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

Song Xianglan became happier the more she thought about it, and couldn't help but burst into laughter.

"What are you laughing at? What's so funny?" Shen's mother glanced at her.

"I laugh at Song Qiang and his gang of men for their inexplicable self-confidence." Song Xianglan switched the roast goose she was carrying. "They always think that the young and beautiful women outside are devoted to them because they want him as a person."

He really thinks that without his measly money, young girls will even glance at this middle-aged man? In the end, he just thinks any woman who sleeps with him will give him a son.

Song Xianglan seemed to be referring to someone other than her nephew.

They were like strangers from the outside world.

Shen's mother slapped her arm. "You should tone it down a bit. You're smiling so much your face is all wrinkled. We can talk about this in private, but if your older brother and sister-in-law hear this, they'll definitely feel uncomfortable."

"What's so annoying?"

"No matter how bad Song Qiang is, he's still their own son. Parents may be angry, but how can they not love their little grandson?" Shen's mother said, pursing her lips.

Song Xianglan twitched the corner of her mouth:

"They definitely love their grandson dearly. Last year, my elder brother and sister-in-law had Song Qiang take that child back to Qingyang to see him. Now look what's happened—they've brought back a bastard to worship their ancestors. If the ancestors knew, they'd probably manifest and beat him."

Upon hearing this, Shen's mother also laughed.

Back in the compound.

The two pushed open the door and entered the house.

The aroma of food wafted from the kitchen.

The nanny, Wang Ma, was wiping the table with a rag.

Wang Ma was a widow who had endured countless hardships to raise her two sons on her own in her early years.

She finally managed to support her son's wedding, but neither of the two families wanted to live with her.

The eldest daughter-in-law complained that her face was always long and bitter, while the younger daughter-in-law complained that she was clumsy and didn't know how to take care of children.

The two sons discussed it.

They urged her to sell the old house, divide the proceeds among her two brothers, and then borrow some money to buy a new house.

That sounds nice, but each family will leave her a spacious room.

Once the money was in hand and the new house was bought, there were no rooms left; all that was left for her was a balcony with a makeshift bed.

She gets yelled at every day for taking up space on the balcony to dry clothes.

Wang Ma was also a woman of temper; without saying a word, she packed her bedding and left.

I went out to work as a nanny, but I lost all my addresses and phone numbers.

She doesn't even contact her son during holidays.

When she arrived at the Song family, Shen's mother treated her very well because she was efficient and didn't talk much.

When I go back to Haishi, I always bring her clothes, and I even bought her a gold ring for the Spring Festival.

Wang Ma was grateful and never made a single mistake in what she did.

"Wang Ma, cook two less dishes. I brought back roast goose and char siu from outside today." Mother Shen handed over the bag.

Wang Ma dried her hands on her apron, took the bag, and nodded in agreement.

"I just made some red bean and tangerine peel soup."

Shen's mother turned to look at Song Xianglan, "You like this. I'll have Wang Ma add some rock sugar later, and bring it up after it cools down."

Song Xianglan nodded and hung the bag on the rack.

A commotion came from outside the door.

Fu Bao and You Bao came home from school.

"Grandma. Grandma." Fu Bao, carrying her little schoolbag, buried her head in Song Xianglan's arms and snuggled against her affectionately.

Song Xianglan caught the little girl and her gaze fell on Youbao, whose schoolbag strap was half hanging down.

On Youbao's fair face, the corner of her right eye was swollen and bruised.

"Youbao, what happened to your face? Did you get into a fight at school again?" Song Xianglan frowned.

Youbao rubbed the corner of his eye with the back of his hand, seemingly unconcerned. "Grandma, don't call me Youbao. My name is Song Shiyan. My nickname doesn't sound very impressive."

Fu Bao pouted her chubby little lips and immediately retorted:

"My nickname is so nice. Song Shiyan sounds so old-fashioned. Grandma, Grandma, you should call me Fubao."

The little girl hugged Song Xianglan's neck.

Song Xianglan twitched her nose and smelled several mixed sweet scents on Fu Bao.

"Why do I smell White Rabbit milk candy on you? And shrimp chips, no, potato chips too." Song Xianglan pinched Fu Bao's little face.

Fu Bao's eyes darted around, and she quickly put a finger to her lips.

"Grandma, please don't tell Mom, or she'll accuse me of not eating properly again."

Shen's mother burst out laughing:

"If you eat fewer snacks at night, your mom won't say anything."

"But Grandma, I really love eating this!" Fu Bao said confidently.

She was very popular at school.

Not only did her classmates stuff food into her hands, but even older students liked to feed her, and the neighbors in the compound would stuff food into her pockets whenever they saw her.

"Alright, alright, go do your homework. I'll call you for dinner later."

The two little ones dashed into the study.

This is a study room specially set up for them.

The room is half pink and half blue, separated by a bookshelf, allowing the two people to talk without disturbing each other.

As dusk fell, Shen Huijun pushed open the door and came in.

"Mom." Shen Huijun changed her shoes and came into the house. "Xiang Dong's secretary just called and said that he has to entertain some overseas Chinese who are returning to China to invest tonight, so he won't be coming back for dinner. He told us to eat first."

"He's busy with his own things. Let's eat." Song Xianglan washed her hands and sat down at the dining table.

The family sat together.

The roast goose and char siu glistened with oil, and the aroma of the slow-cooked soup filled the air.

Song Xianglan took a sip of soup and looked at Shen Huijun across from her.

"Huijun, your mother and I stumbled upon something today. That precious son Song Qiang is keeping might actually be an imposter."

With a clang.

Shen Huijun's chopsticks slammed against the edge of the bowl.

Her eyes widened, and she forgot to swallow her food. "Mom, what did you say? A fake?"

Song Xianglan recounted what she had seen.

Mother Shen added fuel to the fire, telling the whole story about Xi Mei.

Shen Huijun shook her head as she listened.

"Lin Xue'er is too audacious. Song Qiang is raising someone else's son and treating him like a treasure. You have no idea, a few months ago Song Qiang brought that Zongzong to our house for a meal. He was incredibly domineering."

Shen Huijun gets a headache whenever she talks about this.

"When that kid sits down at the table, he grabs the food as soon as he sees it, splattering soup everywhere. After one meal, there's a huge ring of rice grains around the edge of his bowl."

I said a couple of things, and Zongzong immediately accused me of bullying him. Song Qiang even said that boys are just mischievous.

Later, I told him directly that from now on, he was only allowed to bring five phoenixes. As for his precious son, let him stay in his own home and be the emperor, so he won't corrupt our Fu Bao and You Bao.

Youbao, who was eating, suddenly looked up and mumbled:

"I even fought with him once. That Zongzong is really bad; he snatched Fubao's toys. He's fat and strong, but I still won."

Youbao angrily poked at the rice in the bowl.

He's clearly still holding a grudge.

"Go sign up for a Sanda (Chinese kickboxing) class in the future, and don't try to take punches with your face." Song Xianglan put a piece of pork rib into his bowl.

Mr. Shen's hair was neatly combed, he wore a well-fitting silk shirt and a pair of polished leather shoes, and he had the demeanor of a Shanghai gentleman.

He walked to the dining table and sat down.

"What were you just talking about? Who's raising whose son?"

Shen's mother rolled her eyes at him and briefly recounted the whole story.

Finally, Mrs. Shen slammed her hand on the table. "I've discussed it with my mother-in-law. Tomorrow we'll take pictures of that little girl and that old hag, and anonymously show them to Song Qiang."

Mr. Shen put down the chopsticks he had just picked up and perked up.

"I'll go with you tomorrow, and I'll be in charge of taking photos."

Shen's mother refused without hesitation.

"You're kidding me. Your skills are only good for taking pictures of dead flowers and birds. You'd spend ages just focusing and finding the right composition to photograph a person."

They'd be on guard as soon as they saw you standing there with that huge camera. Before you even finished taking one picture, those thugs would probably beat you to death in that alley.

Mr. Shen was so angry that his beard stood on end, he shoved the bowl and chopsticks onto the table, and his face turned red.

"Who are you calling slow? You're just looking down on me. Is this about composition? This is art. You old hag, what do you know about photography?"

"I don't understand? Even if I don't understand, I know that survival is the priority in a place like that," Shen's mother retorted sharply. "With your outfit, are you trying to make sure everyone knows you're rich? Who else would they rob if not you?"

Mr. Shen became anxious.

"Don't I even know what's important and what's secondary? You don't want me to go, but I'm going anyway. This is a great subject to be missed."

The two started arguing across the table.

One blames the other for not understanding art, while the other complains that the other is not accomplished enough.

Shen Huijun rubbed her temples helplessly and said to Song Xianglan:

"Mom, look at my parents. They argue three times a day over the smallest things when they're at home. But if they go out separately, they miss each other terribly after only half a day."

Mr. Shen, with his sharp ears, immediately replied:

"Who wants to see that gossipy old woman?"

Shen's mother chimed in:

"Exactly. I don't want that old Deng at all."