The hustle and bustle of the birthday banquet faded, and twilight, like thick ink, bathed the suburban villa in tranquility and gentleness. The osmanthus in the courtyard still exuded its rich, sweet fragrance, and the delicate petals, swept by the evening breeze, fell onto the bluestone slabs, forming a thin golden carpet. Lin Wanqiu sat in a wicker chair under the grape trellis, covered with a camel-colored cashmere blanket that Shen Tingzhou had personally draped over her. Her fingertips caressed the warm, smooth jade pendant on her wrist—this family heirloom that had accompanied her for half her life, now gleaming softly in the moonlight, much like her life, full of ups and downs yet ultimately finding fulfillment.

Shen Tingzhou walked over with a bowl of warm lotus seed soup, sat down on the rattan chair next to her, handed the bowl to her, and said in a gentle voice that sounded like it had been through many years: "It's late at night, have some lotus seed soup to warm your body and calm your mind."

Lin Wanqiu took the bowl, scooped up a spoonful of the warm soup, and put it in her mouth. The sweet lotus seed aroma mixed with the soft and glutinous rice flavor slowly melted on her tongue. She looked up at the full moon in the sky, its silvery light pouring down like a ribbon, coating every blade of grass and tree in the courtyard with a hazy glow. In this gentle moonlight, the floodgates of memory quietly opened.

Those were years steeped in suffering, a chill etched into the very marrow of one's bones.

The wind of the 1960s stung her face like a knife. When she first transmigrated, she lay in the icy river, her body stiff with cold, the sharp curses of Old Mrs. Shen and the gloating laughter of Sister-in-law Shen echoing in her ears. When she opened her eyes, she saw a dilapidated thatched hut, a life of utter poverty, and a little boy, thin as a skeleton with timid eyes—that was her son, Shen Nian'an. Back then, Shen Nian'an could barely utter a whispered "Mother," he was so hungry he could barely walk, wearing tattered clothes patched all over, and in winter he didn't even have a decent pair of cotton shoes, his little feet red and cracked from the cold.

Lin Wanqiu still remembers the first time she took out flour from her jade pendant space and steamed a bowl of egg custard for Nian'an. He looked at the child timidly at the golden custard in the bowl, too afraid to reach out, his eyes filled with longing and unease. When she brought the spoon to his lips, he cautiously tasted it, and tears instantly welled up in his eyes—not from sadness, but from the unprecedented sweetness that had finally allowed this unfortunate child to experience the warmth of humanity. At that moment, she secretly vowed that she would protect this child for the rest of her life, ensuring he was well-fed and clothed, and that he would live a life of dignity, never again suffering any injustice.

Thinking of those awful relatives of the Shen family, Lin Wanqiu's lips curled into a faint, cold smile. Old Mrs. Shen's patriarchal favoritism, meanness, and selfishness were appalling. She treated Lin Wanqiu as free labor, wanting to squeeze every last drop of oil from her bones, coveting her meager dowry, and frequently beating and scolding her. Shen's sister-in-law, Zhang Lan, was an even more opportunistic character, constantly following Old Mrs. Shen around, fanning the flames, sowing discord, and grinning from ear to ear at Lin Wanqiu's pathetic state. And then there was that white lotus cousin, Lin Moli, outwardly gentle and weak, calling her "sister" affectionately, but secretly coveting Shen Tingzhou and the family fortune Lin Wanqiu had painstakingly built, repeatedly plotting against her in an attempt to seize her place.

At that time, she was isolated and helpless, struggling to make ends meet. But she wasn't a pushover; she was Lin Wanqiu, a food blogger from the modern world. She had independent thought, a resilient mind, and the powerful support of her jade pendant space. She remembered that her first direct confrontation with Old Lady Shen was over Nian'an's food rations. Old Lady Shen had hidden away the only coarse grains in the house, leaving only a thin porridge for her and Nian'an that was barely visible. Unable to bear it any longer, she stormed into the kitchen, unearthed the hidden grains, and exposed Old Lady Shen's actions in front of the entire village. At that moment, Old Lady Shen's face turned ashen, her sister-in-law's eyes darted away, but she stood tall, gaining a moment's respite in this family for the first time.

Later, when the news of Shen Tingzhou's "resurrection" arrived, Lin Wanqiu's heart was filled with a tidal wave of emotions. Shock, confusion, grievance, anger... all these emotions intertwined, making it almost impossible for her to breathe. She had hated him, hated his silent "sacrifice" that had caused her and Nian'an to suffer endless torment in the Shen family; she had also resented him, resented his sudden return that had disrupted the peaceful life she had painstakingly built. But when she saw his travel-worn appearance, saw the deep guilt and heartache hidden in his eyes, saw him cautiously reach out his hand and call her "Wanqiu," all the resentment in her heart ultimately melted away.

She would always remember that rainy night when Shen Tingzhou stood in front of her thatched hut, soaked to the bone, but with a firm look in his eyes, and said to her, "Wanqiu, I'm sorry for you and the child. For the rest of my life, I will protect you and your child."

That night, they talked for a very long time. She learned the truth about his faked death, that he was on a highly dangerous and confidential mission, about his years of wandering, and about his deep longing for her and Nian'an. The moment the misunderstanding was cleared up, two hearts that had endured so much finally came together again.

With Shen Tingzhou as her strongest backer, Lin Wanqiu stood even taller. She began to boldly experiment, using the seeds and agricultural knowledge from her spatial storage to grow high-yield vegetables and grains on her own plot of land. The lush green vegetables, plump corn, and bright red tomatoes not only enriched her and Nian'an's meals but also provided her with surplus grains to exchange for money at the market. She still remembered the first time she took her homemade pickles and steamed buns to sell at the market; the fragrant aroma attracted many onlookers. Soon, a long queue formed in front of her stall. Clutching the heavy stack of small bills she had earned, her heart was filled with an unprecedented sense of security and joy.

This chapter is not finished yet. Please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content!

The complete chapters of "Hot Mom in the 1960s: Reborn and Raising a Child to a Well-off Life" will continue to be updated on the Shuhaige Novel Network. There are no ads on the site, so please bookmark and recommend Shuhaige Novel Network!