After Becoming a Little |

"No but!" Mrs. Song said as she picked up the teacup in front of her, and took a sip with a rather unhappy expression: "I'll give you another month at most, you have to leave, don't forget your identity."

"But I still have time!" Lianhua was about to cry: "I made an agreement with you back then, and I still have three years!"

"Plans never change fast, do you still think it's when your dad is around?"

Mrs. Song gave her a stern look: "These things are changing too fast now, the original plan has to be advanced!"

"Mom!" Lianhua stood up suddenly: "I still—"

"You are no longer a child, and I will not continue to indulge your willfulness like before!"

"..." Opening her mouth, Lianhua sat down a little dejectedly, leaning on the bench.

Her eyes were a little blank, as if she couldn't find the focal length in a daze, and she didn't know what she was thinking.

Mrs. Song held the cup that was out of tea, silently maintained the posture of drinking tea, and slowly lowered her eyelids to cover up the complicated look in her eyes.

Butler Youzi stood behind Mrs. Song with his hands tied, watching all this with a blank expression——

Miss Fu is being reprimanded... Maybe that's not accurate.

But there is no doubt that in front of Mrs. Song, Miss Fu is absolutely in a weak position.

Even though she wanted to say something, as the housekeeper brought back by the Patriarch of the Song family, she couldn't deviate from her duties.

Youzi's butler's duty is to be only responsible to the Patriarch of the Song family——

It doesn't matter who the previous Patriarch of the Song Family was, and it doesn't matter who the Patriarch of the Song Family will be in the future.

Just look at the present, don't ask about the future.

But in the palms of her bound hands, she still silently pressed down her signature pen, tapping quite regularly.

Miss Fu, there are some things, I can only help you up to here...

Thinking so, she put away the signature pen, picked up the teapot next to her and refilled a cup of black tea for Mrs. Song, and whispered something in her ear.

But in Lianhua's view, everything in front of her is pulling away and gradually drifting away.

The scenes, those characters, and even the light from the window before her eyes became distant and unfamiliar, faintly sucked in by a black spot.

Until the last moment, she heard her own laughter.

It was a mocking laugh that was so arrogant that it was almost contemptuous——

"Ah……"

……

……

Songjia Manor Eighth Floor Station

Little Aunt Liguang was driving the car silently, while Aliya sat looking at her gossip mirror.

The commuter cars used inside the Song Family Manor are all golf carts—this thing is actually a simplified version of a car, with no technical content at all.

But it can't stand the golf cart. It's stylish, but it looks pretty good.

For example, Ao Guanhai used to like to drive a club car around the golf course. Although his skills are average, he has a lot of Feel.

Many people in China boast that golf is a sign of successful people. Playing a ball is dancing with elites. The moment you swing a golf club, you are a superior choice. A guy who bullies people with a lot of money.

These words all come from the hype in the golf industry, commonly known as exaggerating the style, making a high-brow attitude to dissociate from the mainstream society.

The effect is probably similar to that of a certain independent female noble Tian, ​​using her shallow background to provoke the public and win a lot of booing.

There is a golf course in the Song Family Manor, but it is a very hard-working one. You have to find it yourself and you have to take a sand pot to fill the grass marks.

It is said that when the Patriarch of the Song family occasionally had guests, he would use this to brush up his style and connect with him. Usually, it was just a big lawn for the maids to rest and have a picnic, and it didn't work at all.

Alia recalled the daily life of the little aunt of the Song family. It seems that she is so rich, and her hobby is to squat at home holding popcorn and watching Doraemon?

Apart from going shopping to buy a few clothes, Lianhua doesn't seem to have any other operations to show off their wealth - this family is quite simple except for their mental illness.

"What does Mrs. Song usually do?" Aliya was a little curious.

"Reading books, dealing with company affairs." Little Taoist nun Liguang stepped on the gas pedal with her short legs, and after thinking for a while, she added: "Occasionally watch TV dramas."

"The eight o'clock one? Or a daily soap opera?"

"Spy movie, made in China."

"Oh, so I like hardcore!"

"No, it's the love of Qiong Yao who likes these spy movies now."

"...It's really a unique hobby, haha..."

Aliya wiped the sweat that didn't exist on her forehead, and felt that there might be little common language between her and Mrs. Song.

Although she herself occasionally watched this kind of love, did she make a mistake in looking for Qiong Yao-style love in spy movies?

A message prompt popped up on the gossip mirror, which displayed a flashing Morse code.

"Hey, your message." Aliya didn't care, and passed the gossip mirror over.

But after the little Taoist nun Liguang glanced at it, a rare puzzled expression appeared on her small face, and she reached out and clicked the translation button next to her.

【The lady forced the young lady to sign the contract】

A nonsensical sentence, the sender is Yuko Butler.

Little Aunt Liguang stopped the golf cart with one foot, and fell into deep thought while holding the gossip mirror.

Aliya probed over: "What's wrong?"

Little Aunt Li Guang swiped the screen of the gossip mirror, and called a drone over: "Housekeeper Yuzi, let me pass the news to the master."

"whats the matter?"

"It should be..." Little Aunt Liguang pursed her lips, and called out the recent financial information of Song's Heavy Industry. Her eyes reflected the footnotes of the rapidly declining information on the screen, and her expression turned cold: "Property transfer contract..."

"???"

……

……

Song Family Manor·Reception Room

Mrs. Song raised her brows, looking at her daughter across the long table, her expression gradually became serious.

"What does your expression look like now?"

She yelled like this almost subconsciously, and the hand holding the teacup gently pushed the teacup on the table.

The teacup and the saucer were directly connected, and there was a not-so-light "crash--" sound of porcelain colliding, which was especially ear-piercing in the quiet living room.

But Lianhua just sat obliquely, raised her left hand to support the armrest of the bench, rested her chin with a fist in her hand, and looked at Mrs. Song across the long table in a leisurely manner.

That soft and charming eyes brought out a treacherous chill for no reason.

Butler Youzi frowned, feeling that something was wrong.

"If you think about it carefully, we haven't seen each other for a long time." Lianhua blinked playfully: "My good mother."

If it was a normal family, they just felt that their daughter was playing tricks again, so they laughed and cursed.

But Mrs. Song has been using the most stringent standards for Lianhua for more than ten years, and she has tried her best to look like a lady in terms of character and etiquette.

Seeing her tired and lazy appearance now, she was really furious: "Sit or not, you learned this way outside?!"

"Why do you feel comfortable? I'm not a child anymore. Mom, you still control me so strictly..."

"Hmph!" Mrs. Song snorted coldly: "It seems that you feel that you have grown up and your wings are stiff, so I can't control you anymore?"

"Look, we just can't communicate well." Lianhua raised her hand and looked at her nails: "It is said that the relationship between mother and daughter is like ten fingers connecting hearts. Mom, why can't you give me more time?"

"...Since you think you have grown up, it's time to leave!"

Mrs. Song took a deep breath, suppressed her anger, and reached out to Butler Youzi: "Contract."

Butler Youzi was silent for half a second, then said softly: "Madam..."

"Bring it!" Mrs. Song suddenly raised her voice: "Don't you even listen to what I'm saying now?!"

"..."

Butler Youzi took out a document from the safe at the side, but when handing it to Mrs. Song, he retracted his hand unconsciously.

Lianhua was amazed: "Mom, it seems that Housekeeper Youzi has a big opinion on you."

"Pay attention to your words and deeds!" Mrs. Song glanced over coldly: "I can understand your mentality, and I also know that it is normal for young people to have such arrogance, but you are not a child of ordinary people."

"Really?" Lianhua's eyes flickered, and she laughed at herself a little boringly: "I wish I was a child of an ordinary family."

"...When your father was your age, he had brought the entire Song family to an unprecedented height."

"Oh, but what does that have to do with me?"

"You are his daughter, there are some things you have to sacrifice, not only for the Song family, but also for your sister."

Speaking of Xiong Luoli, Mrs. Song's expression subconsciously softened a little.

But Lianhua frowned, her expression turned cold: "What if I don't agree?"

"I'm still the Patriarch of the Song Family! I! It's not you, Song Fuqu!" Mrs. Song directly snatched the contract from Butler Youzi, and slapped it on the table: "Don't try to provoke me with such childish means! You're not qualified to-"

"Then am I qualified?" A soft voice came from outside the living room.

It was a female voice, nice to hear, soft but not charming, sweet but not greasy, just one word - transparent.

Accompanied by the slight sound of wheels being crushed, Lu Wuchen, a Taoist nun in white, appeared at the door of the living room.

In an instant, everyone in the living room changed their faces.

Mrs. Song's face turned livid, as if she hadn't expected such an unexpected change.

Butler Youzi backed away without making a sound, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Before, Lianhua looked like she had suddenly become superior, but now she shrank subconsciously.

If it weren't for the difficult place to hide, she reckoned that she could just hide under the table.

The Taoist nun in white glanced across the living room, and then fixed on the stained glass window on the side of the living room.

After several seconds of silence, she sighed helplessly: "The glass window cannot be opened."