Ch 105: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

Yu Xiangan had always been interested in money-making ventures. Getting into daily chemical products—like shampoo or body wash—was no different from her other investments. Usually, she simply put up the capital or contributed resources to hold a percentage of shares. She didn’t involve herself in day-to-day management; that responsibility fell to whoever owned the larger stake.

However, she always ensured there were supervisors and trusted people watching her interests—otherwise, she might be cheated without even knowing it.

Not everyone in business played fair.

A few reliable overseers were far better than micromanaging everything herself.

Yu Xiangan hadn’t yet invested in daily-use chemical manufacturing, but she was tempted. The only question was: if Li Zhimu got involved, how much of a stake would he demand?

She preferred that Liang Yuan hold the largest share, not him.

Something about Li Zhimu unsettled her—maybe her sixth sense, or maybe the unease she felt seeing him with Ke Manyun.

Liang Yuan smiled lightly. “I’ll take sixty percent for myself, Anran will have ten percent, leaving thirty percent remaining.”

Li Zhimu turned to Yu Xiangan. “Then how about I take twenty percent?”

Yu Xiangan smiled faintly. “You’re all in such a hurry, aren’t you? I don’t know enough about this project yet.”

Then she added, “Though we haven’t known each other long, I can tell you’re not the type to make empty promises. Still, I’ll need to see a proper proposal.”

Liang Yuan covered her mouth and laughed. “You have such a way with words. Let’s meet again soon—I’ll bring the test reports and the business plan. That’s only proper. We all need to understand the framework first before discussing further.”

Li Zhimu smiled. “Then I’ll be waiting for Mrs. Chen.”

After they parted ways, Yu Xiangan turned the business card in her hand. “General Manager, Qiancheng Electronics. Is this part of his family’s business?”

Lu Anran nodded. “Yes, Qiancheng belongs to the Li family. I’ll have to ask around to see exactly which branch he’s from.”

Yu Xiangan frowned slightly. “Why was he so polite to Liang Yuan—calling her Mrs. Chen every time?”

Lu Anran sighed. “Her husband’s company is currently handling a project that the Li family’s been trying to get in on.”

That explained it.

Yu Xiangan asked, “What kind of person is he?”

Lu Anran said, “I’ll find out in detail. I haven’t dealt with him before. And that university classmate of yours—Ke Manyun, right? I’ll check on her too. I honestly can’t remember whether she was married before or not.”

After returning home, Yu Xiangan called Liu Mingyue to ask if she knew anything about Ke Manyun. When Liu heard that Ke was now in the Special Zone, she was surprised. “I had no idea. We haven’t spoken in ages. I’ll ask around.”

Later, Liu Mingyue called back. “Turns out she married a Hong Kong man and quit her job to take care of the family. So she’s in the Special Zone now.” She sighed. “All that education, and she gave it up. Such a waste. I heard she even has a child now. Did you see one?”

Yu Xiangan said, “No, I didn’t. Her figure’s still excellent—if she’d given birth recently, it’d show. I was surprised. After all this time, her aura hasn’t changed—still that same fragile, shy look. That’s common for schoolgirls, but she’s been working for years. I can’t imagine how she’s managed like that. Nobody at work has time to coddle someone like that.”

Liu Mingyue sighed. “Probably because someone’s always stepping up to defend her.”

Yu Xiangan paused. “A knight rescuing a damsel, huh? Well, it’s none of my business. Still… I have a feeling she’s going to come find me.”

Liu Mingyue laughed. “Let her. Doesn’t mean she’ll get what she wants. Are you really the type to care?”

Yu Xiangan shrugged. “You’re right. I don’t.”

She truly didn’t.

If Ke came, fine. If not, even better. She was irrelevant now—not worth the mental space.

Just as she hung up, another call came in—from Yun Jing.

“The property you told me to watch—is that still a go? You’d better be sure, this isn’t a small investment.”

Yu Xiangan said calmly, “I’m sure. Sister-in-law, go ahead and negotiate. What did the seller say about a discount?”

Shanghai’s first batch of commercial housing had just gone on sale—and Yu Xiangan wasn’t about to miss out.

She only needed one apartment for personal use. Her real target was the retail spaces.

Wuwei Restaurant hadn’t expanded to Shanghai yet, but it would soon. Better to secure the shop locations now.

“How many units do you plan to buy at once? What kind of discount?” Yun Jing asked, half in disbelief.

“I got them down to twenty percent off,” Yun Jing said finally. “Basic interior work included—it’ll save quite a bit.”

Yu Xiangan nodded. “That’s fine. I’ll take out a mortgage and pay interest monthly. As long as I keep up with the payments, it’s no problem.”

She was determined. Having visited Shanghai before, she knew—future rental prices there would be astronomical.

Even if business didn’t thrive, just owning property there would be pure profit.

Yun Jing hesitated. “You really think it’s that promising?”

At a little over two thousand yuan per square meter, even the smallest units totaled tens of thousands.

Yu Xiangan said, “Of course. Sister-in-law, I’ll catch the train tomorrow. We’ll talk details when I arrive. If you’ve got some savings, you should buy one or two units yourself—for the kids. No matter what they end up doing, they’ll always have rental income.”

Yun Jing was tempted. “Alright, we’ll talk when you get here.”

Why have Yun Jing handle it? Because the Yun family had local influence. That twenty-percent discount wasn’t just for bulk purchase—it was also because of her connections.

Once everything was arranged, Yu Xiangan set out for Shanghai with her team: Liu Sanbao, her assistant; Song Dong, her bodyguard; Sun Dongsheng, a top-performing manager from the Special Zone who would soon head the Shanghai branch; and Wang Li, a chef.

They were going to open new territory.

Other staff—servers, clerks, logistics workers—could be hired locally once they arrived.

The train ride to Shanghai was long. When they got there, Yun Jing was already waiting. Normally based in Yancheng, she had delegated the property search to her relatives, but since she was now thinking of buying too, she’d returned to Shanghai in person.

Yu Xiangan got straight to the point. “If you ask my opinion, it’s worth buying. I know you and Big Brother already have a home, but Qianjing’s about to reach marriage age. When he has kids, will there be enough space in Shanghai? If you buy retail property instead, you’ll never worry about rent. The monthly income could supplement your household. And for Yuejing, you could buy one too—it’d make a perfect dowry. A girl with her own property will always have confidence. Plus, the rent can help repay the mortgage—it’s self-sustaining.”

Convinced, Yun Jing agreed to go with her to the sales office.

The manager greeted them warmly and personally led the tour.

The complex was brand new and mostly empty. Few could afford such prices, and many who could were still hesitant.

But Yu Xiangan—buying multiple units outright—was a major client. They treated her like royalty.

With plenty of options still available, she picked the largest, best-located storefronts.

By the end, she had purchased three commercial units and one residential apartment—over six hundred square meters in total.

She didn’t pay in full, opting instead for a mortgage, though the down payment alone was substantial.

Yun Jing’s hands trembled watching her sign the contracts.

Before, from afar, she’d only known her sister-in-law was successful in business. But now, seeing that fearless decisiveness up close—the sheer audacity of it—she finally understood just how wealthy Yu Xiangan really was.

She wanted to buy property too, but she and her husband were both salaried workers with fixed incomes—it would be hard to afford.

Still, she truly wanted it. In the end, Yun Jing managed to buy two small commercial units of about ten square meters each, also through a mortgage.

Seeing how anxious and unsettled she looked, Yu Xiangan comforted her. “Don’t worry. Rent prices will definitely rise faster than your mortgage payments. The units already have basic renovations—once you find tenants, you can start earning immediately.”

The shops had indeed been simply renovated: the floors were leveled, the walls painted white, the wiring installed. They could even be lived in if someone wanted—just add furniture. The commercial units might need further decorating depending on the business type, but nothing too elaborate.

Yun Jing gave a bitter smile. “I’ve emptied out all our savings. If Qianjing suddenly said he wanted to get married right now, we wouldn’t even be able to afford the bride price.”

She’d even borrowed some money from her family to cover the down payment.

Yu Xiangan said, “Then rent them out as soon as possible. The earlier they’re rented, the earlier you’ll start seeing returns.”

Yun Jing nodded. “You’ll be running your business here—help me keep an eye on things. I’ll post rental notices when I get back.”

Yu Xiangan began arranging renovations for her own shops. Businesses in this district couldn’t look too cheap; people who could afford property here also had strong spending power. The decor had to reflect that—elegant and upscale.

For the other two shops, she scouted the surrounding area before deciding on their use.

One would be a high-end clothing boutique.
The other would be a premium beauty salon.

But those could wait—she would take things one step at a time and start with reopening the Wuwei Restaurant.

Meanwhile, Lu Anran helped her gather more details about Li Zhimu. He turned out to be the third son of the current president of Qiancheng Electronics. His two older brothers—one based in England, one in Hong Kong—had already inherited the major family businesses, leaving him to carve out his own path in the Special Zone.

He had married into a Hong Kong family before, where he had a son, and later, after moving to the mainland, married again—to Ke Manyun—with whom he now had a daughter.

Yu Xiangan went silent for a moment. “…So, Liang Yuan still wants to partner with him?”

Lu Anran nodded. “The Li family does have substantial capital. He wants the remaining thirty percent, but Liang Yuan isn’t too happy about that—she’s still considering.”

Yu Xiangan replied, “If this deal doesn’t work out, there’ll be others. My funds are tight right now.”

After coming to Shanghai, she’d realized how many business opportunities were everywhere. She wanted to secure her footing first before diving into something new. Entering the daily chemical industry could wait.

Lu Anran said, “Alright, I understand. I’ll let her know.”

Clatter, clatter! The Wuwei Restaurant was officially open.

Good methods never got old—as long as they worked. They launched with a grand opening celebration, complete with a raffle. The top prize: a bicycle.

Bicycles weren’t as coveted as they once were, but still, the restaurant offered them as a pair, alongside other prizes—digital watches, radios, and more.

It instantly drew a large crowd.

The raffle pulled people in; once they tried the food, many became regulars.

Watching the lively crowd, Yu Xiangan nodded with satisfaction.

Then she began setting up her clothing store.

The boutique had to be stylish and tasteful, the staff polished and professional, able to offer fashion advice. The store would target an upscale clientele, with imported watches, handbags, and accessories to complement the clothing. Customers could walk in and leave fully outfitted for a formal event.

Meanwhile, Yun Jing managed to rent out her two small shop units, finally breathing a sigh of relief. After asking Yu Xiangan to keep an eye on things, she hurried back to Yancheng for work—carrying the weight of her new mortgage on her shoulders.

Yu Xiangan stayed in Shanghai for more than two months.

She made one brief trip back to the Special Zone, but the rest of the time she stayed put, unable to relax until everything here was running smoothly.

The Special Zone businesses could run themselves—she had trained, reliable staff there—and if necessary, Lin Chuanbai or Yu Qingshan could step in.

In addition to stabilizing her businesses, Yu Xiangan also started purchasing stocks. The major boom wouldn’t come until 1990, but she knew that if she didn’t start gradually buying in now, it would be too late later.

When Yu Mansheng found out she was investing in stock subscription certificates, he decided to follow suit. Given her uncanny ability to make money, he trusted her instincts. He bought a few tens of thousands’ worth—not a huge amount, but not small either.

Some investors were spending hundreds of thousands or even millions, while others only a few hundred or a few thousand. His amount sat comfortably in the middle.

And as for “how many rich people could there possibly be” — in truth, there were many.

There were those who had profited directly from the early waves of reform and opening-up; those who had embezzled or manipulated state resources for private gain; those who risked their lives running trade with the Soviet Union; and those who had become rich through “dual-track” arbitrage and political connections.

These people might not look like entrepreneurs, but by acting as intermediaries and brokers, they earned fortunes behind the scenes.

There was no shortage of wealthy people.

For instance, a newly acquired plot of land in Shanghai had cost several million yuan. It would one day become prime real estate—worth its weight in gold.

Yu Xiangan found herself tempted, but eventually decided to wait.

Patience.

During her stay in Shanghai, her earlier hunch came true—Ke Manyun did try to find her. But each time she came, Yu Qingshan happened to be there. Polite but distant, he told her Yu Xiangan wasn’t available and saw her out.

After coming two or three times without success, Ke Manyun stopped trying. She still had her pride, after all.

Meanwhile, Lin Yuejing—Yun Jing’s daughter—had taken a liking to visiting Yu Xiangan’s restaurant after school.

Her aunt always spoiled her with new clothes and free meals. She loved watching the bustling crowd of customers and listening to their chatter—especially when they haggled over prices. It fascinated her endlessly.

Yu Xiangan could only sigh. “…What kind of hobby is that?”

As winter break approached, Yu Xiangan returned to the Special Zone. Before she left, Lin Yuejing called to ask if the twins were free. She and Lin Yining had become very close—inseparable during summer training, and dramatically tearful every time they had to part for school again.

Yu Xiangan said, “This winter break, they’ll be in Hong Kong.”

Lin Yuejing asked curiously, “What for?”

“Your second uncle enrolled them in an auditing program there—to sit in on classes and see how the schools teach.”

Lin Yuejing sighed wistfully. “Hong Kong, huh…” She’d never been there.

Yu Xiangan didn’t suggest bringing her along. Promising something uncertain to a child only to let them down later would do more harm than good.

Her parents both worked in the government sector, and with Hong Kong not yet returned to China, it wasn’t easy to arrange.

Lin Chuanbai wanted the twins to experience a different kind of education—to see the wider world.

Yu Qingshan and Wang Yongle would accompany them, and there were relatives—Yu Yegui and others—already in Hong Kong. Safety wasn’t a concern.

After Yu Xiangan returned, Lu Anran visited her. She explained that she, Liang Yuan, and Li Zhimu had officially launched their business. The final ownership split was 60% for Liang Yuan, and 20% each for Lu and Li.

Lu Anran asked, “You passed on that partnership, but how are things going in Shanghai? Was the profit worth it?”

Yu Xiangan nodded. “Easily. I’m netting over ten thousand yuan a month.” That was more than enough to cover her mortgage payments and still save toward buying more properties.

Lu Anran looked surprised. “Business is that good?”

Yu Xiangan smiled. “It is. The biggest earners in Shanghai right now are clothing boutiques—and high-end beauty salons too. Even if the clientele looks small, when they do come, each one’s a significant sale.”

Right now, Wuwei was actually earning the least profit of all her ventures. The restaurant’s business looked decent from the outside, but it still hadn’t met expectations. Still, Yu Xiangan thought, once Wuwei expanded, things would pick up. If after another six months it stayed the same, she planned to convert the space into a high-end Western restaurant that would better match the neighborhood’s consumer level and pricing.

Wuwei’s prices were still on the more affordable side.

Even so, the overall profits from her other ventures impressed Lu Anran. “At this rate, you’ll be able to pay off your loan in no time.”

Yu Xiangan smiled. “Yes, that’s the plan.”

Lu Anran asked, “So what’s next for you?”

Yu Xiangan replied, “I’m saving up. I’ll need the money soon.”

Lu Anran looked at her curiously. “Need it? So that’s why you haven’t started a new project lately—you’ve been waiting for something.”

Yu Xiangan laughed. “There’s one in the works already.”

“What kind of project?”

Yu Xiangan was planning to acquire Changyao Pharmaceutical Factory.

Qian San was one of the factory’s employees. He had worked there for over ten years. Originally, the factory had been a branch of a larger state-owned pharmaceutical company, but when space grew tight, they built a separate site locally, eventually splitting off to become an independent operation.

In the past, the factory’s benefits had been decent, but in recent years things had gone from bad to worse.

Qian San and his wife had five children. Nine people lived crammed together in a small twenty-square-meter apartment. His two eldest daughters were about to marry, which would free up a little space, but soon enough his sons would reach marriage age—and who would want to marry into such a situation?

He no longer even dreamed of that. Just keeping the household afloat felt like an accomplishment.

His elderly parents had small pensions that helped a little, but his wife didn’t work—she stayed home to care for the family. Their daily life depended entirely on his wages and the pensions. Things were painfully tight. When they used to have bonuses and benefits, it was manageable, but those were gone now. His parents’ pensions weren’t much, the children’s schooling was expensive, and he still needed to prepare dowries for his daughters. The weight of all this forced him to take odd jobs after work to earn a few extra yuan.

His parents tried to ease the burden however they could—picking discarded vegetable leaves from the market, or shopping late in the day when prices dropped. Meat was a rarity. They hadn’t bought any for quite some time.

For them, meat was a luxury—something only considered once everyone’s stomachs were filled.

His wife had once seen others making money from food stalls and tried it herself, but the venture ended quickly. Cooking for the family was one thing, but selling to the public required skill. Her food was ordinary home cooking—nothing bad, but nothing special. No one came back for it.

Since they lacked cooking skills, they switched to simpler work—buying farm eggs from rural vendors and selling them as tea eggs. It was easy but barely profitable. Still, a trickle of income was better than none.

Their life continued in this barely-surviving state—until things got even worse.

The factory hadn’t received new orders for months. Management announced that wages would be cut by one-third and that older workers close to retirement would be forced to retire early.

They even sold off one set of machinery.

Otherwise, the factory wouldn’t have survived the year.

The accounts were empty.

Qian San couldn’t believe it—how had things come to this?

When the decision was made public, it caused an uproar among workers, but there was nothing they could do.

In an attempt to save the situation, management launched a desperate initiative: any employee who could help sell off the stockpiled goods would receive a pay raise and promotion.

It didn’t work. Only a handful of goods were sold.

Then disaster struck—a fire broke out, destroying a batch of raw materials. It was a devastating blow.

Other factories were facing similar situations, but some at least had land to sell. Changyao didn’t. Their land was small, poorly located, and couldn’t fetch much—if it could even sell at all.

Every day, Qian San wore a look of worry and confusion. Could the factory ever recover?

They had already sold one set of machines—what would they sell next?

What would happen to the two or three hundred workers still depending on their wages?

When morale was at its lowest, a rumor began to spread: a foreign company was coming to inspect the plant, possibly planning to invest.

At first, everyone dismissed it as gossip—until management ordered everyone to clean up the premises and tidy their appearance.

If it were just a rumor, why go to all that trouble?

Suddenly, hope swept through the factory.

If outside investors came in, maybe they could purchase new production lines, develop new products, and finally sell again. The factory could be revived.

That day, everyone worked with renewed enthusiasm. Supervisors repeatedly reminded them not to slack off or embarrass the factory. “If this negotiation fails because of anyone,” they warned, “that person will be a traitor to us all.”

That morning, before leaving home, Qian San double-checked his clothes. When he was working on the line, he noticed some movement outside.

A group was approaching. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted several people—one of them blond and blue-eyed.

A foreigner.

His heart settled.

It was true—foreign capital was really here!

The factory director accompanied the group on the inspection tour, doing his best to present everything in the best possible light. But the visitors’ expressions remained composed, giving away nothing. The director couldn’t tell if they were pleased or unimpressed.

After the tour, he smiled broadly. “Why don’t we go to the conference room to talk further?”

They agreed. The fact that they were willing to sit down at all gave him hope. But his excitement was short-lived.

The investors’ very first demand was to dismiss the entire management team.

Dismiss management? That was unthinkable!

If management was removed—what would become of them?

🌱🌿 🫧🍃