build a residential area, completely separated from the factory gate."

Song Xianglan put down her pen.

"Why the sudden idea to build a residential area?"

"My advisor talked about the planning of factory sites abroad," Zhou Fang said, pointing to the blank space on the map. "Right now, we're trying to save trouble by having all the staff dormitories inside the factory. But as the factory grows larger, with more people coming and going, it'll be easy for things to get chaotic if living and production are mixed together, and it won't be easy to manage."

Song Xianglan pondered for a moment.

"That makes sense. Let's set aside a piece of land outside and move the current dormitory building there."

"Godmother, there's no rush."

Zhou Fang stopped her. "There aren't many people in the factory right now. Most people commute by bike, and few live in dormitories. If you start building the residential area, you'll definitely run out of funds. You can reserve the land first and build it when you have more money."

Song Xianglan really didn't have that much money on hand.

"We can't take out loans like we would in later years. You've thought things through very well. I really can't come up with a large sum of money right now."

Zhao Guodong spoke up from the side:

"The factory has been shipping a lot lately, and most of the money in the account has been used to buy raw materials and pay wages. We're still a little short of the funds to expand the workshop."

Zhou Fang reached into his bag and pulled out a small package wrapped in a black plastic bag, which he then placed on the table.

"Godmother, I almost forgot. Xiangdong asked me to bring this to you."

Song Xianglan was taken aback.

"To the east? Where did he get that for me?"

Zhou Fang opened the bag, inside was a bundle of neatly tied banknotes. "This is what Huijun left for Xiangdong before she went to Shenzhen. Xiangdong hasn't been able to find a chance to come back, so he asked me to bring it to you."

Song Xianglan looked at the money on the table without saying a word.

"Besides their savings, there's also money Huijun borrowed from her family," Zhou Fang explained. "Her parents said that your mother-in-law needed money for her business, and they had tens of thousands of yuan on hand, so they transferred it to you first."

Just then, Song Dong pushed open the door and walked in.

He had just deposited the payment from Haishi into the warehouse when he heard this and glanced at the money on the table.

"Third Aunt, should we call the finance department over to check the numbers?" Song Dong asked.

Song Xianglan nodded.

Finance officer Li rushed over, her fingers flying across the keyboard, and quickly finished counting.

"Director Song, that's a total of sixty thousand yuan."

Sixty thousand yuan.

Song Xianglan felt a pang of sadness in her heart.

The money Shen Huijun earned from her work over the past two years, plus Song Xiangdong's salary and the loan from her in-laws, are all here.

With Song Xiangdong's meager fixed salary, after deducting the expenses of his entire family, there's hardly anything left.

"These two children," Song Xianglan sighed.

"Tingting just called this morning." Song Xianglan looked at Zhou Fang and Song Dong. "She said she sent all the money she earned from her clothing store in Beijing, and I can use it too."

Old Chen, listening from the side, kept shaking his head. "Boss Song, your two children are really sensible. They know the whole family should work together towards a common goal. And your in-laws are also very understanding."

"Yes." Song Xianglan put the money into the drawer. "With this money, we won't have to worry about the material costs in the workshop."

Old Chen took the blueprints.

"Then I'll go to the construction site and keep an eye on things. Boss Song, Factory Manager Zhao, you two get back to work."

Only our own people remained in the office.

Song Xianglan stared at Zhou Fang's face.

Zhou Fang had lost even more weight; her cheeks were sunken, and the dark circles under her eyes were so heavy it looked like she had been punched.

"Zhou Fang, how many days have you not slept?" Song Xianglan asked, frowning.

Zhou Fang gave a wry smile and forced a smile. "I can't sleep. As soon as I close my eyes, all I can think about is things. I just stare blankly at the ceiling all night long. I can only find things to do, like drawing diagrams and calculating data."

Song Xianglan knew he was suffering inside.

Getting divorced and losing your home is a terrible feeling.

"Does Da Bao know that he's precocious?" Song Xianglan asked.

Zhou Fang lowered her head and covered her face with her hands. "Godmother, Da Bao can tell we're divorced."

Zhou Fang's voice was a little muffled. "Da Bao seems to have grown up all of a sudden. He told me that he will study hard and become a successful person like Uncle Xiang Dong and Aunt Ting Ting in the future."

Da Bao was well aware that his maternal grandmother looked down on his father, and he also understood his mother's choice.

That Fu Qingnian is no match for my father at all, just because he's from Shanghai and got into a good university.

Zhou Fang's hands were covered in rough calluses, making him look twenty years older than his face.

"Go lie down for a while," Song Xianglan said, pointing to the sofa. "You definitely won't be able to sleep alone in that room. Take a nap here. This is a place you know well, a familiar environment, and there are even people swearing in the workshop outside. Hearing that will make you feel more at ease."

Zhou Fang didn't refuse again. He was simply too tired.

He walked to the sofa, lay down, and closed his eyes.

Zhao Guodong glanced at Zhou Fang, nodded to Song Xianglan, and quietly slipped out, closing the door behind him.

Song Dong walked to the table.

He took out a large stack of stamps from his handbag and placed them in front of Song Xianglan.

"Third Aunt, the monkey stamps have been bought back." Song Dong lowered his voice.

Song Xianglan picked up a sheet and looked at it.

Against a bright red background, a lifelike golden monkey is depicted. The bottom right corner reads "8 points, 1980".

"How come your classmate has so many?" Song Xianglan asked.

"When it was first issued, the higher-ups assigned a task to the post office," Song Dong explained. "Back then, their monthly salary was only fifty or sixty yuan, and everyone had to buy it."

After I bought it, I just left it in a drawer at home to collect dust.

Prices started rising at the end of last year, and everyone was thinking of taking advantage of the trend to sell quickly, not only to recoup their costs but also to earn enough for a few meals.

"How much did you pay?"

"Based on market price, it's about five times the original price." Song Dong calculated, "When a single note first came out, it was eight cents, and a set of eighty notes was six yuan and forty cents. Now it's increased fivefold, and a set costs thirty-two yuan."

Thirty-odd yuan is equivalent to more than half a month's living expenses for an average family.

Song Dong kept two sets for himself and gave the rest to Song Xianglan.

Song Xianglan counted the items. "Thirty sets in total. Okay, I'll take them all. I'll have the finance department transfer the money to you later."

"Third Aunt, can these stamps really be used as money?" Song Dong was still a little unsure. "Spending almost a thousand yuan on these little pieces of paper, isn't that too much of a financial burden?"

"This is called collectible value." Song Xianglan locked the stamps in the safe. "These will definitely be a huge find in the future. If we come across a suitable one, we'll collect some and keep them. If not, we won't have to search the world for them. Consider it as building up a family fortune for our children."

Song Dong's eyes lit up. "I'll remember that. I won't let it go if I come across it."

Zhou Fang, who was lying on the sofa, turned over and mumbled something.

"I think the post office in the new town also has one. I'll go there and look around later."

"Weren't you asleep?" Song Dong chuckled. "You can still keep talking."

Zhou Fang didn't open her eyes, but the corners of her mouth curved slightly.

"It's good to close your eyes and rest."

Less than two minutes later, Zhou Fang's soft and even snoring could be heard from the sofa.

Song Xianglan and Song Dong exchanged a glance, and neither of them spoke again.

Song Xianglan continued to flip through the account book, while Song Dong quietly left the office.

Outside the window, the faint roar of bulldozers could be heard; this land in Xiaoquan Village was gradually sprouting new life.