By late June, the weather was as hot as a steamer, baking people's faces red like shrimp.
Song Ci lifted the curtain and glanced outside, where mountains and forests stood on either side of the official road, and the heat waves hit her in the face from above the muddy ground.
She looked towards the guard beside the carriage and another horse, but didn't see her fourth son on horseback, so she huffed and lowered the curtain.
"It's really hot, even Fourth Lang couldn't stand it and got into the carriage." Song Ci leaned against a bamboo pillow, sighing comfortably.
Though she felt upset dressing like an old lady, at least she was a wealthy aristocratic old lady, not a poor one. If she were poor, old, and weak, she might as well wish to die quickly and return to the modern world.
Look at the present moment, isn't having money so wonderful?
