In her previous life, she was an ATM and a free nanny for her three children. On New Year's Eve, driven out with nowhere to go, she smashed her head against a wall and died.
When she opened her eyes again, it was 1986.
Her son wanted money? No. Her daughter wanted her to pull strings? Figure it out yourself. Her youngest son made grand promises? You can have the promises. I'll keep my money to buy a house.
Everyone said she was crazy. Instead of saving her money for her children, she spent it all on junk: old books, discarded newspapers, and broken furniture, piling it high in a warehouse. Her children were ashamed of her, and the neighbors laughed.
Who knew that once she was free of her children, a rare stamp would fetch 30,000 yuan, a piece of Ming-dynasty huanghuali furniture would be worth as much as a house, and museums would fight over manuscripts by famous people?
Her children came rushing back with red eyes. "Mom, we'll take care of you in your old age!"
Li Qiuju crossed her legs. "Take care of me? I've got money. You? Go find somewhere else to be."
