Song Ci was assisted by Madam Song to sit on the Arhat bed, feeling the warm temperature inside the room, and sighed.
Although it was somewhat unfortunate to have transmigrated to ancient times, at least she was a wealthy old lady. If she had transmigrated into a refugee waiting for porridge outside, she feared she might have just dropped dead on the spot.
"Mother, have some tea." Madam Song diligently served a cup of tea to Song Ci.
Song Ci took the tea and glanced at her: "Has your anger subsided?"
Madam Song felt her face heat up, sat down, and jested with a smile: "Mother, you are teasing this daughter-in-law. You've eaten more salt than I've eaten rice, so I must learn from you."
Song Ci chuckled lightly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
This eldest daughter-in-law was born noble. It would be strange if she learned from an old farm woman, which she wouldn't take seriously.
