Chapter 3 Get the money!

Wei Dani looked at Song Nanting like she’d seen a ghost. “You—you, how did you…”

“How do I know?” Song Nanting’s mood actually lightened a bit when she saw Wei Dani looking so rattled. With a faint smile, she said, “Why don’t you guess how I found out?”

Wei Dani jolted with alarm, then quickly shook her head and denied it, “No, there’s no such money. Shifeng’s been missing for a long time, we’ve had no contact. How could he be sending money home? Who told you something like that? Tell me—I’ll go find her and deal with her!”

Her mind was in chaos. How could Song Nanting possibly know that Shifeng was not only still in contact with them, but also sending money? Who told her? For a second, Wei Dani thought of the mailman. But that couldn’t be it—she had relatives working at the post office. No way the mailman would tell Song Nanting.

Song Nanting stood there looking down at her like she was watching a play. “Go on. Keep talking.”

Just from the look on Song Nanting’s face, Wei Dani knew she wasn’t buying any of it. She quickly changed her tune, “Our family paid the bride price—so it’s only right that you work in our home…”

“We never had a marriage certificate,” Song Nanting interrupted with a smile. “Not even a common-law marriage. So what does that make it? Human trafficking? Should I report you to the police? I hear that’s illegal.”

Wei Dani nearly passed out from rage. She took a deep breath. “Even if it wasn’t that, you came here of your own free will. You were already an adult. Your mom told you to come home and you refused—you chose to stay here and work. What could I do?”

Song Nanting laughed. “Of my own free will? And why did I do that? Wasn’t it because you and your precious son tricked me?”

It was already getting late outside. Song Nanting didn’t want to waste another second in this house. She cut to the point. “No more nonsense. You have two choices: either give me the money, or I’ll go straight to the capital and report Pan Shifeng to his work unit. Let’s see if the leaders under the emperor’s nose are willing to cover up for a scumbag among the people.”

Back then, being a government official meant everything. If someone had a blemish on their record, no matter how capable they were, the organization would never promote them.

Looking straight at Wei Dani, Song Nanting said, “Choose for yourself. I’m giving you five minutes.”

Of course, Wei Dani didn’t want to hand over the money. But if she didn’t, she was terrified this crazy woman would really go to the capital. When someone is desperate, there’s nothing they won’t do. And this woman was clearly at that point. If she actually went to the capital, her son’s official status, her future daughter-in-law from a well-connected family—would it all be gone?

Song Nanting knew full well that Wei Dani didn’t want to part with that 1,500 yuan. That was a huge sum back then. In the countryside, you could get a wife for 50 yuan.

But Song Nanting had her reasons for asking for exactly that amount. Pan Shifeng, in order to avoid coming home, had made a deal with Wei Dani to send 10 yuan a month as a support allowance. But Wei Dani thought it was too little, and they finally settled on 15 yuan a month. That’s not all—she also forced him to send a lump sum of 600 yuan as “coffin money,” threatening that if he didn’t, she and Pan Shiying would go to the capital and find him.

And when Pan Shifeng’s father died in a factory brawl, she threw a fit and managed to get several hundred yuan in compensation. All that added up to most of Wei Dani’s savings.

Song Nanting was betting on it—would the old hag be willing to give up 1,500 yuan to protect her son’s future and that steady monthly income?

But even if Wei Dani paid, Song Nanting wasn’t planning to let Pan Shifeng off the hook. After all, it was his idea in the first place.

He’d told his mom, “Isn’t it better to stay in a familiar place with someone to serve you and no worries about food or shelter? Why bother coming to the capital, where you’ll be looked down on by city people? Life’s more comfortable back home.”

So Wei Dani agreed. She pretended to treat Song Nanting better on the surface. And for someone like Song Nanting, who grew up deprived of love, those sweet words had felt like warmth—and she believed them.

As Song Nanting finished speaking, Wei Dani stood there, frantically trying to figure something out. But Song Nanting didn’t want to keep dragging it out. She started the countdown: “5, 4, 3, 2, 1—alright, I guess I’m heading to the—”

“I’ll do it!” Wei Dani struggled to her feet, body aching all over. Her chest heaved with rage. Her eyes burned with venom as she stared at Song Nanting and said through gritted teeth, “Song Nanting, you’d better think this through. I’ll give you the money—but how much of it do you think you’ll actually get? Your mother—do you think she’ll let you keep it? And weren’t you always in love with Shifeng? I used to feel guilty about you. I even considered writing him and asking him to take you back. But if you walk out that door today, you and Shifeng will be over—no more connection at all.”

She was still hoping Song Nanting would change her mind. That 1,500 yuan was her coffin money.

But Song Nanting just laughed at the mention of Pan Shifeng’s name. “What, you think I’m some kind of trash collector? Why would I want that garbage?”

Compared to Lu Jian’an, Pan Shifeng wasn’t even worthy of shining his shoes. That slick pretty boy, surviving in the capital by clinging to women—he disgusted her. She must’ve been blind to ever think he was gentle.

“You!” Wei Dani was so furious she laughed. “Fine. You’ve got guts.”

She stormed into the inner room, yanking the curtain aside, and Pan Shiying—still terrified from the earlier beating—scrambled in behind her on hands and knees.

The mother and daughter whispered to each other for a long time. Finally, Wei Dani came out with a dark expression and a cloth bundle in hand. She slammed it down on the table.

“Song Nanting, you’d better be sure. The moment you step out that door, you and my Shifeng have nothing to do with each other anymore.”

Song Nanting rolled her eyes at her, picked up the cloth bundle, and began counting the money right in front of Wei Dani—1,500 yuan. Then she held out her hand. “Still short twenty.”

“There’s no more,” Wei Dani said through gritted teeth, her heart aching. “Giving you this 1,500 means we mother and daughter won’t even have food to eat.”

Song Nanting replied coldly, “What the hell does you starving have to do with me? Am I your mother, supposed to feed you? If you’re short, ask your son. Maybe you’ve got a daughter-in-law whose father is some high-ranking official? 1,500 yuan is nothing to people like that.”

She didn’t believe for a second that the old witch wouldn’t go ask him for more.

Wei Dani was so furious she could hardly breathe. After a moment, she pulled another twenty from her pocket and slapped it on the table. “We’re even.”

Song Nanting gave a cold snort, scooped up the money, and headed into the east wing. She opened the door and stared at the familiar yet pitiful furnishings inside, a tight knot forming in her chest.

The bedding was the oldest, the clothes the worst, and nothing in the room was of any real value.

She lifted the mat and dug out a tattered cloth bundle from underneath. Inside was the money she’d saved from odd jobs—mostly coins and small bills, one or two jiao notes. In total: 28.5 yuan.

Four and a half years in the Pan family, scrubbing, laboring, covering shifts—this was all she’d managed to save.

She stuffed the money into her pocket, picked up a stick, and smashed everything in the room to pieces.

When she came back out, she saw Wei Dani staring at her in horror, stumbling a few steps back. “Song Nanting, what are you doing?!”

Song Nanting didn’t reply. She stepped toward her slowly, holding the stick. Wei Dani’s legs began to tremble, and suddenly, a wet trickle ran down her pants leg.

Song Nanting paused—then burst out laughing. After all that arrogance, Wei Dani had pissed herself in fear.

Still saying nothing, Song Nanting approached with a cold expression. She walked into the main hall, then yanked open the curtain to the inner room and began smashing a cabinet—whack after whack until it splintered into pieces.

Strangely enough, she wondered where all this strength was coming from.

No time to think about it. Amid Pan Shiying’s shrieks, Song Nanting pulled out a stack of letters from the smashed cabinet.

These were all the letters exchanged between Wei Dani and Pan Shifeng. With this evidence, there was no way they could weasel out of today’s mess.

Wei Dani’s face turned pale. “You can’t take those!”

Song Nanting raised the stick again and, with a bang, smashed the large wall mirror into shards. Amid the crashing of glass, her voice cut through the chaos like something from the depths of hell—cold, terrifying:

“If you want to die, then come at me.”