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

Mrs. Sheng held Song Xianglan's hand. "Business is important. The factory can't function without someone in charge for even a day. Don't worry, go back home. Getting the marriage certificate is just a matter of the two children getting a red stamp. When we have the wedding banquet at the end of the year, you must come and stay for a few more days."

"Then you absolutely have to come."

Song Xianglan laughed out loud, "Yu Kun is getting married. Not only am I going to come to the wedding banquet, but I also have to give this kid a big red envelope."

Chen Zui fed the peeled walnut kernels to Shi Xinyi's lips.

"Did you hear that?" Chen Zui glanced into the main room. "Godmother is going back to Qingyang. We should go too."

Shi Xinyi chewed on a walnut, "I'll book the plane tickets tomorrow."

Chen Zui: "Ruzhi, let's move to China in the future. I think Shanghai will definitely have a bright future."

Sheng Ruzhi thought for a moment, "That's fine. But I want Yaya to come along."

"it is good."

At dusk, at the entrance of the post office.

Liu Yukun watched as Sheng Ruzhi came out.

The setting sun cast long shadows of the two of them.

"Is the certificate ready?" Liu Yukun asked.

Sheng Ruzhi patted her bag. "The director approved it. Now we're just waiting for your certificate."

Liu Yukun hopped on the motorcycle. "Get on. I'll take you somewhere."

"Where to?" Sheng Ruzhi sat sideways in the back seat, grabbing the back of his shirt.

"Looking at houses."

The car drove into the street, the evening breeze blowing. "There's a small house in the south area, not big but neat."

Sheng Ruzhi gripped her clothes tightly. "You really want to buy a house?... "

Liu Yukun gripped the brakes, and the car stopped on the side of the road.

He turned to look at her.

"Your mom is willing to give us eight hundred yuan to help you out, that's because she cares about you," Liu Yukun said seriously. "But I can't actually take it. If I rely on my wife's dowry to buy a house, what kind of man am I?"

"But didn't you invest all your money in the fabric business?"

Liu Yukun smiled, "I've been working hard these past few years and have saved up some money. Plus, I made some money in the stock market, and I've been thinking of leaving this money to you."

Sheng Ruzhi lowered her head and pressed her face against his back.

"Once the house is transferred to your name, we'll get our marriage certificate. For the rest of my life, you can only be my wife, Liu Yukun's wife."

This house in the South District is just two streets away from the Sheng family's house.

The old staff quarters of the textile factory, with blue brick walls.

It's 65 square meters, with two bedrooms, a living room, and a small balcony.

The old homeowner was a thin, frail old woman who was wiping the windowsill with a rag.

"Have you decided yet?" The old lady raised an eyebrow. "The location of this house is impeccable. If it weren't for my eldest grandson's urgent trip to America and the need to pay some kind of deposit, I wouldn't sell this house even if you offered me the money."

Liu Yukun looked at Sheng Ruzhi.

Sheng Ruzhi walked around inside and out, then tapped the wall with her finger; it was a solid brick.

"How much is this house?" Song Xianglan asked.

"One price, three thousand six. Full payment." The old lady held up two fingers.

Sheng Ruzhi tugged at Liu Yukun's sleeve and said in a low voice, "It's too expensive. The family housing near the state-owned cotton mill only costs 2,800."

"How far is the state-owned cotton mill? This is close to your home." Liu Yukun patted the back of her hand. "You make the decision. Don't look at the price, look at whether you like the house."

Flourishing like branches

The old woman said, "The buildings in the state-owned cotton mill are old, and you have to walk quite a distance to even go to the toilet. The health bureau is located right here in our building."

Liu Yukun made up his mind, "Okay. We'll complete the transfer tomorrow morning."

The next morning.

The property certificate bears the names of Liu Yukun and Sheng Ruzhi.

I left the housing management bureau.

Song Xianglan glanced at her watch.

"The house is settled, so your relationship is pretty much settled too. I'll buy my train ticket for this afternoon."

Liu Yukun grew anxious, "Why are you leaving in such a hurry? We haven't eaten yet."

"What do you want to eat? How long have you been gone?" Song Xianglan waved her hand. "The factory is all thanks to Zhao Guodong, and those old ladies in the village must be missing me by now."

Sheng Ruzhi hurried home.

Not long after.

Mrs. Sheng arrived, panting, carrying a snakeskin sack.

"Older sister, your passing was so sudden."

"What is this?" Song Xianglan took a step back.

"These are local specialties." Mrs. Sheng squatted down and untied the burlap sack. "Chicken head rice, Dingsheng cake, and a few kinds of glutinous rice balls, and some fine foreign cloth that Dawei's father asked someone to buy. Take it all back and give it to the neighbors."

Song Xianglan tried to lift it, but the sack was so heavy it weighed down her hand.

"I can't carry it, I really can't. It must weigh forty or fifty pounds."

"Are you disgusted by our worn-out stuff? Chen Zui took more stuff with him when he left this morning." Mrs. Sheng glared at Song Xianglan, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the station. "You have to take it all today. Yu Kun, your godmother will carry it."

Without saying a word, David picked up the sack and left.

The green train whistles.

Song Xianglan squeezed onto the train carriage carrying a sack.

The train rattled and swayed for a whole day and night.

When we arrived at Qingyang Railway Station.

It was midday.

The late summer heat was intense, with the sun baking the asphalt road relentlessly.

Song Xianglan dragged a sack out of the station, and a wave of heat hit her face.

The clothes instantly clung to my back.

"Hey lady, wanna take a ride in this tricycle?" A thin, dark-skinned man pedaled his tricycle, making a creaking sound, and parked it in front of Song Xianglan. "Where to?"

Song Xianglan wiped her sweat. "How much does it cost to go to the warehouse in the western suburbs?"

"It's too hot today, five yuan."

"Go ahead and rob it," Song Xianglan said, dragging her sack past him. "The minibus fare is two yuan. I'll just wait at the front."

"Hey, hey, hey. The minibus just left, the next one won't come for another half an hour." The man hurriedly turned his vehicle around to catch up. "Ma'am, you're carrying such heavy stuff, if you get heatstroke, the doctor's visit will cost more than five yuan. Four yuan and fifty cents, four yuan and fifty cents, wanna go?"

Song Xianglan stopped in her tracks. "I'll leave for four yuan."

The man quickly jumped out of the car.

"Okay, let's do some business today, four yuan it is."

He helped carry the sacks onto the train carriage.

The tricycle bumped along the way.

Upon reaching the warehouse entrance, the man collected the money and left.

Song Xianglan carried the sack inside.

A dozen or so workers are packing the items.

I didn't see Nie Xiaochuan, nor did I see Chunxia.

"Old Li," Song Xianglan called out at the top of her lungs.

Old Li, who was in charge of the warehouse, was counting the items when he turned around and saw Song Xianglan. He quickly came to greet her.

"Hey boss, you're finally back!" Old Li wiped the sweat from his brow. "Did you finalize the deal in Shanghai?"

"All done." Song Xianglan pushed the sack against the wall. "Where's Xiao Chuan? Why isn't he keeping watch at the warehouse in broad daylight?"

Old Li looked around and said, "Something happened at Xiao Chuan's family."

Song Xianglan frowned. "What happened?"

"His fifth sister-in-law is here."

Song Xianglan was stunned.

Nie Xiaochuan's fifth brother died in the army and was considered a martyr. His wife received a pension and remarried in a neighboring county, taking her two sons with her.

For so many years, he has never stepped into the Nie family's gate during holidays.

"What is she doing here?" Song Xianglan wondered.

"Please ask Xiao Chuan to take in the sons she took away," Old Li sighed. "This morning she ran to the warehouse gate, grabbed two half-grown boys, and started crying and kowtowing. She insisted that the children were from the Nie family and had to be recognized as family members. She also said that the children would grow up to marry and have children."

Song Xianglan sneered.

"Recognize your ancestors? Why didn't you do that earlier?" Song Xianglan pulled up a chair, sat down, and took a few big gulps of the winter melon tea that Old Li brought her.

"They haven't shown their faces for over ten years, but they've come knocking on our door to beg for money."

"That's what Chunxia said too!" Old Li said. "Chunxia got angry and grabbed a broom to chase her away. Then Fifth Sister-in-law sat on the ground and started throwing a tantrum, saying that Fifth Brother Xiaochuan had appeared in a dream and wanted his son to come home. Xiaochuan was afraid it would affect his work, so he took her back to the village to resolve the matter."

Song Xianglan stood up and placed the enamel mug on the table.

"Okay, I understand. Continue counting, make sure you don't send the wrong goods."

Song Xianglan did not stay in the warehouse for long.

After walking to the main intersection and waiting for twenty minutes, I flagged down a minibus heading back to town.

The minibus stopped at the village intersection.

Song Xianglan hailed another tricycle and headed straight for the village entrance.

The sun was setting in the west, and the heat dissipated a little.

Under the centuries-old banyan tree at the village entrance, a group of elderly men and women were gathered.

Some were fanning themselves with palm-leaf fans, others were cracking melon seeds, and spittle was flying everywhere.

The tricycle turned from the main road into the village entrance.

A group of elderly people stared at the tricycle approaching from afar, craning their necks to identify who it was. Their minds were like warehouses; as soon as they matched a figure with someone's image, untold stories about that person would immediately come to mind.