Chapter 87: The Deal, Exposed

At first, Song Ci was somewhat afraid when she saw the original owner—who isn’t afraid of death? If the original owner truly intended to summon her soul, there was nothing she could do about it. But after exchanging only a few words, she threw caution to the wind. In any case, she was already in this decrepit body; rather than lingering in her waning years, she might as well finish it off cleanly.

“Come on, go ahead. Whoever’s afraid is a coward,” Song Ci stepped forward.

The original owner was speechless.

Faced with someone who played by no rules, it seemed she’d pleaded with the wrong heavens.

The original owner was no shrinking violet; to put it bluntly, she was the kind of country woman whom outsiders mocked for being uneducated and foul-mouthed—a nouveau riche with a thick skin.

“You little girl, how can you be so ruthless? Don’t you know to respect your elders? I could be your grandmother, and you’re using my body now, yet you treat me like this? Where’s your sense?” she scolded.

Song Ci snorted coldly. “Why would a young woman in her prime covet a body with a collapsed chest, sagging hips, and wrinkled skin? It’s that damned heaven playing tricks on me, making me occupy this body.”

As she spoke, she even punched herself twice.

The original owner’s mouth twitched, feeling a pang for her own flesh—this girl really didn’t care, abusing her body as she pleased.

Her expression collapsed as she floated closer. “Promise me you’ll protect the Song family, find a good wife for my youngest son, and when your time comes to die peacefully, I’ll use my soul to send you back to where you came from.”

Song Ci’s heart skipped a beat. “What? You…”

Had she heard right? Could this old woman send her back to the modern world?

“Promise me.”

Song Ci’s eyes darted. “Can you really send me back? How do I know you’re not just stringing me along?”

The original owner smiled. “But you don’t have any other choice, do you?”

Song Ci was silent for a long moment. “Are you willing, madam? You built this family with your own hands, but your husband kept bringing in concubines one after another.”

The original owner looked away. “Of course I’m willing. This is the home I built myself. My sons—they’re my own flesh and blood.”

Song Ci was quiet, a heaviness settling in her chest.

“That settles it, then,” said the original owner.

“Wait! Protect the Song family—does that mean some disaster is coming? Tell me! Hey, don’t leave, come back!” Song Ci reached out to the empty air over the water, shouting in frustration.

Was this a joke? The old lady only said half and then disappeared. What was going on, and how was she supposed to protect the Song family?

“Infuriating!” Song Ci cried out, sitting up in bed and opening her eyes—only to be met by a pair of aged eyes, and she recoiled in fright.

“Mama Gong, are you trying to scare me to death?” Song Ci clutched her wildly beating heart.

Mama Gong’s gaze flickered. “Madam, were you having a nightmare?”

Song Ci nodded, then something occurred to her. She eyed Mama Gong askew. “Mama, I just had a bad dream. Were you with me the whole time? Did I say anything strange?”

Mama Gong looked a bit embarrassed. “When I saw you asleep, I stepped out for a drink of water. When I came back, I heard you shouting, ‘Don’t leave, I’m furious!’ but I didn’t catch anything else.”

Song Ci let out a breath. “Mm, I was threatened by an old ghost, and I’m very angry. Mama, my heart feels unsettled. Go ask Lin Qing to prepare a calming decoction for me.”

“Yes, madam.” Mama Gong tucked her in and turned to leave.

Song Ci, her back facing Mama Gong, was lost in her own thoughts and didn’t notice her trusted nurse’s trembling hand or the odd way she walked.