Author Archives: Thingyan

Yu Xiangan had also noticed the same “money above all” phenomenon that Liu Mingyue mentioned. In the past, people were openly prejudiced against anyone doing business.

If a family started a private enterprise, neighbors would avoid them as though they carried a disease, refusing further contact. But now, once word got around that a family business was making money, those same people would smile brightly whenever they met, even if they gossiped behind closed doors.

Money could now buy nearly everything that was for sale in the market. Back then, wealth alone was useless—without ration coupons or state allocation, cash was nothing but paper in one’s hands.

Once the coupon system was abolished, everyone finally understood the true power of money. Money might not be omnipotent, but without it, nothing could be done.

This was the market economy: everything revolved around capital.

When asked if she had other motives besides the design competition, Yu Xiangan nodded. “Of course.”

It was the era of the overseas study boom. Even those who couldn’t get government scholarships were willing to self-fund their education abroad if their families could afford it. Families that could send children overseas were rarely poor. Living expenses abroad were far higher than at home, and some students intended never to return—selling their houses before leaving.

Yu Xiangan had her eye on one such property: a perfectly preserved siheyuan courtyard home within Beijing’s Second Ring Road.

A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

In just a few years, even with money, it would be impossible to buy one.

But since the deal wasn’t finalized yet, Yu Xiangan didn’t mention it. She preferred to wait until everything was settled—speaking too soon could invite trouble or unnecessary gossip.

So she simply smiled. “I also brought some gifts for the elders in my husband’s family. There are some matters to handle with the two children as well.”

Both Lin Duzhong and Lin Houping were living in the capital, so naturally, since she was here, she would visit.

Liu Mingyue asked, “What kind of gifts did you bring? Don’t forget about me. If it’s something good, I’ll pay for it—I can afford it now. You don’t still have any of that ginseng tonic wine, do you? I gave most of mine to my parents, and now I’ve got almost none left.”

That kind of thing was precious; once you shared it, getting more was difficult.

Yu Xiangan’s health supplements were rarely sold in the capital. Most of the stock had already been sold out in Yangcheng and distributed to the Special Economic Zone. She had only given some away as gifts in the capital, never for sale.

Liu Mingyue wanted to buy more but felt awkward asking for a gift, and though she could scrape together the money, there was no stock to buy—so she had no choice but to ask directly.

“Your supplement really works,” Liu Mingyue said. “But don’t you make anything cheaper? You only have those two products.”

One was the ginseng tonic wine, the other the ginseng vitality pills—both effective, both expensive.

Yu Xiangan spread her hands. “I’d love to, but what do you think, that kind of quality grows on trees? If I put out something mediocre, it’d ruin my reputation.”

She had, in fact, spent heavily to acquire several new traditional formulas from old physicians, but she hadn’t yet decided which would be viable.

“How much do you need? I’ll have someone send some over.”

“Then I won’t be polite…”

After sharing the water chestnut cakes Liu Mingyue had brought, the two women went out for a walk and a chat. Once they’d talked enough, they parted ways, and Yu Xiangan headed to the market to pick up some fresh ingredients.

When she returned to the Lin family’s housing compound, an older lady spotted the unfamiliar young woman entering with several shopping bags and asked her pregnant daughter-in-law, “Who’s that? I’ve never seen her before.”

The daughter-in-law, who had only recently moved in to rest during her pregnancy, had learned most of the residents by face. She glanced at Yu Xiangan and said, “She looks familiar, but I can’t place her. I’ll ask around later.”

People in the compound always knew who was visiting whom.

Back home, she asked her husband, “Has anyone new been around the compound lately?”

He thought a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, I saw this young woman—about twenty-something—carrying several large bags. The gate guard didn’t stop her, so she must be familiar with the place.”

“You didn’t see which house she went into?”

“No.”

“Twenty-something…” Her husband frowned. “Maybe she’s a newly hired housekeeper?”

“Impossible. Did you see her clothes? No housekeeper dresses like that. Everything on her looked expensive and proper.”

“What did she look like?”

“Very pretty.”

He shook his head. “No idea.”

A woman in her twenties shouldn’t have been there—at least, not that he could recall.

He didn’t realize that if his wife had known Yu Xiangan’s actual age, she would have recognized her immediately. Her youthful appearance made it easy to mistake her for someone much younger.

When Yu Xiangan arrived home, she set the bags down. The housekeeper came to help unpack and asked how to prepare the ingredients.

Yu Xiangan instructed, “Blanch the shrimp, steam the fish, and make soup with the pork tripe.”

All light, healthy dishes. Lin Duzhong was elderly, so his food had to be soft and mild, low in oil and salt.

He’d always maintained excellent habits. As a doctor himself, he knew how to care for his body, and though old, he looked like he could live for many more years.

The housekeeper took note and began cleaning and preparing the food.

Hearing the commotion, Lin Duzhong came out from his room, where he’d been reading.

“Xiang’an, you’re back.”

“Yes, Grandpa, I’m back.”

“How was your meeting with your old classmate? You haven’t seen her in a long time, I imagine there was plenty to talk about.”

At his age, few old friends remained—one had to be lucky to live long enough and still be in the same city. Most of his peers in the compound spent their days babysitting grandchildren; only a few, now free of such duties, could still enjoy chess or fishing together.

Yu Xiangan smiled. “Yes, it’s been ages. It felt nice to talk face-to-face for once. You can chat on the phone, but it’s not the same—some conversations just flow better in person.”

Lin Duzhong chuckled. “I thought so. Do you have anything else to do today? If not, let’s talk for a bit.”

Yu Xiangan sat down. “It’s been a while since we’ve chatted, Grandpa. What do you want to talk about?”

Clearly, he had something on his mind.

Lin Duzhong said, “Even though you live down south, I’ve heard quite a bit about your work. You’re capable—a fine child.” His face showed quiet pride.

Though calling her a “child” wasn’t exactly accurate—after all, she had twin children of her own—by his age and generation, it was fitting. Yu Xiangan was his granddaughter-in-law.

Not sure what he wanted to say, she simply listened.

“You’re talented, and my grandson is lucky to have married you,” he said. “Times have changed. Back then, money mattered, but there were limits—many things couldn’t be bought. Now it’s different. Money has become essential, and no one can deny it. With enough money, almost anything is possible. And in our family, you’re the one earning the most.”

“I’m proud of you—but I also worry for you.”

He paused, then continued. “One of my chess partners, old Chen, is nearly seventy. He retired long ago and has been helping care for his grandchild. Now that the boy’s in middle school and doesn’t need him as much, we’ve become chess and fishing buddies. His family’s situation is a lot like ours…”

“His daughter-in-law used to be a temporary worker,” said Lin Duzhong. “Later she was laid off, and the family went through a hard stretch. She started selling clothes with others just to get by, and when she saw how good the money was, she went south and started a clothing business of her own. She opened a shop back home with her brothers and sisters—she traveled to buy goods while they ran the storefront. They earned quite a bit. There are many cases like this now.”

Yu Xiangan nodded. “Yes. If she’s traveling down to the Special Economic Zone to buy clothes in bulk, that’s tough. Spending all that time on trains isn’t easy.”

Lin Duzhong agreed. “Right, it’s not. Later she began shipping directly from the Zone, and her family just picked the goods up at the train station. That gave her a bit of rest. But some time ago, old Chen fell ill and was rushed to the hospital. I only heard afterward. Someone in the old part of town where he lives posted photos of his daughter-in-law with another man—someone else’s husband.”

Yu Xiangan said nothing. It wasn’t rare. Life had been so hard before that people pinched every penny; now that some could live comfortably without struggling for money, a few lost themselves in temptation.

Lin Duzhong went on, his voice heavy. “Old Chen’s two grandchildren were hit hard. One failed the high-school entrance exam, the other attempted suicide. It’s not clear if they’ll ever recover.”

He sighed. “Before all this, I used to hear him praise his daughter-in-law as an exceptional woman. People change so fast—maybe that’s the lure of money.”

Yu Xiangan said quietly, “Those children have it rough. Growing up in an environment like that, it’s hard to move on. The gossip alone will linger for years.”

“Exactly,” Lin Duzhong said. “Old Chen’s planning to sell his house and move in with his younger son. If they can hide what happened, maybe the kids can breathe for a while. But, Xiangan, you handle money that’s many times more than she ever saw, and the temptations you face are many times greater. I just hope you and Chuanbai both hold fast to your values and keep a peaceful home. Don’t end up like them. Thank heavens that child survived—otherwise it would have been a lifelong regret. I’ve watched you and Chuanbai from the start. You love each other; I know that, and I’m glad. Mutual understanding isn’t easy. Back at the university he lived in a simple world, but now that he’s out in society, he’ll face temptations too. I’ll talk to him as well. At my age, I don’t ask for much—just family harmony. A harmonious home brings prosperity.”

He added, “Old Chen’s son and daughter-in-law were apart for too long. If they’d gone south together, maybe things wouldn’t have ended like this.”

Yu Xiangan fell silent. She and Lin Chuanbai didn’t see each other every day, but their contact was frequent. They were both busy, yet they trusted each other completely.

She nodded. “I understand, Grandpa. My relationship with Chuanbai is steady. We’re both busy, yes, and that means more temptations, but if one’s will is firm, that’s not a problem. We’ve earned a lot, but there are things money can’t buy—like love. Old Chen’s daughter-in-law will regret it someday.”

Lin Duzhong inclined his head. “I think so too. But it’s too late—the damage is done. I’m glad you see clearly. Don’t let money blind you; otherwise a person stops being themselves.”

Then he smiled. “Don’t mind me for meddling, now. I heard you mention pork tripe—what good dishes are you making?”

The conversation lightened instantly.

Yu Xiangan said, “I bought some shrimp, some fish, and one pork tripe.”

The mood relaxed at once.

Lin Duzhong thought for a moment. “I remember there’s still some beef and spare ribs in the fridge. That’s a feast! Are we dining like the rich tonight?”

Just then Li Yujiao came home. She still held a position, though an easy one—essentially a retirement post. She clocked in and out, collected her pay, and was free most of the time. But staying home bored her, so she preferred to work a bit, have something to do, and chat with colleagues.

She was carrying a roasted duck.

Seeing it, Lin Duzhong laughed. “Xiangan brought dishes, and you brought dishes—tonight’s dinner is too rich! We’ll never finish it.”

There were only four of them including the housekeeper; no way they could eat it all.

Yu Xiangan smiled. “Then we’ll save half for tomorrow.”

At the same time, Li Yujiao said, “Dad, you just said the household’s small—that’s why Tian Dong should come back soon, marry a wife, and have a baby. Then the family will be bigger, and even a big meal like this will get finished.”

Lin Duzhong chuckled. “You’re preaching to the wrong person. Go tell him! A man should marry, a woman should wed—if he has someone in mind, he’d better act quickly, or the good ones will be taken. If not, let his superiors or you introduce someone.”

He was open-minded about such things. Li Yujiao’s urgency amused him, and he humored her, but he himself never pressured Lin Tiandong to marry.

To him, Tiandong was still young. And besides, Lin Duzhong already had great-grandchildren; there was no rush.

Their perspectives simply differed. He could view it calmly; she could not.

Li Yujiao had only this one son. She wanted him to marry well while Lin Houping still held his position—ideally a wife who could help his career and stand firmly on his side.

Yu Xiangan said nothing. She didn’t think Tiandong’s delay mattered, but if she said so, it would sound like she was speaking from comfort, not empathy. Yet she didn’t want to agree just to please Li Yujiao either. Silence was safest.

But Li Yujiao wouldn’t let it go. “Xiangan, you and Tiandong went to the same university. Don’t you know any junior classmates you could introduce? Same alma mater, they’d have things in common.”

Then she remembered something. “Didn’t you just organize some competition there? There must’ve been lots of participants, right?”

Yu Xiangan replied, “Yes, but that was for architecture—and most of the contestants were men.”

That was true.

Li Yujiao sighed in disappointment. She wasn’t reckless enough to ask Yu Xiangan to play matchmaker for her stepson—she’d vet any candidate herself first.

Yu Xiangan had no intention of getting involved. Helping to find a girlfriend for a stepson? That was asking for trouble.

She said evenly, “I think this is really up to him. Does Tiandong want a like-minded partner in the same field, or a fellow alumna? Personality matters too—whether she’s lively, shy, optimistic, or straightforward. You have to know what kind he likes before you can find a good match. Marriage is for life; it can’t be decided lightly.”

Li Yujiao glanced sideways at her. “You’re right,” she admitted with a sigh. “I know that, but his attitude’s no good. Everything I say just goes in one ear and out the other.”

That was why she hoped Yu Xiangan might talk to him. They were alumni, peers, easier to relate.

Just then came a soft click at the door—the sound of it opening. Lin Houping had come home.

By the time they finished talking, the housekeeper had nearly completed dinner.

Lin Houping walked in and said, “That’s a lot of dishes. Are we having a feast tonight?”

Lin Duzhong chuckled. “Yes, these dishes are from Xiangan. The roast duck is what your wife brought back. With everything together, it’s quite the spread. There’s still food in the fridge—otherwise we’ll never finish all this.”

Once the fish was served, Lin Duzhong immediately picked up his chopsticks. He liked steamed fish—soft, easy to chew, and gentle on the stomach.

After dinner, Lin Houping asked to speak privately with Yu Xiangan and led her into the study.

Li Yujiao watched them go, displeased.
What could they have to discuss that she couldn’t hear?

The person Lin Houping wanted to talk about was Wen Yizhen. The reason was simple—he’d just been promoted and was about to become the city mayor.

“At this rate,” Lin Houping said, “who knows how far he might go.”

He didn’t say it outright, but his meaning was clear: How are your second brother and his brother-in-law getting along? And what about you and him?

Yu Xiangan nodded. “My second brother and sister-in-law have a good relationship with him. Back when life was hard for them, my brother helped a lot. When did this promotion happen? I haven’t heard.”

“Not announced yet,” Lin Houping said. “But it will be soon—within the next few days.”

“That’s wonderful news,” said Yu Xiangan sincerely.

She was truly happy for Wen Yizhen. Beyond being family, he had once helped during her brother’s difficulties—going out of his way to make inquiries from afar. That was genuine kindness.

Now that she heard he was being promoted, she didn’t plan to ask him for favors. On the contrary, she hoped all her relatives—even the ones she seldom saw—would live better and better lives.

They might walk different paths, but everyone was striving toward the future.

Then she asked, “Any news about Big Brother?”

She meant Lin Guangbai. He’d held his current position for several years.

At the mention of his name, a faint smile tugged at Lin Houping’s lips before it faded again. “If things go smoothly for him, it’ll happen soon. There’s been talk about converting his district into a city. No one knows if it’s true.”

“If that rumor exists,” said Yu Xiangan, “then there must be something behind it. If it’s true, then congratulations are in order, even in advance.”

She didn’t believe it was just gossip. Lin Houping wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise. It was almost certainly confirmed.

Another piece of good news.

…

Yu Xiangan eventually spent several hundred thousand yuan to purchase that courtyard house. It wasn’t huge, but the location was superb. It was mostly empty inside, with only a few old pieces of furniture.

To make it livable, it would need major work—electrical rewiring, air conditioning, a refrigerator, and so on.

She didn’t plan to live there right away, so she only hired people to do essential repairs and maintenance, keeping the structure intact. That way, she could move in anytime later, or renovate further when ready.

After finalizing the purchase, Yu Xiangan went to her brother Yu Xinyan’s house for dinner.

He looked envious. “I had my eye on a courtyard too, but the asking price was way too high. I’ve made some money from investments—enough for a regular country house—but places like yours? I can only drool over them. I’ll have to save more, maybe buy a smaller one first.”

Yu Xinyan was doing well—he had a salary, side investments, and some real estate. He joked that if his area ever got redeveloped, he might wake up rich one day.

His wife, Wen Ruzhen, was glowing with happiness. Yu Xiangan noticed and asked about it.

Wen Ruzhen smiled. “My younger brother just got promoted. I’m really happy for him.”

The siblings had always been close. Whenever something happened, Wen Yizhen never forgot to tell his sister.

Yu Xinyan grinned. “My brother-in-law’s impressive, isn’t he?”

Yu Xiangan raised her thumb. “Of course he is. So what about you—time to keep up?”

Yu Xinyan rubbed his nose sheepishly. “Hey, I’m doing fine too. But the key is knowing one’s limits. Some things others can do, I can’t. And some things I can do, they can’t. You agree, right?”

Wen Ruzhen laughed, “He’s doing just fine the way he is.”

Yu Xiangan paused. “…”

There it was—that sweet couple energy again. She wasn’t in the mood to watch them feed each other compliments, so she quickly changed the subject. “How’s Xiyi doing at university? Adjusting well?”

At that, Wen Ruzhen burst out laughing, clutching her stomach, while Yu Xinyan’s face darkened in exasperation.

Yu Xiangan grew curious. “What happened?”

“When she was in high school,” said Wen Ruzhen, still laughing, “we told her no dating. She obeyed and focused on studying. But once she got into university, we relaxed a little. Then one day, when we went to visit, there was a big crowd outside her dorm—some boy was confessing his love in public! Your brother went over to stop it, but the boy thought he was cutting the line to confess first and told him to wait his turn! Said he’d already been in line for half a month and wouldn’t let him cut unless he wanted a fight! Hahaha!”

She laughed so hard she could barely breathe. “Your brother almost lost his temper right there!”

Yu Xiangan couldn’t hold back her laughter either. “What happened next?”

“Then the dorm manager came out to break it up,” Wen Ruzhen said between chuckles. “We told her we were Xiyi’s parents, but she didn’t believe us. Only when she called Xiyi down did she realize we were telling the truth. You should’ve seen that poor boy’s face!”

Yu Xiangan burst into laughter. “What a scene! So did things calm down afterward? Fewer boys chasing her?”

“Fewer? Not really,” said Wen Ruzhen. “Your brother even went to the faculty office to have them make a campus announcement. It helped a bit. But now he’s terrified she’ll bring home a son-in-law someday.”

It wasn’t hard to see why—Xiyi had inherited her uncle’s looks, stunningly beautiful. A campus full of admirers was inevitable, but the story was far more dramatic than Yu Xiangan had expected.

Yu Xinyan glared at his laughing sister. “Go ahead, laugh. You have a daughter too. Let’s see if you’ll still laugh when the boys start hovering around her.”

He’d raised that girl all these years—how could those punk boys dare to covet her? They must have a death wish!

Wen Ruzhen rolled her eyes. “She’s going to get married someday, you know.”

“Exactly,” said Yu Xiangan with a grin. “I’m much more relaxed about it than you are.”

Yu Xinyan scowled. “Oh yeah? Let’s see if you’re still so calm when the time comes. How can you hand your daughter to a stranger?”

Yu Xiangan shrugged. “Why not? Marriage isn’t exile. It’s not like the old days—you don’t lose touch for decades. She’ll be right under my nose. Even if she moves far, I can hop on a plane or drive over. If she’s unhappy, I’ll bring her home. With our family behind her, she’ll be just fine.”

Yu Xinyan said earnestly, “Then why not let Xiyi’s husband join our family instead?”

Wen Ruzhen nearly choked. “Oh, stop talking nonsense! What decent man would agree to be a live-in son-in-law? The kind who would—you wouldn’t want for your daughter anyway! And if my father or brother had that mindset, do you think you’d have married me?”

“That’s different!” said Yu Xinyan indignantly.
When he was the young suitor, he couldn’t wait to win his bride. Now as a father, he wanted to chase every young man off the planet.

Yu Xiangan doubled over laughing.

Her second brother’s life was anything but dull. With two daughters, his future headaches were only beginning.

Besides visiting them, Yu Xiangan also made the rounds to see other acquaintances—people who had helped her back in university when she first came to the capital, like Zhao Li, her former advisor Wu Zhusheng, and Lin Chuanbai’s old mentor.

Meanwhile, the design competition had moved into the semifinal stage. The unqualified entries had been screened out, leaving eight contestants to compete for the final rankings.

Such detailed design work would take time, so Yu Xiangan couldn’t expect the finished plans immediately. While waiting, she made a trip to the Northeast—to visit Qin Shenghua and connect with new suppliers for medicinal herbs.

Among the new formulas she had purchased, one was finally showing promise—but it required a special herb native to the Northeast.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

When Yu Xiangan mentioned cicada flowers, the others were momentarily confused, unsure what that was. Chen Xiaoyang, however, reacted first — it was those strange, fungus-covered cicada shells that sometimes appeared in the bamboo groves.

“Yes! Yes, we have them too,” she said quickly. She vaguely remembered they were used in medicine.

Cicada flowers were indeed valuable — they lowered cholesterol and blood pressure, nourished the liver, brightened the eyes, and even had anti-tumor effects. It was a medicinal ingredient often compared to Cordyceps sinensis.

Chen Xiaoyang’s eyes widened. So their village had this kind of treasure too!

After admiring the sea of bamboo for a while, Yu Xiangan dug up a few shoots at random and brought them to Chen Xiaoyang’s house. There, they cooked them together. After tasting the fresh, crisp flavor, Yu Xiangan immediately placed an order.

Once preparations were made, she made a phone call — soon, staff from her factory would come to purchase directly. Just like that, the bamboo shoots from this whole mountainside were sold.

Everything went smoothly — no complications, no delays.

The entire village was overjoyed.

With this new source of income, they could finally repair the roads and the school.

It was a big, wonderful thing.

They even signed an official contract right there in Chen Xiaoyang’s home. Chen was so excited she could hardly keep still. Even her mother, seeing her surrounded by village leaders and officials, couldn’t stop smiling — completely forgetting how she had scolded her daughter before.

Now she only felt proud. The villagers would look at their family with new respect; after all, it was her daughter who had made this connection happen. With the money they’d earn, the muddy village road could finally be paved, the leaking school walls repaired, and the broken desks and benches replaced.

Chen Xiaoyang was glowing with happiness. When she caught her mother’s approving look, she let out a breath of relief. Finally, maybe her mother would stop nagging her about marriage. Right now, she was on the brink of promotion and success — marriage could wait.

Sure enough, not long after she returned to the factory, her transfer notice came. She had been promoted.

After her promotion, her mother quieted down, no longer pestering her about finding a husband — too busy joining the villagers in harvesting bamboo shoots and sharing profits instead.

The village decided to divide part of the earnings among the residents and use the rest to fund road and school repairs.

They began caring for the bamboo forests more carefully, even transplanting new shoots onto barren hills to expand the groves. In a few years, new bamboo forests would grow there. Living by the mountains meant living off them — they had no great mountains or seas, only these bamboo-covered hills.

During the hard years, these mountains had kept the villagers alive. Now that they could eat and live comfortably, the same bamboo was helping them earn money. They knew better than to destroy their source of livelihood; if they took care of it, future generations would continue to prosper from it.

*

Meanwhile, Lin Chuanbai had begun recreating the medicines he had once developed in the past. The drugs his team submitted for approval drew attention — their productivity earned them praise.

They weren’t miracle cures for rare or terminal diseases, but essential daily medicines — cold, cough, and fever remedies, treatments for common infant ailments, and everyday products like medicated oils, burn ointments, mosquito repellents, and floral water.

Lin Chuanbai’s goal was clear: he wanted his pharmaceutical line to fill every household’s medicine cabinet and become part of daily life.

The researchers who had followed him from the university were just as satisfied. At Changyao, their salaries had improved, but even more importantly, they finally had unrestricted access to lab equipment.

At the university, instruments had to be shared by rotation, and senior professors always took priority. Here, it was different — anyone could apply and schedule time as needed, no hierarchy, no interference. New equipment kept arriving, and if things continued this way, their research department might soon surpass the university’s entire pharmaceutical lab network in both quantity and quality.

For researchers, instruments were like knives to chefs — indispensable tools.

Though drug testing and approval took time, they were confident this foundation would secure their place in the industry.

Yu Xiangan’s ventures spanned many fields, but her most widespread success still came from her seasoning packets.

Gao Yaping’s family had been living in the Philippines for over twenty years. When they first arrived, life was difficult and money was tight. Now, they ran a small Chinese restaurant in the local Chinatown, serving home-style Chinese dishes and local fusion meals — rice bowls topped with stir-fries or curries that locals loved.

Chinese customers came for the familiar flavors of home, while Filipinos came for the exotic “foreign” twist that still suited their taste.

Their positioning was perfect — and they stuck to it.

The head chef was Gao’s mother. She hadn’t been much of a cook before, but ever since she bought a batch of Wuwei seasoning packets, her cooking had improved dramatically.

No need to spend hours blending spices — just follow the ratios, add salt and water, and the dish turned out beautifully.

Even Gao himself could cook now.

For example, they’d use a bag of Wuwei hotpot base to boil chicken wings and drumsticks, toss in some vegetables, then ladle everything over rice — an attractive, flavorful rice bowl.

Their family often ate this way themselves.

Before opening the restaurant, they had done hard labor — hauling cargo, sweeping streets, taking whatever jobs no one else wanted. If they didn’t work, they didn’t eat.

Once the restaurant opened, they slowly quit those jobs and focused entirely on running it.

Imported goods weren’t yet flooding the market, so as long as trade barriers remained, their restaurant kept a competitive edge. Locals didn’t know where to buy those sauces and spices, and even if they did, few had the patience to make them. That meant the business could keep thriving.

It was their livelihood, and they had grown deeply loyal to the Wuwei brand.

Whenever new products were released, they’d buy some right away to test new recipes.

This time, Gao brought home a large batch of spicy vermicelli and the newly launched pickled bamboo shoot packets. The bamboo shoots were an instant hit — many customers came specifically asking for them, boosting the restaurant’s sales even more.

…

Because the pharmaceutical plant was in Yangcheng, Lin Chuanbai sometimes brought the twins over to spend time there, letting them observe.

He didn’t make them do any real work — he didn’t want to affect their studies — but they could do homework, make friends, or simply watch the researchers at work.

Soon, Lin Yining found a new friend.

Ye Jingjing, the daughter of one of the researchers, lived in the factory dorms with her father after her mother passed away. She was two years younger than Yining.

Yining had many friends, but her closest ones were two boys — Fatty Chen Yi and Wang Lipan.

It wasn’t that she only befriended boys because of looks; Wang Lipan happened to be handsome, but Chen Yi was completely ordinary.

She wasn’t without female friends either — she got along well with her classmates — but she didn’t have that one inseparable, “tell-everything” best friend. As she put it, “There’s always just a bit of distance. It’s not as easy to relax.” So she didn’t force it.

But this little girl was different — she had a round, apple-shaped face, shy and soft-spoken, and blushed easily. Especially when she ate, she looked just like a tiny hamster nibbling on food. Watching her made Lin Yining’s heart flutter uncontrollably; she always felt an urge to feed her something.

Before long, every time she came over, she would bring snacks in her bag — beef jerky, biscuits, dried squid, flower pastries, candy… Watching Ye Jingjing eat filled her with pure satisfaction.

Ye Jingjing’s father was an absent-minded man. He thought his daughter was old enough to look after herself, so he left her alone most of the time, buried in his lab work. When she was hungry, she ate at the cafeteria; if she wanted something, he left her money at home. Essentially, she was being raised on autopilot.

Once Lin Yining learned this, her heart ached for her. They went to the same school — Ye Jingjing was two grades lower — and their schedules mostly overlapped. So from time to time, Lin Yining would go find her and invite her along to play.

At school, Ye Jingjing was practically invisible. The only reason people remembered her at all was her decent grades; otherwise, she was the kind of student you might forget existed.

One day at dinner, Lin Yining told her father, “Dad, don’t you think you’re working them too hard? Jingjing’s father doesn’t even have time to take care of her. Yesterday was her birthday — she spent it all alone. It was so quiet. Her dad didn’t even come home last night; she waited for him in the living room until she fell asleep on the couch.”

Lin Chuanbai frowned when he heard his daughter’s “complaint.”

“Alright,” he said, “I understand.”

He wasn’t familiar with every researcher’s personal situation, so he asked around — and soon learned that Ye’s father was one of those “lab maniacs” who practically lived in the lab and hated to leave.

After asking further, Lin Chuanbai realized there were quite a few like him. But since most of them had family members at home, their children were still looked after. He decided to create a new position — someone specifically assigned to remind these obsessive researchers to eat, rest, and take care of themselves.

A healthy body was the foundation of good research.

When Lin Yihong heard about this, he felt his sister had missed the point. “Shouldn’t the main issue be that her father is neglecting his family? Dad hired them to work hard — that’s a good thing. But he’s failed to balance work and home life. He needs to realize that himself. That’s what Dad should talk to him about.”

Lin Yining sighed, a little frustrated. “I know that, but he doesn’t listen to me. That’s why I hoped Dad could talk to him and maybe make things better.”

She had tried talking to Ye’s father, but she suspected he hadn’t heard a word she said. It was disheartening.

Still, once Lin Chuanbai intervened, things improved. Ye’s father was genuinely ashamed. He knew he had neglected his daughter, but once he got caught up in experiments, he just couldn’t stop. With someone now reminding him to rest and eat, his health — and his attention to his daughter — improved. After all, a strong body was the foundation for a lifetime of research.

…

Meanwhile, Yu Mingyao was in low spirits. Ever since that night at the dance hall, when she and her three roommates stayed at her house, one of them — Yi Zhuzhu — had become friendlier toward her. But soon, a new rumor spread: people said she was being kept by a rich man — because Lin Chuanbai had come to pick her up by car.

Her roommates knew he was her uncle by marriage, but outsiders didn’t. The story spread and twisted until people were whispering that she had a wealthy “sugar daddy.”

Yu Mingyao was furious. No matter how much she tried to explain, no one wanted to believe her. They probably knew it was ridiculous, but gossiping about someone else’s scandal gave them a thrill.

Thankfully, no one mentioned her name directly. Eventually, the rumor drifted so far from the truth that even Yu Mingyao could only sigh and let it go. Still, it left a bitter taste in her heart.

Besides the rumor, news had also spread that she had wealthy relatives.

When she joined the student union, some students saw an opportunity. Whenever they needed sponsors for events, they came knocking.

“Mingyao, I know you’re not from our department, but we’re short on funds. Can you help us out? Don’t you have a relative who runs a business? This kind of money’s nothing for them.”

Yu Mingyao wasn’t in the outreach department, and she didn’t like people overstepping roles, so she refused. They weren’t even close. But it didn’t stop there — they came back a second, third time.

It was exhausting.

Yi Zhuzhu, watching this, rolled her eyes. “Don’t think of it as them mooching off your relatives. Sponsorships build reputation and recognition. You know companies pay for advertising, right? If your relatives want to recruit people in the future, having name recognition helps. More students will want to work for them. You should think bigger — seriously, what a small-minded, narrow view.”

Yu Mingyao’s face darkened. The first half almost made sense, but the second half? Completely unnecessary. She could barely hold her temper. Would it kill her to say things nicely?

Without those last two sentences, it might’ve sounded like friendly advice — but with them, it was just sharp-tongued insult. Words could wound deeply, even in summer.

Yu Mingyao stormed off and walked two furious laps around campus before she calmed down enough to return. When she did, she said sweetly, “I thought about what you said. You’re right. Thank you for the reminder — I’ll talk to my uncle about it.”

Yi Zhuzhu sniffed. “I wasn’t reminding you. I just can’t stand people being that stupid.”

Yu Mingyao: “…”

Deep breath. She wasn’t going to get angry.

When Lin Chuanbai heard about it, he nodded. “Sponsorship, huh? Do you know how much they need? Give me a number.”

Then he turned to Lin Yihong. “Write up a note explaining the details.”

Seeing how readily he agreed, Yu Mingyao asked, “Uncle, does sponsorship really help? Like, can it actually boost their reputation?”

Lin Chuanbai smiled. “Of course. For example, if we sponsor it under the Wuwei Restaurant name, we’ll provide banners or slogans. Your classmates will see the name. Those who’ve never been might get curious and try it. Those who have been will feel proud — like, ‘Hey, I knew this place before it got popular.’ Others will just find it familiar and think they have good taste. It all increases recognition and promotes business.”

Yu Mingyao had refused before because she thought it was pointless — just throwing money away. But now she realized she’d misunderstood. It actually had value.

Lin Chuanbai continued, “It depends on the size and reach of the event. If attendance is high, a bigger sponsorship is worth it. But if turnout is small, spending too much would be a loss.”

Yu Mingyao felt enlightened. Lin Yihong and Lin Yining listened intently too.

Lin Chuanbai gave them some books on economics, encouraging them to read. “Study first — but when you have time, broaden your horizons. Learning more never hurts. If you can truly understand what you read, this path will be open to you too.”

When Yu Xiangan returned to Yangcheng, Lin Yining brought along her new little friend. “Mom,” she said brightly, “this is my new best friend! Isn’t she the cutest thing ever?”

Ye Jingjing shyly lowered her head, then lifted it again with quiet courage, looking at Yu Xiangan. Her voice was small but clear. “Hello, Auntie.”

Yu Xiangan smiled. “Hello. Jingjing, right? I hope you and Yining get along well.” The girl was so gentle, timid, and adorable that it was easy to like her instantly.

After asking about her favorite foods, Yu Xiangan made sure to prepare dishes she would enjoy.

In Jingjing’s life, there was no womanly presence—just her father and her teachers. Her father, being absent-minded, often left her to take care of herself.

Now, with Yu Xiangan’s warmth and attention, she looked radiant with happiness, her cheeks flushed pink.

Seeing this, Lin Yining couldn’t help reflecting—maybe she herself had been given too much, and that was why she sometimes forgot to cherish it. Looking at Jingjing, then at herself, the thought only grew stronger.

Whether a person is outgoing or reserved, interacting with others often reveals traits in oneself that usually go unnoticed. As the saying goes, “Among any three people, there is always one who can be my teacher.”

That kind of reflection was its own form of learning.

After Jingjing left, Lin Yining sat beside Yu Xiangan and clung to her arm. “Mom, you haven’t come by in a while. What have you been busy with?”

Yu Xiangan stroked her hair. “Mom’s been busy picking a new location for the factory. We’re planning to relocate.”

Lin Yining was startled. “Why? Isn’t the current site big enough?”

Yu Xiangan shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s that the current land will be more valuable later. There’s no need for a factory to sit in a prime commercial district. Once we move out, the land can be used for a plaza, hotels, a food court, office buildings—anything.”

If her new factory location later developed into a thriving area, she could move again. Each relocation would mark a wise decision; only a stagnant, valueless site would stay the same.

Besides the new factory, Yu Xiangan was also building office towers. She knew how property values would skyrocket in the future. To her, not buying or developing more now while prices were low would be sheer waste.

Especially office buildings in the heart of the Special Economic Zone—those would someday rent for hundreds of thousands, even millions, per floor each month.

Lin Yining gasped. “Wow. So how are you going to design the new factory? Have you decided yet?”

“Not yet,” Yu Xiangan replied. “I plan to consult professionals.” She wanted to hire proper planners to design the site.

In her early startup days, building the factory at all was enough—no one cared about layout. Now she saw flaws in the old design: inefficient space, redundant sections. This time, with both money and time, she wanted it done right.

Yu Xiangan had already formed a plan. She turned to Lin Chuanbai. “I want to go back to the university and have the architecture department host a design competition. I’ll provide the land area and let the students create their own blueprints. The professors can be the judges. We’ll see whose design uses space best and looks the most appealing.”

That way, she would get solid design proposals; students would gain recognition and prize money; and the school would enjoy a publicity boost—three wins in one move.

Lin Chuanbai nodded. “That should be fine.” The university certainly wouldn’t refuse.

Indeed, when Yu Xiangan returned to the capital and visited Qingmu University, the faculty were immediately interested.

She was a well-known alumna there—the most successful entrepreneur among those who had left government work to start a business. Just the previous year, she had donated a large number of books to the university library, including many foreign titles they hadn’t owned before.

Because of that, the school held her in high regard.

And since this competition benefited everyone, they quickly approved it.

It was decided that third- and fourth-year students could enter. The judges would include several famous professors from the architecture school. The prizes: ten thousand yuan for first place, five thousand for second, one thousand for third.

At that time, while workers’ wages were rising—over a hundred yuan a month was common—ten thousand was still an enormous sum.

As for whether the students’ designs might have technical flaws, the judges would screen them. And since the students could consult their instructors at any time, how wrong could the results be?

What Yu Xiangan wanted was a usable design. Even the prettiest blueprint was worthless if it couldn’t be built.

Once she submitted the site maps and measurements, the competition officially began. Posters went up on bulletin boards, and professors mentioned it in class.

The response was overwhelming—far more than expected.

So many entries poured in that the first round of screening eliminated a large portion.

Even second-year students protested to their teachers: why couldn’t they join? They wanted a chance to try too.

Their foundations weren’t as strong as the upperclassmen’s, of course. When Yu Xiangan was asked about it, she smiled and said, “There’ll be other chances. This won’t be the last one.”

It was hardly a small project. When Liu Mingyue heard about it, she came over with some water-chestnut cakes she’d made herself and teased, “You really are generous, huh? If you’ve got that much money lying around, come find me next time—I can definitely put it to use.”

Yu Xiangan speared a piece of cake with a bamboo pick and tasted it. “I’ve got my reasons. Ever heard of spending a fortune to buy fame? I want my juniors to know me, to see that I’m generous. If they ever think about future jobs, they’ll think of coming to work with me.”

Liu Mingyue laughed. “How is it? That’s the best batch I’ve ever made. Delicious, right? I knew there had to be a deeper motive. Well, you’ll get what you want. Job placements aren’t what they used to be—more and more of the younger students are choosing private companies. After all, every official post is already filled, and no one’s retiring anytime soon. There’s no room for newcomers.”

It was true that private firms lacked the ironclad security of government positions, but they had their perks—higher pay, more flexibility, and fewer rigid rules. For those with ambition and ideas, it was a good path.

Liu Mingyue herself no longer had the courage to take that leap again, but it didn’t stop her from admiring her former classmate who had. “Back when you resigned, who would’ve guessed you’d get this far? Remember how everyone tried to talk you out of it? Now no one dares say it was a mistake. And when you donated those books last year, everyone was singing your praises.”

As reform continued and policies stayed open, prejudice against entrepreneurs faded. Money’s influence grew; society was beginning to believe that wealth was power. People laughed at poverty, not ambition.

“So,” Liu Mingyue said, smiling, “besides the design competition, what else brings you back this time?”

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

Lin Duzhong came home grinning, carrying a slab of beef. He had come across it on the road — apparently someone’s cow had broken its leg and couldn’t survive, so it had been butchered for meat.

Beef was rare and fresh meat even rarer; when you saw it, you didn’t pass it up. He’d bought over two catties.

When he returned, Lin Houpou was already home. Seeing his father so cheerful, he couldn’t help feeling irritated.
“Dad, how can you be so calm about all this?”

Lin Duzhong blinked, handed the meat to the housekeeper, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Lin Houpou sighed. “How could that kid, Chuanbai, come up with such a big idea? He had a perfectly good job as a researcher — wasn’t he earning enough already? And now he’s quit to start a pharmaceutical company!”

Lin Duzhong didn’t see the problem. “He’s just changed where he works. He’s still doing research.”

“Yes, he’s still a researcher,” Lin Houpou muttered, “but everything else is run by his wife.” The thought made his chest tighten. “Tell me, why’s he so careless? He lets his wife handle everything—doesn’t he ever want to take charge himself? Once a woman gets a taste of power, it’s hard to go back. From the outside, it looks like she’s dominant and he’s weak. Isn’t that embarrassing to talk about?”

Lin Duzhong wasn’t concerned. “They live their own lives; they know what works for them. You can’t deny your son never liked managing that kind of thing anyway.”

That was true enough.

Still, Lin Houpou felt like he was on the verge of a heart attack. This son had never followed his plans.

He had wanted him to work at the machinery factory—where, thanks to his own influence, the boy wouldn’t have needed backdoor favors but would still have had a smooth career. But no, the boy refused and went to work at a hospital pharmacy instead, doing something ordinary.

At least, he’d later gotten into college—and not just him, his wife too. The two of them passing together made many people envious. That had finally eased Lin Houpou’s mind.

If he could make it to college, his future wouldn’t be bad. Even though he hadn’t followed his father’s path and instead studied medicine, Lin Houpou had accepted it.

Then he got into graduate school—an intellectual, a proper scholar. For a while, the perpetually stern Lin Houpou couldn’t help smiling whenever people praised his second son.

But the joy hadn’t lasted long. His daughter-in-law soon quit her respectable job to open a restaurant and become a self-employed businesswoman.

It was unthinkable!

Had he known in advance, he would’ve found a way to stop her. But the couple had done it first and informed him later, leaving him no chance to object. He had no choice but to swallow his frustration.

He’d been worried his second son would also quit his research job to join her—but thankfully, he hadn’t. And to be fair, that daughter-in-law was capable; without a cent of help from him, she had built a thriving business on her own.

He might not have had direct dealings with her, but through friends he still heard bits of news—how much tax she paid each year, what new ventures she started, how much foreign currency her businesses brought in.

By now, she was a notable figure in the Special Economic Zone, which left him with mixed feelings.

A woman with that kind of drive—it was impressive, he had to admit. Any family would be proud to have someone so capable. But when he looked back at his son—noble, yes, a respectable researcher—but that also meant he didn’t earn much. Socially, his son’s position was higher than his wife’s, and that had once comforted him. At least something about the man outshone her.

But now? He’d thrown even that advantage away.

Lin Houpou worried about their future. If things went on like this, could their marriage stay peaceful?

When the woman is stronger than the man, harmony rarely lasts.
Rarely.

At that moment, Li Yujiao came home carrying several shopping bags—she’d gone out and bought clothes for herself, her son, and Lin Houpou.

Now that they had a housekeeper, she didn’t have to bother with chores anymore. Seeing her husband’s sour face, she immediately guessed what was bothering him. Nothing major had happened recently except for Lin Chuanbai’s resignation.

She cleared her throat. “I heard people saying their health supplements are selling like crazy. That ginseng tonic wine and those ginseng vitality pills are completely sold out.”

“I’ve heard that too,” said Lin Duzhong. “Business is indeed booming.”

“They must be making a lot of money,” Li Yujiao said. “I heard they spent tens of thousands on advertising. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to spend that much just on ads.”

Then she added, “Father, since they’re doing so well, maybe they could help Tiandong? He’s working on investment promotion now—if they go over there, the government will give them the best policy incentives.”

Lin Duzhong stayed silent, staring at the table.
Lin Houpou coughed. “Your eldest brother is also working in an industrial development zone, also doing investment promotion, and they didn’t invest there either. They pick their locations carefully. They’re down south—too far away to be involved.”

Even the eldest son’s area, which was better developed, hadn’t gotten their investment; the youngest’s location couldn’t compare.

Li Yujiao’s expression darkened. “How do you know if you don’t try? Maybe his area happens to have something they need.”

Their son Lin Tiandong had been assigned to a city in the northwest after graduation. She’d always wanted him to transfer back to the capital so the whole family could be together.

She was also trying to arrange a marriage for him. The distance made things difficult—she had a job in the capital, could only visit occasionally, and he brushed off her suggestions every time.

She wanted to find him a wife from a good family, someone who could help his career. Her son was handsome and promising—why shouldn’t he have his pick of good women? But he just wouldn’t take the hint. He was already falling behind his peers.

If he didn’t get promoted soon, how could he compete with his elder brother later? Their father’s network and influence would eventually pass to someone—but who, wasn’t yet decided. If Tiandong married early, had a wife with a strong family, and gave them a grandson she could help raise in the capital, the boy would naturally become closer to his grandfather. Then surely, Lin Houpou would favor the younger son more.

Her anxiety wasn’t baseless. Her son had been born much later than the others. The children from Lin Guangbai’s family were already working now, and in just a few years, Lin Chuanbai’s kids would be entering college. One after another, they were catching up. Li Yujiao needed an ally—a natural one who would stand on her side.

Lin Houpou frowned. “Tell me, what could he possibly have in that barren place that his second brother’s company would need? Mud?”

Li Yujiao was furious.

How had their son ended up assigned to such a backwater?

Meanwhile, over at Lin Guangbai’s home, a large package arrived. Inside were several bottles of finely packaged ginseng tonic wine and ginseng vitality pills, along with some smaller items.

The two brothers had always been close, and their habit of mailing things to each other hadn’t changed. In the past, it had been mostly Guangbai sending items from Shanghai to his younger brother. But ever since Lin Chuanbai got married—and especially after he and his wife started college—the direction had flipped. Now, he received far more parcels than he sent. As the couple’s business grew, the contents of those packages became more and more valuable.

Occasionally, Guangbai would even ask his second brother to help him purchase or ship certain things on his behalf.

This time, part of the ginseng tonic wine that Lin Chuanbai sent over was kept for themselves, and part was given away as gifts—to friends and colleagues in leadership positions.

People in their line of work were often busy, sometimes working late into the night, and long hours inevitably took a toll on the body. Drinking the tonic didn’t bring immediate, miraculous effects, but after a couple of days, they could genuinely feel the difference.

Its only flaw was the price—expensive, but at their level, that wasn’t really a problem. A single bottle lasted quite a while, and it wasn’t beyond their means.

When Yun Jing saw what was in the package, she smiled brightly, feeling quite pleased. The delivery reminded her of the bold decision she had made years ago—to bite the bullet, empty her savings, and buy two commercial storefronts together with her second brother and sister-in-law.

Back then, she’d been anxious to the point of losing hair from the stress. But now, the rent had skyrocketed, already matching their mortgage payments. They no longer needed to take extra money out each month to pay off the loan, and at this rate, the rent would soon surpass the loan amount entirely.

Now, she had another idea in mind. Watching Lin Guangbai examine the elegant bottle of ginseng tonic, she said, “Your brother already mentioned it—he’ll lend us the money, and we can pay him back slowly.”

She looked at him earnestly. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful for our son to have a new apartment when he gets married? It’s from his own uncle, after all—not an outsider. We’ll sign an IOU and repay it over time. It won’t take long to pay it off.”

Previously, Lin Chuanbai had called to bring up the idea himself. He pointed out that judging by the rapid rise in their rental income, property prices would only keep climbing. His eldest nephew, Lin Qianjing, had just graduated and been assigned a job in Shanghai. Since he wouldn’t be transferred anytime soon, and might start a family there, why not buy him an apartment as a wedding home?

That way, they would have two homes in Shanghai—one for each sibling.

They lived comfortably on public-sector salaries but were far from wealthy. The purchase of those two commercial units had already drained their savings, and they’d even borrowed some money from Yun Jing’s family. Buying another home now was simply impossible.

So this was clearly Chuanbai’s way of helping his older brother. Lin Guangbai understood that—but his pride made it hard to accept.

Seeing that hesitation, Yun Jing pressed the point. “He’s your own brother. You’ve helped him plenty in the past! I still remember you spending several months’ salary to buy him a wristwatch back then. Now that he’s making good money, this might just be a month or two of his earnings. We’ll write an IOU, we will pay it back.

“Think about it—once our son gets married, with a new apartment, everything will be easier. But if he and his wife stay in our current place, there won’t be enough space once they have a baby. What then—make our daughter sleep in the living room? It’s not even big!”

Lin Guangbai stayed silent.

So she kept going, her voice quick and insistent: “It’s not like before, when college graduates were rare and automatically assigned housing. He’s new to the job; who knows when his turn will come up for an apartment…”

On and on she went, like a wheel turning endlessly. “And we wouldn’t owe them for long—we still have the commercial properties, right? The rent will keep rising. We’ll save for a few years and pay back as we can. If you don’t want to ask him yourself, let me do it. I’m not afraid of losing face.”

Finally, Lin Guangbai spoke. “What nonsense. Of course I’ll be the one to ask.” After all, they were brothers—it would be easier between them.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Let’s borrow it. We’ll both sign the IOU and repay it slowly.”

Yun Jing finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Lin Chuanbai had phrased it as a loan precisely to spare his brother’s pride. Given how much care this older brother had shown him in the past, he wouldn’t have minded giving the money outright—but Guangbai would never accept that.

Now, with his nephew Lin Qianjing newly graduated, working, and already seeing someone seriously, the timing was perfect. If the housing was settled, as long as the boy didn’t fall into wasteful habits, he’d be financially stable for life.

And Shanghai property values only ever went up. Even if they dipped, it was never by much.

Soon, Lin Qianjing heard the news himself.

He was told to pick the apartment.

“…What?” he blinked. Buying a house—and they were letting him choose?

Did his parents even have that kind of money?

Then his mother called, explaining everything. The money was from his second uncle, though he was to confirm the final choice before signing.

The apartment was meant as his future marital home. Excited, he went house hunting right away. He was still living in a two-person dormitory and would sometimes go home on weekends to stay with his sister.

He was currently dating a young woman introduced by his supervisor; things were going smoothly, and marriage had already crossed his mind. Originally, he had planned to apply for a couple’s dorm after marriage—but now, having their own home was even better.

As for the IOU to his second uncle, he was happy to sign it and help repay it later.

It didn’t take long to choose—the housing market wasn’t yet as overwhelming as it would become years later, and since the place couldn’t be too far from his workplace, the options were simple.

Once the apartment was bought, word spread quickly: he was preparing to get engaged.

After the purchase, Lin Guangbai even filed an official report. Their salaries were modest, and such a large payment might raise eyebrows—he wanted to make clear that the money had been borrowed from his younger brother, not received as any sort of illicit benefit.

News of this eventually reached Li Yujiao’s ears, and her heart instantly soured.

Their current home was comfortable, yes, but it was government housing for active employees. Once Lin Houpou retired, it would be reassigned to his successor.

Then what? The two of them could move into a retirees’ compound—but what about their son? He’d still need a place of his own.

On that front, Lin Duzhong had already made plans. He had bought a small courtyard home in the capital for his youngest grandson and had it rebuilt into a two-story house.

When Lin Guangbai and Lin Chuanbai had married, they too had each received two-story houses. In fact, Tiandong’s new home was even more valuable—his brothers’ houses were in the small county of Baishi, while Tiandong’s was in the capital.

Now, Guangbai’s old two-story house in Baishi was rented out cheaply to a cousin’s family, and Chuanbai’s wedding house there sat empty.

To be fair, everyone was being treated equally—each grandson got one. For Tiandong, it would be enough for marriage and children.

The location wasn’t perfect, but it was still far better than a small-town property.

In the capital, property values only ever trended upward unless something truly extraordinary happened.

The new two-story home was already finished, built over the old courtyard lot. The surrounding neighborhood was still made up of traditional courtyard homes, but compared to the luxury apartments of Shanghai, it felt rustic.

The more Li Yujiao thought about it, the more bitter she felt. Her husband wasn’t the type to take bribes, and there was no way they could afford to buy such an expensive home themselves.

As for the claim that the money was just a “loan,” she didn’t believe it for a second. They could say they’d borrowed it, but who would be there to confirm repayment later?

Lin Duzhong understood her thoughts and could only shake his head helplessly.

Honestly—he had three sons, and the first two were already well established. The youngest was only just getting started; of course he would plan ahead for him.

There was still time before retirement, and even afterward, he wouldn’t be forgotten overnight.

His daughter-in-law’s worries about the youngest grandson’s housing were unnecessary—she simply couldn’t stand seeing Chuanbai “give” his older brother a home and was green with envy.

After all, a house wasn’t like any other purchase — it was a huge sum of more than two hundred thousand yuan.

Lin Chuanbai deliberately wanted to help his older brother improve his family’s financial situation. At his level, earning money wasn’t hard, but both he and his wife had strict principles. Their income was legitimate, transparent, and well-accounted for.

Buying a house for their child, however, was no small task — unless Lin Chuanbai stepped in.

His money came clean and honest.

And truthfully, Lin Chuanbai had planned it all out.

He didn’t want his older brother constantly feeling burdened by the loan or fretting about repayment. At this moment in history, making money was actually easy—if you knew where to look. For example, stocks.

Subscription certificates came in two types: registered and unregistered. The unregistered kind was much easier to trade. Lin Chuanbai used several tens of thousands of yuan to help his brother buy some.

In a year or two, when the market began soaring and daily limits of 0.05 increases lifted prices steadily, they could sell—not even at the peak, just somewhere mid-high—and easily make enough to repay the loan and even put a down payment on another property.

That was the advantage of knowing how the future would unfold—like having a prophet’s foresight, a golden finger of fate. Imagine knowing that a stock worth one yuan now would rise to one hundred yuan in a year. If you invested a hundred yuan, you’d have ten thousand in twelve months. Getting rich was simple when you knew where the tide was headed.

…

As word spread and reputation grew, business partners began seeking favors from Yu Xiangan—people like Lei Ming, Liang Yuan, and even Keleit.

After completing his last big deal, Lei Ming and his crew had truly washed their hands of their old black-market trade.

With that behind them, they bought large trucks and started a legitimate freight transport business.

He had once said he’d open a large wholesale market—and in a sense, he had. The profits were smaller than before, but the peace of mind was worth it. Their freight routes still ran north and south, but at least they no longer faced the same dangers from bandits and smugglers as they had on those international runs.

With this stable business, Lei Ming and his brothers brought their families to live with them—wives, children, and warm homes.

Their work was diverse, and they still did business with Yu Xiangan—large transactions, each one profitable. Naturally, when he wanted to buy her health products, she always saved stock for him.

Liang Yuan bought hers to give as gifts to her family elders.

Keleit, after tasting the ginseng tonic once, became fascinated. “My uncle needs this even more than I do. If he drinks it once, he’ll fall in love with it—it’s truly amazing! And it’s not even a drug? You’re sure you don’t need more investors?”

Yu Xiangan shook her head.

Keleit could only sigh regretfully. “That’s such a pity.”

He had seen how lucrative the business was, but for now, he couldn’t get a foot in the door.

“Yu, if you ever need a partner again, please contact me first.”

Yu Xiangan herself had fully tasted the sweetness of the health supplement market.

Beyond her premium ginseng line, she wanted to expand her product range. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as just wanting to—it required formulas.

Developing them alone was too slow, so she offered high prices to buy proven recipes, waiting eagerly for something truly promising to surface.

…

While the health supplement industry was booming, Chen Xiaoyang felt none of that excitement. High-end health products were far removed from her world. Her days revolved around work at the Wuwei factory, and lately, she was feeling restless. Not because of her job—it was going fine—but because she had to go home tomorrow. And she really didn’t want to.

Her mother had already delivered an ultimatum: if she didn’t come home, there would be consequences. And if her mother showed up at the factory to make a scene, it would be humiliating beyond words.

To avoid that, Chen Xiaoyang had no choice but to go. She stopped by the market and bought some good food to bring home, hoping it would put her mother in a better mood.

When she arrived, her nieces and nephews surrounded her excitedly, calling, “Auntie! Auntie!”

Chen Xiaoyang knew exactly what they wanted—to eat the treats she brought. She didn’t disappoint them, dividing up the snacks among them. As they dug in, their sweet chatter filled the air.

Her mother, seeing this, rolled her eyes. “Honestly, what’s wrong with you? Look at these adorable children—don’t you want one of your own? You’ve grown wings now, haven’t you? You don’t listen to a word your parents say.”

Chen Xiaoyang’s face fell. Ever since she turned twenty, her mother had been on her case about finding a husband.

At first, her mother had wanted her to stay unmarried longer to help the family financially. But after her brother and sister-in-law started working outside the home, her contribution wasn’t as vital anymore. Even if their new jobs didn’t have her factory benefits, they earned a steady monthly income.

That shift had turned her mother’s attention fully toward marriage anxiety.

“You’re over twenty already—a leftover woman! You’ve got so many coworkers, so many men around you—just pick one! I’m not asking for an arranged marriage, just find someone decent. You can build a life together. Don’t tell me you’re planning to go back to the village and marry a farmer after all the trouble it took to get you out of the fields?”

Chen Xiaoyang sighed helplessly. Here came the same old speech again. “Mom, I am looking. I really am.”

Her mother’s tone went cold. “Oh, you’re looking, are you? You’ve been saying that for years! Have you brought home even one man for me to meet? No! Are you even trying? Keep this up and you’ll be an old maid before you know it!”

Chen Xiaoyang muttered, “A rich old maid. That’s different. There are plenty like me in the factory.”

Her mother scoffed. “Then there must be plenty of men too! Why can’t you bring me a son-in-law?”

The conversation was going in circles again.

“Mom,” Chen Xiaoyang suddenly said, seizing her chance, “I just remembered—I ran into an old classmate on the way. I’m going to catch up with her for a bit.”

Before her mother could reply, she slipped out the door. She really didn’t have the mental space for dating right now. Marriage took time and energy, and she was focused on getting a promotion.

A raise and a better position—now that was appealing. Once she had those, she could find a better man anyway.

Walking aimlessly down the road, she greeted familiar faces along the way.

“Xiaoyang, off work today?”
“Xiaoyang, the eggplants in your aunt’s garden are looking good. Take a few home—I remember you like them.”
“Xiaoyang, perfect timing! Are you coming back next week? If so, could you help me bring something over?”

One conversation after another, friendly and familiar.

Eventually, Chen Xiaoyang wandered to the foot of Bamboo Mountain. Looking at the groves swaying gently in the breeze, she thought of the Wuwei factory’s newest products—prepackaged sour bamboo shoots. They could be eaten cold or used in salads and stir-fries.

They’d also just launched a spicy-sour noodle cup featuring bamboo shoots. She had tried both and found them delicious.

On impulse, she decided to hike up the mountain and dig some bamboo shoots to take back. After walking for a while, she saw others already digging and smacked her forehead—how could she forget? She hadn’t brought any tools! Was she planning to dig them out with her bare hands?

She turned around, planning to go home for a hoe and basket.

Halfway back, she stopped suddenly and looked up at the mountain again.

Wait—the factory was buying bamboo shoots now. And her village had plenty!

The roads were accessible, transport wasn’t hard, and the village’s bamboo groves stretched across several hills. Every year, the locals came here to dig shoots for themselves.

This might be a golden opportunity.

Thinking of that, Chen Xiaoyang suddenly felt energized. If this deal worked out, her promotion would be practically guaranteed!

Excited, she started running, and as she passed her house, her mother caught sight of her sprinting off and shouted angrily, “You ungrateful girl! If you’re so capable, don’t bother coming back!”

Down in the county office, someone had reported a promising new location for sourcing bamboo. Yu Xiangan happened to be interested in inspecting it personally, so she came herself.

She still remembered Chen Xiaoyang—during every factory inspection, whenever she passed by Chen’s team, she’d always notice the young woman looking at her with those bright, admiring eyes. That look had never changed.

After Chen Xiaoyang learned that the boss herself would be coming to investigate, she immediately reported it to the village head and party secretary. Together, they quickly decided to restrict access to the bamboo hills—no one was allowed to go digging for shoots for the time being.

If the factory agreed to buy from them, the entire village would earn a share of the profits—and that share would be far more valuable than the few bamboo shoots they usually dug up to eat.

These days, no one was starving anyway. People dug bamboo shoots more for the taste than for survival. Things weren’t like the old days when hunger forced them into the hills.

When Yu Xiangan arrived in the village, the headman and several village officials were already waiting at the entrance. Such a welcoming scene was nothing new to her. She greeted them, shook hands, and without wasting time, went straight up the mountain.

The hills stretched endlessly, forming a sea of bamboo. When the breeze blew, the green waves rippled like the surface of an ocean. Standing at the peak and looking down, the view was breathtaking.

Seeing the abundance of bamboo, Yu Xiangan suddenly thought of something. She turned to Chen Xiaoyang and asked, “Do you have bamboo cicada flowers here? If you do, we’ll buy those too.”

That was a valuable commodity indeed.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

While Yu Xiangan and Lin Chuanbai were busy working in the farm realm, the twins were still awake.

Lin Yining, hugging her bunny-shaped pillow, tiptoed into her brother’s room. She asked cautiously, “Brother, do I look pretty with makeup on? Do I look like a movie star? What do you think would happen if I told our parents I wanted to become a celebrity?”

Lin Yihong put down his book and glanced at her. “Are you serious?”

“Just answer first,” Lin Yining said.

He thought for a moment. “I don’t think our parents would react too strongly, but Grandpa and Great-Grandpa would definitely oppose it. They always say every profession can produce talent, but some paths are harder and attract more malice—especially for women in entertainment. Female celebrities face much more difficulty than male ones.”

His tone was calm. “You’re not serious, right? You’re just asking out of curiosity. Think about what we saw on set before—how those actresses had to film summer scenes in freezing winter, wearing qipao dresses with bare legs and still smiling as if they weren’t cold. In winter, they film summer; in summer, they film winter. They stay up all night, push through exhaustion, redo the same scene over and over. You forgot how miserable they looked?”

The memory made Lin Yining shiver.

He nodded knowingly. “If you just want to look beautiful, you can be a musician or dancer. But if you want to do it professionally, it’ll take a lot of hard work.”

Her talent in those areas was slightly above average—not hopeless, but compared to the truly gifted, she’d have to walk a much longer, harder road.

She sighed. “So, studying is still easier. Just listen to the teacher, review after class, pay attention—you can remember most of it.”

“Studying can’t be your career,” Lin Yihong said. “You can’t study for life.”

She tugged on the bunny’s ear. “I can for now, though. High school, then college, then grad school, then a doctorate. If I become a teacher, that’s not bad either—summers and winters off, a relaxed life. Especially if I teach college and don’t have to manage students or projects.”

“You forget,” he said dryly, “if a teacher wears makeup, parents might think she’s unreliable.”

Their teachers were almost all barefaced. Only the English teacher, who had studied abroad, dressed more fashionably—but even she was careful not to look unprofessional. Teachers had to maintain their image.

Lin Yining groaned. “So I can only dress up during breaks… Being a teacher sounds stressful anyway. I don’t have that kind of patience. Some kids are impossible to reason with. Maybe not a teacher then. How about being a doctor, like Great-Grandpa and Aunt?”

“A doctor?” Lin Yihong raised an eyebrow. “When doctors are busy, they eat, drink, and sleep at the hospital. Long shifts, sleepless nights. Didn’t you say staying up ruins your looks?”

“Then maybe I’ll do business like Mom.”

“Running a business isn’t impossible,” he said, “but remember when Mom had that hard time and kept hiding in the kitchen to cook just to calm herself down? The stress can be heavy. And yes, she’s made a lot of money, but her social standing isn’t very high. Even though she pays taxes and does things properly, people still see business owners as unstable. Some still think it’s a shame she quit her government job.

“Mom’s success wasn’t just luck—she’s smart and capable. Plus, she has Grandpa’s influence. Not corruption, but his position shields her from greedy opportunists. You’ve seen Hong Kong’s rich—plenty of them live well, but even they tread carefully.”

Lin Yining twisted the bunny’s ear around and around. “Then maybe I’ll do Dad’s kind of work. He’s a researcher—people respect that. If I pick lighter projects, I won’t be too busy.”

“If you’re idle, you’ll have no achievements,” Lin Yihong said. “No achievements means no reputation. Without reputation, no one truly respects you—you’ll only impress those who don’t know any better.”

Lin Yining groaned dramatically. “Brother, you’re just pouring cold water on me! Everything’s so hard.”

She felt anxious.

Many of their classmates aimed only for technical schools. During breaks, this topic always came up. The twins had already decided to go to high school and university, but even so, thinking about the future made her uneasy.

“Brother, have you decided what you want to do? Tell me so I can get an idea.”

“Not yet,” he said. “We’ll see once we’re in high school. I haven’t made up my mind either. But your way of thinking is wrong—there’s no job that isn’t hard. No effort, no gain. I’m pointing out the challenges, but you only see the negatives?”

She knew he was right but still pouted. “I’m just saying. I know that already.”

Of course she knew—but she still didn’t know what she wanted to do. She jumped to her feet. “I’m thirsty. Want some juice?”

“Bring me a glass too.”

She went to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and glanced toward their parents’ room. The lights were off—they were asleep.

She returned with two glasses. “Brother, what book are you reading? Got any recommendations? I’ve run out of stuff to read.”

“Computer science,” he said. “Want to try it?”

“Sure! Wait, computer science is a career too, right?”

…

Meanwhile, the “sleeping” Yu Xiangan and Lin Chuanbai were still active in the farm space. Lin Chuanbai was in the workshop, mixing formulas. When he finished, he came out to share a midnight snack of grilled fish.

Yu Xiangan, having already harvested the cattle and sheep, had started making chestnut cakes just to pass time.

Lin Chuanbai arrived just as the first batch came out of the oven, and they happily ate a few pieces together.

Since it was late, they didn’t eat much—just two pieces each.

Yu Xiangan asked, “How long until we see results?”

“Eight and a half hours,” Lin Chuanbai replied, stretching.

“So tomorrow morning we can check after breakfast?”

He nodded. “It’s still early. What should we do now?” He glanced toward the vineyard. “The grapes are ripe. Should we store them, make wine, or dry them into raisins?”

“There are already plenty of raisins in storage,” Yu Xiangan said.

Sometimes, when she looked at all their stockpiled supplies, she thought—if they ever found themselves in some apocalyptic world, they’d survive just fine for a long while.

They usually turned grapes into raisins or wine.

The cellar was already stacked with jars of wine. They didn’t drink much themselves—most of it was for gifts. It tasted good, and being handmade, it carried more sincerity.

Lin Chuanbai crouched beside the rows of jars. “Maybe we should start making the health supplements first?”

Health supplements, unlike medicine, had a vast market too—ranging from low to high-end. What they planned to make was a premium ginseng tonic wine.

They had brewed ginseng wine before as gifts for elders—just a small cup before bed, and it worked wonders. So much so that every year, they had to send several jars to Lin Houpou, who gifted them to his own friends.

That said a lot on its own.

The health supplement market was booming—and before this, there had already been one wildly popular but utterly absurd “wellness treatment” known as chicken blood therapy: they would draw blood from a one-year-old rooster and inject it into people.

It had been all the rage among retired officials.

After the injections, people’s faces would flush red, and they’d feel an adrenaline rush—so they thought it was working.

But animals have blood types too, and if the blood was mismatched or injected in excess, it was a straight road to death. Not to mention, chicken blood could carry all kinds of viruses.

Those who survived it were simply lucky.

In contrast, their own product had real ingredients, real efficacy. They weren’t going for the “small profits, high volume” model; once they built a good reputation, sales would take care of themselves.

The only issue was sourcing. “We can’t keep taking ginseng from the medicinal garden,” Yu Xiangan said.

Lin Chuanbai nodded. “I know. I’ve already talked to two people. I plan to visit them soon—they come from families who’ve harvested ginseng for generations.”

“Have you got your eye on suppliers for the factory too?” she asked.

Yu Xiangan didn’t have strong connections in pharmaceuticals—her network mainly covered culinary herbs used for medicinal soups.

“Changyao already has existing supplier relationships,” Lin Chuanbai said. “And I’ve worked with a few through the research institute. No need to worry.”

“Good,” she replied.

After leaving, Yu Xiangan visited Lin Chuanbai’s herb garden. She touched one of the ginseng plants and inhaled deeply—the air itself seemed rich with the scent of money.

*

Yu Mingyao’s makeup skills had improved rapidly. With her aunt’s guidance, she could now manage a light, natural look without difficulty. Once she got the hang of it, practice made perfect—what had taken her ages before, now took just minutes.

One day, she finally worked up the courage to wear makeup to school.

It was her first time showing up with makeup on, and when she returned to the dorm, her roommate Yi Zhuzhu raised a brow with mock disdain. “Well, well—you finally learned something. Even if it’s just a beginner’s attempt, you do look a little livelier. Guess you should thank me for inspiring you, huh?”

Yu Mingyao’s smile froze. Her earlier excitement drained away.

That was her least-favorite roommate—someone she never got along with.

When Yu didn’t answer, Yi Zhuzhu lifted her chin. “I’m going dancing at the ballroom tomorrow with some friends. Do you dare come? Don’t think that a little makeup makes you special. You’ve never even been to a ballroom, have you? Look at your outfit—so plain. Jeans and a white shirt? You’d probably get thrown out before the music starts.”

Yu chuckled stiffly. Jeans and a white blouse—perfectly normal clothes.

If you think they’re so bad, don’t wear them yourself, she thought. Her lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Your parents must’ve skipped a lesson—did they never teach you how to speak to people?”

As for the ballroom—no, she really hadn’t been. Her parents were strict about such things. They said dance halls were indecent places and had warned that if she ever went, they’d “break her legs.”

She doubted they’d go that far—but a painful scolding was guaranteed.

Yi Zhuzhu sniffed. “Of course my parents taught me manners. They also taught me honesty. I just say what I think. It’s not my fault you’re a country bumpkin. Never been to a ballroom—you’re behind the times.”

Anger flared in Yu Mingyao. “Who says I’ve never been?”

“Oh? Then come with me tomorrow,” Yi taunted.

Yu hesitated, glancing at their two other roommates. “All four of us?”

The other two had never gone either. They didn’t dare interfere—the tension between these two had been brewing for months. Yi Zhuzhu came from money: a watch worth over a thousand yuan, a necklace to match, branded clothes head to toe. The others survived on monthly allowances of twenty yuan. None dared offend her—except Yu Mingyao.

Go dancing? They were tempted—but how would they afford it?

Yi Zhuzhu noticed the look in their eyes and smiled smugly. “If you want to come, I’ll cover your expenses. What’s the matter, scared?”

That settled it. The other two agreed immediately.

Yu Mingyao, who had hoped they’d refuse, now had no way to back out. She gritted her teeth. “Fine, I’ll go!”

Yi Zhuzhu’s voice turned falsely sweet. “Do you even have proper clothes? Don’t tell me you don’t own a dress. I wouldn’t want to be seen with you like that. Hmm, maybe I should lend you something—I’ve got plenty I’ve only worn once or twice. Don’t worry, I won’t charge you.”

Yu Mingyao nearly exploded. How could someone be this insufferable?

So what if she was rich? Yu’s family wasn’t poor either. Her aunt’s side was even wealthier than the Yi family, yet they were modest and kind.

This wasn’t about money—it was about personality. Constantly putting others down to lift yourself up was the worst kind of arrogance.

That evening, Yu went home and searched through her wardrobe. She found a dress—light blue, elegant, soft to the touch. Her aunt had given it to her as a gift when she got into college. Unlike her mother’s practical clothes, this one had an unmistakable quality. She cherished it so much that she had only worn it once, then carefully stored it away.

It came with matching light-blue heels and a delicate handbag. Together, they transformed her completely.

She stroked the fabric, worried about snagging it, but she refused to let others look down on her. She packed the dress, shoes, and purse and took them to school.

When it was time to go out, she changed.

The moment she stepped out of the dorm room, her three roommates fell silent—staring in awe.

Yi Zhuzhu’s face turned green, her lips pressed tight in silence.

The other two couldn’t stop praising her.

“Mingyao, that dress is gorgeous!”
“Where did you get it? How much was it?”
“I’ve never seen you wear it before—it’s so elegant! Like something out of a fairy tale.”
“You look like a rich young lady.”

Yu smiled. “I don’t know how much it cost—my aunt gave it to me. I’ve only worn it once before. I’d be heartbroken if it got damaged.”

Yi Zhuzhu rolled her eyes. “Probably some street-stall knockoff.”

Yu smiled sweetly. “How would you know? You shop at street stalls yourself?”

“Then tell me the brand,” Yi snapped.

“What does that matter?” Yu said calmly. “It’s pretty, that’s enough.”

In truth, the dress had no label—it had been tailored to her measurements. It was definitely not cheap.

Everyone changed and, looking bright and stylish, they headed to the ballroom. Aside from the four girls, there were several male classmates—Yi Zhuzhu’s acquaintances.

On the way, Yi’s smile started to strain.

Half the boys who had always hovered around her now had their eyes fixed on Yu Mingyao.

How could she possibly stay cheerful after that?

So what if she wore a nice dress—underneath, she was still that same “country bumpkin.”

It was Yu Mingyao’s first time at a ballroom—and it ended in disaster.

A group of hot-blooded young men got into a fight. Someone called the police, and the whole group had to wait for their guardians to pick them up.

Yu Xianghai and Ye Qijia happened to be out of town, which was her one small blessing.

Even though the girls hadn’t caused any trouble, the police still insisted their guardians come and give them “a lesson.”

Yu Mingyao froze.
If she told her older brother, he would definitely inform their parents—and then she’d be lectured for hours.
After thinking it over again and again, she decided to call her uncle-in-law instead.

Lin Chuanbai answered immediately and came to pick her up.

For him, this really was a new kind of experience.

At the police station, he saw a group of youthful, wide-eyed girls—beautiful, nervous, and clearly out of place. It wasn’t hard to imagine how, in that kind of charged atmosphere, tempers and hormones could boil over.

“Comrade, hello. I’m here to take them home. May I ask what happened?”

The story was simple enough.
Yu Mingyao, a strikingly pretty girl, and Yi Zhuzhu, who wasn’t bad-looking either, had drawn plenty of attention as soon as they entered the dance hall. Several boys wanted to dance with them, shoving aside the male classmates who had come along. The boys, unwilling to give ground, pushed back.
Tempers flared. A fight broke out.

Fortunately, none of the girls were hurt.

Lin Chuanbai glanced over the group—Yu Mingyao and her roommates were fine.

Since the other three girls had no family nearby, he decided to take all of them.
“I’ll drive your classmates back to campus?” he asked.

Yu Mingyao hesitated. “We can’t. The dorm’s locked. We won’t get in.”

There was a strict curfew, and unless it was an emergency, the dorm matron wouldn’t open the doors. Returning like this would only cause trouble.

Yi Zhuzhu bit her lip and glanced at Lin Chuanbai before turning to Yu Mingyao. Her tone softened for once. “Mingyao, could we stay at your place tonight? It’s too late, and it’s not safe outside.”

The other two roommates looked at Yu Mingyao hopefully. She didn’t like Yi Zhuzhu, but she got along well with the other two—they studied and ate together.

“Fine, you can all stay at my place for the night,” she agreed. She couldn’t bring herself to say no; if something happened to them on the street, she’d feel guilty forever.

Lin Chuanbai drove them back without a word.

When they entered the residential complex, Yi Zhuzhu was stunned. Yu Mingyao lived here? The place was one of the city’s most expensive neighborhoods. Her family was clearly well-off. Her own father had once considered buying an apartment here but had given up after the deal fell through.

She knew exactly what these houses cost.

And then her curiosity shifted—who exactly was Lin Chuanbai to Yu Mingyao? The man was far too striking: tall, composed, confident, mature, and handsome—completely different from the fumbling boys she knew.

As they stepped out of the car, she couldn’t hold back her question. “Is he your brother?”

Yu Mingyao’s mouth twitched. “That’s my uncle-in-law. I know he looks young, but my cousins aren’t much younger than me.”

“Uncle-in-law?”

Yi Zhuzhu’s face went pale. So—he was already married. Instantly, her interest cooled. Why was it that every man who caught her eye already had a family?

Yu Mingyao had seen this kind of mood swing from her before. She rolled her eyes. “Wait here. I need to talk to my uncle for a moment.”

She slipped back into the car.
“Uncle, could you please not tell my parents about this? I swear I’ll never go again.”

She meant it. The night had left her genuinely shaken.
When those strange men surrounded them, she had been terrified of what might happen.

Lin Chuanbai studied her expression. “You’re not lying?”

She held up three fingers. “Absolutely not.”

He nodded. “Then just this once. I won’t tell them.”

Relief washed over her. “Thank you, Uncle. It’s late—you should get some rest.”

When Yu Xiangan later heard the story from Lin Chuanbai, she couldn’t stop laughing. “Poor child—one trip to a dance hall, and she’s traumatized already.”

“Poor but lucky,” Lin Chuanbai said, shaking his head. “Even proper ballrooms can get messy. For pretty girls, a single incident can be enough to regret for life.”

Dancing itself wasn’t wrong—but those places carried risks.

After that, Yu Mingyao never went to a ballroom again.
And after seeing how well she lived, Yi Zhuzhu stopped sneering at her for being “country” or “cheap.”

Yu Mingyao was exasperated but secretly relieved—life was easier without daily fights.

*

Changyao Pharmaceutical was finally acquired.

Yu Xiangan had to pour in a huge sum—not just to buy the factory itself, but also to compensate the workers for their years of service and to clear the company’s debts.

Roughly sixty percent of the management staff were dismissed, leaving behind the honest, hardworking employees. Those were worth keeping. The ones who’d only ever lined their own pockets—she wanted none of them.

The old inventory in the warehouse was cleared out, half sold and half given away.
It was a loss, but letting it sit until expiration would have been worse.

Those discontinued drugs would never be produced again.

Lin Chuanbai formally resigned from his teaching position and brought with him several colleagues willing to follow him to Changyao. Together, they established a new R&D department.

He offered double their previous salaries as a starting point—and promised that anyone who successfully developed a new drug would receive 1 percent of its net profit for five years.

For a hit product, that was enough to make someone a millionaire.

Lin Chuanbai didn’t immediately present the formulas he had already created years ago. That would have been too conspicuous. Everyone knew what experiments he’d conducted in the university lab; if he suddenly unveiled a finished product, people would suspect he’d used school resources for personal gain.

So he quietly recreated one of his earlier medicines step by step, in front of everyone’s eyes.

He already knew every shortcut to take, so the process seemed almost miraculous—smooth, fast, and flawless. In no time, the new drug was ready and sent for approval. Thanks to his contacts, the paperwork went through quickly, and animal testing began soon after.

It was a pediatric fever-relief patch.

The financial incentives sparked competition; while that product went through its trials, others in the department began developing their own ideas.

Within months, results poured in—and Lin Chuanbai released his second new medicine.

Meanwhile, the factory workers stayed busy too.
While drugs required lengthy procedures, health supplements did not.

The supplement line launched first—and immediately sold out.

After reviewing inventory, Yu Xiangan decided to go big. She spent tens of thousands to buy a full-page advertisement in the largest newspaper in Yangcheng.

In just two months, the ad costs were fully recouped.

The entire stock nearly vanished from the shelves, and soon customers had to book in advance.

When the first batch of buyers began sharing glowing feedback, the product’s demand exploded further—so much that scalpers appeared, reselling reservation slots for high prices.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

The people at Changyao Pharmaceutical refused the proposal, though the negotiation team had expected that outcome.

Who would willingly give up their current positions to start over elsewhere? It wasn’t that they couldn’t—but they had no better prospects if they left, so of course, they were unwilling to move.

But the investors weren’t willing to take over the factory wholesale either. The decline of Changyao’s operations was, at least in half, due to its management.

If not for their complacency, corruption, and self-serving greed—stuffing their own pockets while ignoring the factory’s troubles—the place wouldn’t have fallen to the point of selling off machines just to survive the New Year. Even that so-called accidental fire that destroyed raw materials was suspicious. Someone had probably used it to wipe debts off the books.

As for the honest, hardworking employees—there was no problem keeping them. But those at the top? A small temple couldn’t afford such large Buddhas.

Besides, the managers still had other paths available. They could be reassigned to other posts or, with luck, even promoted elsewhere.

It became a long tug-of-war.

The negotiation team wasn’t in a hurry. Their employer had given them six months to close the deal. They could always scout other factories in the meantime—to add pressure.

Yu Xiangan, however, had no patience for drawn-out back-and-forths. This sort of thing involved endless bureaucracy and politicking. If she took on the task personally, she’d have no time or energy left for her other businesses.

Better to leave it to professionals.

The negotiation team even leveraged public opinion by releasing portions of their progress to the media.

The management represented a small group; the new demands didn’t directly affect most workers. But one thing did—under the new structure, there would no longer be “iron rice bowl” guarantees. If Changyao became a joint foreign venture, underperforming employees could be dismissed. And once fired—what then?

The entire factory erupted in debate.

Some supported the idea: as long as they worked hard, they wouldn’t be fired easily. Wages would increase, and their lives could finally stabilize.

Others opposed it: “Why should we risk losing our jobs just for making small mistakes or slacking a bit? That’s too harsh. Better to just muddle through as before—things always find a way to work out.”

And besides, if one foreign investor was interested, others might come too. Competing bidders could mean more favorable terms later.

Qian San supported the deal. After all, the factory was already selling off its own machinery to stay afloat—what else could they possibly sell next?

The company was deep in debt, behind on wages, and stuck with unsold inventory. Having any buyer at all was a stroke of luck.

If the factory really became a foreign joint venture, the workers would at least receive a severance payout. With that money, they could survive even if the factory eventually closed. Some could even use it as startup capital for small businesses.

From time to time, Yu Xiangan received updates from the negotiation team.

She wasn’t worried.

If this deal fell through, there were others. But based on her research, Changyao was the most vulnerable of the struggling factories—and therefore the one most likely to sell.

The odds of acquiring it were good.

Lin Chuanbai’s mood rose and fell with each update. If they secured the factory, his private research institute could finally be established.

He had already identified several colleagues who might be willing to join him.

Yu Xiangan made a fist, holding it like a microphone in front of him and playfully “interviewed” him: “It won’t be long now. Your research lab is about to open. I just placed an order—your equipment should arrive within six months. How do you feel?”

Lin Chuanbai’s grin spread wide. “Great. Really great. I can hardly wait.”

Yu Xiangan smiled. “It won’t be long.”

Crack, crack, crack!

The lively sound of firecrackers filled the air—it was a housewarming celebration. Gu Nanfeng’s new home was ready.

As a reward for his years of work, he had been allocated a three-bedroom apartment. His salary was high enough to buy one on his own, but this unit was given free of charge. He spent generously on renovations, and the finished home was bright and comfortable. His wife and daughter were thrilled—south-facing, well-lit, with good ventilation and fully furnished. Everything nearby was convenient.

They were delighted.

With only one daughter, Gu Nanfeng had already decorated the spare room in anticipation of a second child.

He had no intention of keeping the room for his father. After his father remarried, that man had effectively become a stranger. They seemed happy enough together—he didn’t want to interfere.

Several others received housing allocations at the same time, though Gu’s was the largest—his contributions had been greater.

Hearing the cheerful noises from the ceremony, factory workers nearby couldn’t help but feel envious.

They had seen the housing complex under construction—it was beautiful. Even the smallest one-bedroom units were wonderful.

And the best part? These homes were free.

If only they could earn “Outstanding Employee” ratings every year—maybe they’d be next in line.

With examples like Gu’s before them, everyone was suddenly fired up, brimming with energy. Whenever someone felt lazy, they thought of those new homes; whenever they wanted to cut corners, they thought of them again.

Morale rose across the board.

Not just in that factory—employees transferred elsewhere were inspired too.

Take Sun Dongsheng, for instance. He’d been in Shanghai for over half a year now, managing Wuwei’s three thriving restaurant branches there.

As regional general manager, he oversaw operations and tallied profits. Business was booming—remarkably so.

He was now striving for his own “Outstanding” rating. He wanted a house too. He’d missed out before, but now the opportunity was in reach—it all depended on his performance.

Yu Qingshan, seeing how motivated everyone had become, finally felt reassured.

After all—this was housing. Not just any reward, but a real home.

…

Meanwhile, Lei Ming’s purchasing volumes were climbing higher than ever. His latest transaction totaled several million yuan. Uneasy about the scale, he came in person to confirm the details.

Yu Xiangan reassured him. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the goods are shipped on time. Just have your people ready to receive them.”

Lei Ming nodded. “Everything’s set. It’s not that I don’t trust you—it’s just that I’ve signed contracts. There’s no room for error. If we miss the window, we might not find another buyer like this.”

Most of Lei Ming’s men were ex-soldiers. He had already been planning to retire from this line of work. This would be his final big deal, which was why he was being so careful.

“We all want a steadier life,” he said. “Fast money comes with high risk.”

Yu Xiangan agreed. A fresh scar ran across his face—there were likely more hidden under his clothes. His presence carried a tougher, sharper edge than before.

She nodded. “Better to quit while ahead. You’ve earned enough. Settle down, do something stable.”

Lei Ming smiled. “Yeah. I’m thinking of opening a large marketplace later. I’ll still be buying from you, though—just smaller orders. You’ll take them, right?”

Yu Xiangan laughed. “Congratulations in advance on hanging up your boots. I hope you enjoy your peace and quiet. And don’t be so modest—somehow I doubt your orders will ever be that small.”

Lei Ming had made a fortune. Yu Xiangan didn’t care what he resold her goods for—whether he bought from her at ten yuan and sold for a hundred, it was all the same to her.

Payment settled was payment done.

Lei Ming’s group operated under a shell company, buying clothes, accessories, and food products from her in bulk—each deal worth hundreds of thousands. This latest order was ten times larger. Yu Xiangan had mobilized all her resources to fulfill it.

She’d been planning to remind him to stop soon anyway. The Soviet Union’s collapse was just around the corner—it was already about 1992.

This kind of line of work was dangerous—far too risky.

Yu Xiangan knew a few other traders who also operated along “Brother Su’s” international route. Their scale wasn’t as large as Lei Ming’s, and their orders weren’t as massive, but they shipped from the same region. Sometimes when she met them, it was common to see injuries—cuts, bruises, bandages. Some who were supposed to come pick up goods never showed up again, and it wasn’t the first or second time that happened.

She tried to think optimistically about those who vanished—perhaps they had simply quit the business, not that they’d met something worse.

Lei Ming, at least, was smart enough to pull out while still ahead. To have that kind of discipline and foresight was rare, and Yu Xiangan hoped to maintain a long-term business relationship with him in whatever new venture he took up.

“I picked up some gemstones this trip,” Lei Ming said. “Want to take a look?”

They never returned empty-handed from those runs. Furs, gems, gold and silver jewelry, uncut stones, fine carpets—all were in high demand.

Yu Xiangan smiled. “What kind of gemstones? Show me.”

If something good turned up, she was always interested.

Lei Ming opened a small box. “Take a look at this sapphire.”

Yu Xiangan’s eyes widened the moment she saw it—it was exquisite. But she didn’t have that kind of money to spare right now. This single gemstone was easily worth several million yuan. Made into jewelry, it could fetch tens of millions, and in another ten or twenty years, it might be worth hundreds of millions.

She sighed regretfully. “I’ll have to pass for now. Cash flow’s tight. Are you planning to sell it soon? If so, I have a friend who mentioned wanting a sapphire.”

Acquiring the pharmaceutical factory and establishing a research institute had already burned through enormous funds.

Lei Ming chuckled, the scar across his face twisting with his grin. “Yes, I’m looking to sell it soon.”

Yu Xiangan teased, “By the way, that scar—did you never use the scar cream I gave you?”

Lei Ming grinned wider. “I’ll use it when I’m retired.”

Right now, the rougher he looked, the more intimidating his presence—and that was useful in his line of work.

Yu Xiangan relaxed. “Good. So it’s not that my cream doesn’t work, then.”

The cream had been newly developed by Lin Chuanbai, containing spiritual spring water. It had shown excellent results in testing.

Yu Xiangan called Liang Yuan, who arrived soon after—with Lu Anran tagging along out of curiosity.

Liang Yuan had previously mentioned wanting a sapphire, and the moment she saw the large gem, her mind began sketching jewelry designs.

Liang Yuan was wealthy—and unhesitant about spending.

Lu Anran watched the stone pass into Liang Yuan’s hands and couldn’t help touching her chest, half in admiration, half in pain. She was fairly well-off herself, but spending millions on a single gemstone was beyond her reach.

She’d just have to work harder and make more money.

Meanwhile, in Guangzhou, Yu Mingfeng and Yu Mingyao were attending college. Their grades hadn’t been the best, and they’d only made it into technical schools, but that was still considered a great achievement. Yu Xianghai and Ye Qijia were proud enough.

They might not have matched Yu Mingjie’s bachelor’s degree, but a junior college education was still something to be proud of.

With all three children studying in the city, Yu Xianghai and Ye Qijia often visited when they had time. Ye Qijia had more than once urged her husband to retire, but no matter what she said, he refused.

Though their clothing business was doing well, he didn’t know if it would last. Having a stable job gave him peace of mind—no matter what happened, they’d always have security.

Ye Qijia eventually gave up trying to persuade him.

At least she was glad they had bought two apartments in Guangzhou years ago—one under the eldest son’s name, one under the younger’s. Now when they visited, they could stay anywhere they liked.

They lived in the same neighborhood, just a hundred or two meters from Lin Chuanbai’s family, making visits convenient and frequent.

Yu Mingjie and his wife, Meng Yuhong, usually lived in their apartment near the power plant for convenience.

Yu Mingfeng and Yu Mingyao stayed in dorms during the week but came home on weekends.

Whenever the older cousins came back, Lin Yihong and Lin Yining loved to play with them.

Now that Yu Mingfeng and Yu Mingyao were in college, they had more free time and wider social circles. Yu Mingfeng often tinkered with computers and models alongside Lin Yihong, while Lin Yining and Yu Mingyao had gotten into makeup.

Yu Mingyao didn’t dare wear makeup in public yet—and truthfully, she wasn’t good at it. She and Lin Yining were both beginners, and the results… well, the boys could barely look.

The difference between their attempts and the movie stars they tried to imitate was tragic.

Did they use their feet to apply it?

Whenever Yu Mingfeng or Lin Yihong said that aloud, Yu Mingyao would start swinging.

This time was no different—Yu Mingfeng dodged her punch but couldn’t resist continuing, “I’m not trying to be mean, but look at that mouth! Are you going to eat children with it? And your eyebrows—one thick, one thin—just like Crayon Shin-chan. Good thing you don’t wear that outside; you’d scare the kids.”

Yu Mingyao kicked him squarely in the shin. “Shut up!”

Then she quickly wiped her face clean.

Lin Yining sighed as she stared at her own reflection—her cheeks bright red and uneven.

So makeup was this hard?

She’d only wanted a soft flush, some balance between the two sides—but she couldn’t even manage that.

She had only ever used skincare products before—at most, a light sunscreen. Real makeup was completely new territory.

Yu Mingyao, now bare-faced again, turned to Lin Yining. “Doesn’t your aunt wear makeup? Have you seen how she does it?”

Lin Yining shook her head. “My mom’s skin is really good—she hardly wears makeup. Usually she just does skincare, applies a bit of base or sunscreen, shapes her brows, and uses lipstick to look fresh. That’s it.”

Lin Yining touched her own brows. “Mine aren’t as nice as hers—I need to learn how to shape them.”

Yu Mingyao’s brows were worse—she had over-plucked one side and tried to fix it with brow powder, ending up looking exactly like a cartoon character.

She had also gotten tanned recently and tried to lighten her face too much, so the foundation looked ghostly white. To “balance it,” she piled on blush—until her cheeks looked like a monkey’s backside.

While Yu Xianghai didn’t mind the boys building computers, he couldn’t stand the girls playing with makeup. “It’s fine to fool around at home,” he said, “but don’t you dare go out looking like that! Especially you, Yining—you’re too young. Wait until college to start learning. There’s no rush.”

Lin Yining stuck out her tongue. “Uncle, I only practice at home. I’d never wear it outside—our school doesn’t even allow it.”

Yu Mingyao shrugged. “Dad, you’re so old-fashioned. Makeup’s nice! Everyone wants to look good—what’s wrong with that?”

Lin Yining added seriously, “Some jobs actually require it. Hotel receptionists, sales reps—they all wear makeup. It makes them look more professional and polished.”

Yu Xianghai thought about it and admitted that was true. Still, he waved them off. “Fine, fine—practice at home if you want. Just don’t go out looking like that mess earlier. If someone saw you at night, they’d think they’d seen a ghost.”

Yu Mingyao laughed sweetly. “That’s my dad—always cuts deep.”

Later, when Yu Xiangan heard the story, she couldn’t stop laughing.

Yu Mingyao gave her a pitiful look. “Auntie, how can you laugh too? Auntie, teach me! There’s a girl in my dorm who knows makeup, but she looks down on me. I want to learn properly.”

Yu Xiangan coughed twice, trying to suppress her amusement, though her eyes still sparkled. She nodded. “Alright. You’re in college now—you can start learning. Hold on a second.”

She went into her room and came back with two new cosmetic sets. “These are backups I never opened. You don’t need to do anything complicated—just start with something simple.”

“Come here, your brows have grown a bit—I’ll trim them so they look neater. Your brow heads are too light, don’t use too much powder, just a soft brush stroke will do.”

“Did you remove your makeup last time? Not removing it really damages your skin.”

“And don’t forget to use facial masks. Skip the whitening or anti-wrinkle ones for now—just use hydrating masks every few days.”

After shaping the brows, Yu Xiangan gently touched her face. “You’ve done your skincare, so let’s start with the base primer.”

Lin Yining stood beside them watching closely, and Ye Qijia also watched with interest.

A light makeup didn’t take long—primer, concealer, a touch of eyeliner to accentuate the eyes, a sweep of blush, setting powder, and a soft, natural lipstick. That was it.

If her looks were a six before, now she was easily an eight.

Looking at her daughter’s fresh face, Ye Qijia touched her own and smiled, “Can you do me next? I want to see what I look like with makeup on.”

Yu Xiangan laughed. “Sure—go wash your face first.”

Yu Xianghai glanced at his wife’s eager expression and wisely kept silent.

This time, Yu Xiangan gave Ye Qijia a full makeover—brows, primer, foundation, concealer, eyeliner, eyeshadow, highlighter, blush, setting powder… By the end, she looked several years younger.

Yu Xianghai couldn’t hold back his astonishment. “What kind of sorcery is this?!”

She looked ten years younger—so much more radiant! The fine lines, blemishes, and spots from childbirth were all hidden. The deeper eyeliner and rosy lips made her glow. Yu Xianghai stared, blinking several times, unable to believe it was his wife. “Incredible,” he muttered.

For younger women, makeup made a subtle difference—but on Ye Qijia, the transformation was striking.

Ye Qijia looked in the mirror, stunned. Was that really her? It felt different from the time she had professional makeup at a photo studio—this time, it still looked like her, just refreshed, graceful, alive.

Her sister-in-law had done it casually at home—if she practiced, she might be able to do it too.

Lin Chuanbai smiled silently. He’d seen such things before—in the future, people would joke that East Asia had “the four great magic arts”: none of which were makeup, but face-changing. With makeup alone, men could look like women, women like men.

Yu Mingfeng rubbed his eyes, staring at his mother. “Is that really my mom? Not her younger sister?”

It was unbelievable.

Yu Mingyao giggled at her father’s shocked face. “Dad, isn’t Mom beautiful?”

Yu Xianghai coughed twice. “What nonsense are you talking about?”

He couldn’t bring himself to give direct compliments, but he nodded vaguely. “Yes… remarkable.”

A roundabout admission.

Ye Qijia blushed, feeling shy. “At my age, if I go out like this, people will laugh at me, won’t they?”

Yu Xiangan shook her head. “Sister-in-law, don’t say that—we’re the same generation, aren’t we? Most of the women I know wear makeup. Look around the streets—plenty of people do, and not just young girls. Makeup isn’t the privilege of those in their twenties—you’ll even see men wearing it nowadays.”

Ye Qijia blinked. “Men wear makeup too?”

“Of course. Once you tidy up a bit, put on something that suits you, you’ll look full of spirit—it’s lovely. Sister-in-law, take a set of these with you. They’re from my stock and will expire soon anyway.”

Lin Yining couldn’t hold back anymore. “Mom, don’t forget about me! I want makeup too—it looks so nice!”

Yu Xiangan smiled at her. “Alright, but you’re still young. Just use sunscreen or primer—that’s plenty. You already look good without anything else.”

She applied a light, natural look for Lin Yining—barely visible, just bright and fresh.

Ye Qijia still held onto her mirror, reluctant to look away. Suddenly, she understood why Yu Xiangan’s skincare and cosmetics business was doing so well. She had bought one of her sets before but never used it—except for the lipstick. Now she realized how much she’d missed out on.

If she’d known how flattering it was, she would have learned to use it long ago.

She hurried over to watch Yu Xiangan do Lin Yining’s makeup, trying to memorize the steps.

This was just a small reflection of a bigger trend.

More and more women were learning how to express themselves—not just through colorful clothing but through makeup as well.

Yu Xianghai, embarrassed to keep staring at his wife, turned toward Lin Chuanbai. “You made all these products, didn’t you?” he asked suddenly, realizing the connection.

Lin Chuanbai understood and admitted calmly, “Yes, I did. Xiangan could use them, so I developed a few formulas for her.”

Yu Xianghai fell silent, sensing his wife’s “why can’t you be like him” stare burning beside him. He rubbed his nose awkwardly.

This brother-in-law of his was really something. He treated his wife well, which made Yu Xianghai genuinely happy—except it also made him look terrible in comparison.

Yu Xiangan and Lin Chuanbai exchanged a smile. Their gazes met naturally, and the children instinctively looked away in practiced synchronization.

Yu Mingfeng and Yu Mingyao just sat there speechless.

Would they ever find partners who loved each other like that?

Yu Xianghai cleared his throat. “Aren’t you supposed to be researching pharmaceuticals? How do you have time to work on this stuff?”

Lin Chuanbai replied, “Time is something you make.”

Yu Xianghai could practically feel Ye Qijia’s approving gaze boring into him. He just sighed.

That night, when the couple lay in bed with the lights off, it looked like they were asleep—but in reality, they had entered their farm space.

Lin Chuanbai went to wash a bunch of grapes first, then headed into the workshop. He was considering what products to manufacture once the pharmaceutical factory acquisition went through.

Yu Xiangan popped a few grapes into her mouth, then glanced at the clear stream where fish swam freely. She caught one and began roasting it.

A midnight snack.

She made an extra portion for Lin Chuanbai, though once he got busy, he lost all sense of time—it would be a while before he stopped.

Yu Xiangan didn’t stay idle either.

She went to the pasture to collect milk and tend to the cattle and sheep.

Though the farm’s produce was still mostly for their own use, they had to keep raising livestock to continue upgrading.

Yu Xiangan couldn’t help feeling excited, wondering what new features the next upgrade might bring.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

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?

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

When Lin Chuanbai returned from the capital, Yu Xiangan asked, “What brought you back this time?”

Lin Chuanbai replied, “My mentor wanted me to join one of his projects. I turned it down. I helped out for a couple of days instead. How did the fight situation go?”

Yu Xiangan said, “It’s all been settled. Your son and the boy he fought, Zhang Tufei, actually became friends in the end. Sometimes, a fight leads to friendship.”

Lin Chuanbai nodded knowingly. “That’s how boys bond.”

Yu Xiangan smiled faintly. “I took them out to sell buns. And I’ve got some good news for you too.”

Lin Chuanbai raised an eyebrow. “Selling buns—trying to make them appreciate hard work? What’s the good news?”

Yu Xiangan replied, “I went to check on Changyao Pharmaceutical Factory. Business isn’t good. They’re barely holding on, but if the management doesn’t change soon, they won’t last much longer.”

Lin Chuanbai’s expression brightened. “Then I’ve got good news too. The new oral solution I developed works well for treating children’s fevers. It’s nearly ready for clinical testing.”

It wasn’t yet the era of mass layoffs at state enterprises, but by the 1980s, plenty of factories were already struggling. Government subsidies and bank loans had kept many afloat—but only barely.

Lin Chuanbai wanted to start a grassroots pharmacy—not one focused on high-end or critical illness drugs, but on simple, everyday medicines: cold medicine, fever reducers, iodine tincture, herbal cooling tea, and so on. At the university research institute, he still participated in major disease research projects, but his personal passion was for affordable daily-use treatments.

That obsession came from a memory before he crossed over: the old Taoist who raised him once fell seriously ill. They spent a fortune at hospitals without improvement, until someone recommended a cheap, little-known traditional medicine that cured him completely.

The experience left a deep impression. Lin Chuanbai had always wanted to make medicines like that available to every household.

Yu Xiangan supported him fully. “If you want to do it, then do it. It doesn’t have to make a fortune—as long as it pays for itself.”

Before long, a new helper arrived in Yangcheng—Wang Yongle, a capable older sister type. Her family had once run a martial arts school, but after some family troubles, she went out looking for work. Yu Xiangan hired her to accompany the twins. Since Lin Yining was a girl, it would be easier for her to talk to a woman, and having someone like Wang around would also prevent gossip.

---

Meanwhile, in a rural area, Li Quanfu, a man in his fifties, had spent his whole life farming. Before the founding of the new country, he and his parents worked for a landlord. After liberation, with no landlords left, he farmed collective land under state planning. Later, with the household responsibility reform, land was divided to individual families—Li could finally farm his own fields.

Farming was the only skill he had and his sole livelihood.

Working for the collective wasn’t the same as working for himself. The same field that used to yield 100 catties now gave him 120. Li was content with his life.

But his children didn’t want to farm. More and more young people were leaving for factory jobs in the cities, earning wages. His sons had left too, returning only during harvest season to help. Still, he and his wife managed fine. He thought life would simply continue this way—until something unexpected happened: at his age, he started earning wages again.

A big investor had leased a large stretch of land—fields, mountains, even marshes. Those mountains had recently been burned in a wildfire, leaving several charred slopes. The investor rented the land long-term and began hiring locals to help clean and restore it.

After clearing the land, they began choosing experienced farmers. Li Quanfu saw the wages offered and decided to try. If there was one thing he could still do well, it was farm.

To his delight, he was selected.

From then on, he had a steady monthly salary—and the fields were right near home.

His wife, his grandkids, and his small family plots were all nearby. It was a convenient life.

He wasn’t the only one. The project spanned three villages, employing many locals and even a few outsiders—some raised fish, others softshell turtles, sheep, or rabbits. Everyone brought their own expertise.

After a few months, Li wanted his sons to come back too. “Why work far away,” he thought, “when you can earn money right here and look after your family?”

Yu Xiangan was investing gradually. Expanding all at once would strain her finances too much.

She cleared the mountains bit by bit, following a plan—some areas for fruit trees, others for economic timber.

Li Quanfu recognized a few of the timber types—good wood for furniture, popular and profitable.

But such things couldn’t be rushed. Fruit trees and timber wouldn’t yield results for years. Yu Xiangan’s goal was to turn the place into a self-sustaining supply source—a “trustworthy kitchen,” as she called it. Too many ingredients these days were full of additives. Nothing was safer than what you grew yourself.

“Investment promotion” had become a hot topic.

More and more local governments were seeking external funding to revive their economies. As long as a company was willing to build a factory, create jobs, and generate income, they would offer incentives—tax breaks, cheap or even free land, and support for construction.

Once a factory started up, it brought jobs; once people had income, the local economy grew.

Baishi County wanted to attract investment too. But it wasn’t on a major transportation route—it had only a small train stop and no natural resources—so bringing in investors was difficult.

In Yuxun Village, the village head, Yu Shunwen, was thinking hard about this very issue.

Their village had a paper mill and a brick factory. The paper mill was managed by the township, but the brick factory belonged entirely to the village. Thanks to those two, their village was considered prosperous—people even said it was easier for their men to marry city girls.

Still, Yu Shunwen and Yu Manchang thought it wasn’t enough.

After visiting the Special Economic Zone, both came back full of ambition.

Their first step was to reach out to Yu Mansheng, who ran a construction business. Many young men from their village had followed him out to work and knew he was making good money.

Yu Mansheng later came to consult Yu Xiangan. “What do you think—should I invest?”

Yu Xiangan shrugged lightly. “If you want to invest, do it. But if you’re thinking of it as charity, then separate the two. Business is for making money—the methods aren’t the same.”

Lin Chuanbai’s older brother, Lin Guangbai, who managed a development zone, had also invited Yu Xiangan to invest there. The policies were excellent, but after calculating her finances, Yu decided against it—it was too far away and not worth the travel or logistics cost for now.

The return on investment simply wasn’t what she wanted.

If asked whether she wanted to invest back in her hometown, Yu Xiangan felt neutral. “If I do, fine. If not, also fine.” The cost wouldn’t be huge anyway. She thought maybe she could start with fruit production—the peaches grown there tasted good. If the brand caught on, she could even build a small cannery for preserved fruit.

From a purely business standpoint, though, it wasn’t the best option.

“If it’s just for profit,” she thought, “investing back home isn’t ideal. But if it’s for goodwill, then maybe fix the school, or repair the roads.”

Yu Mansheng nodded. “I’ll think it over when I get back.”

He needed to check his funds first—his capital wasn’t nearly as strong as Yu Xiangan’s.

Yu Xiangan herself hadn’t ruled out other locations either. The local investment incentives were good—but for now, she still had plenty to build right where she was.

No hurry.

Let a couple more years pass first.

Then, one day, Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiangan received a parcel. It had been sent through a friend by Wu Zheng — inside was a ginseng root more than sixty years old.

Back when Wu Zheng had gone to the capital, Lin Chuanbai had given her a hundred-year-old ginseng. She’d later used it, and ever since, she’d wanted to replace it with something similar to return to him. But she hadn’t been able to find one — until now. This seventy-year-old ginseng had taken her a long time to acquire.

When Lin Chuanbai opened the package, he felt a bit helpless. The original ginseng had been a gift, but Wu Zheng hadn’t wanted to accept it. Now she was sending one back. He didn’t need it — not at all.

If she wanted to send something, he thought, it’d be better to send rarer medicinal ingredients, like saffron.

At this point, Lin Chuanbai could practically call himself a wholesale expert in ginseng.

Yu Xiangan couldn’t help but laugh. “If you ever sold all the ginseng from your herbal garden, you’d cause a market crash.”

Lin Chuanbai replied, “Would that be such a bad thing? It’s an enormous asset.”

Old ginseng only grew rarer with time — valuable and increasingly impossible to find. Wealthy people who managed to keep one as a family heirloom would never hesitate to do so.

*

Meanwhile, Lu Anran was setting up a business opportunity.

She had a friend who wanted to start a daily chemical products company — things like body wash and shower gel — but was short on funds. So Lu Anran arranged a small social gathering at a beauty salon. All women, chatting while getting massages and skincare — a relaxed environment to build rapport and discuss cooperation naturally.

On the way there, Lu Anran introduced her friend to Yu Xiangan. “Her name’s Liang Yuan. We were high school classmates. After graduation, she went to college in the U.S., got married there, had a child, and returned to Hong Kong a few years ago. Her husband’s also Chinese — he still manages their American business. She’s a strong-minded woman, ambitious but not rigid. Even if this partnership doesn’t work out, she’s worth keeping as a friend.”

When they arrived, Liang Yuan was already waiting — dressed in a stylish but casual suit, long golden waves cascading over her shoulders. Her arched brows and bright red lips drew attention immediately.

When her gaze landed on Yu Xiangan, a brief flicker of surprise flashed across her eyes.

Compared to herself, Yu’s attire was more understated — that wasn’t unusual — but she truly didn’t expect her to be around the same age.

Liang Yuan’s lips curved upward. She extended a slender, manicured hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Yu Xiangan smiled and shook it. “Likewise.”

Lu Anran chuckled. “Alright, enough formalities. Let’s head in and talk.”

Their hands brushed briefly and separated.

Yu Xiangan thought, Her hand is unbelievably smooth…

She caught herself mid-thought — that sounded strange. If she were a man, she mused, it’d probably seem pervy. But she was only being honest. Liang Yuan’s hands were incredibly well maintained.

Liang Yuan smiled wider, seeming to guess her thought. “I studied piano for several years. I’ve always been very particular about my hands.”

Lu Anran added, “She trained under a master pianist. You’ll know how talented she is once you hear her play.”

Yu Xiangan smiled. “Then I’ll look forward to it.”

Once inside, Lu Anran asked, “Want to try a facial mask?”

Yu Xiangan shook her head lightly. “No, just a massage for me.”

Liang Yuan said, “I’ll have a hand treatment.”

Lu Anran nodded. “Then I’ll get a massage too — loosen up my shoulders. By the way, do you two like jade? There’s a shop that just brought in some exquisite pieces — want to stop by afterward?”

At that time, jade prices hadn’t yet surged.

Liang Yuan said, “Jade? I love high-ice glass bracelets.”

Lu Anran laughed. “I’m different — I don’t have any particular taste. Apart from gemstones. Gems are my true love. For everything else, if it looks good, I like it. No taste, right?”

Yu Xiangan smiled faintly. “What’s taste? If you like it, then it’s good.”

Her own preferences were simple and direct — if she thought it looked good, she liked it. Still, she occasionally stocked up on pieces that might appreciate in value, like jade. Its prices had been rising rapidly, and fine jade was perfect as an heirloom. Mines were limited — good jade would only grow more expensive with time.

“Then let’s go to that store later,” Yu said.

Liang Yuan turned to Lu Anran. “Why didn’t you bring your kids today? No school, right?”

Lu Anran sighed. “They wanted to go to the zoo. Their father took them. I offered to bring them here, but they refused.”

Liang Yuan looked impressed. “Their father took them himself?”

Lu Anran nodded. “Yes.”

Liang Yuan smiled wistfully. “That’s a good father. My husband’s always buried in work — barely has time for the child.”

Lu Anran said, “He’s busy too. Days like this are rare. The three of us — we’re all about the same, juggling careers.”

Yu Xiangan glanced at Liang Yuan’s slim waistline. “How old is your child?”

Liang Yuan smiled. “Nine. A boy.”

Yu Xiangan laughed. “Then my kids are the oldest.”

Lu Anran said, “You married earlier. In a few years your kids will be in college, while mine will just start grade school.”

Yu Xiangan waved her hand lightly. “That doesn’t matter. I just don’t want them marrying too soon. If someone calls me Grandma or Nana, I’ll feel ancient.”

She always kept a youthful mindset — in her own words, her mental age was permanently eighteen.

“Mom” and “Dad” were fine titles. But “Grandma” or “Nana”? That was a lot harder to accept.

She’d never pressure her children to marry early — no matter when that day came.

Liang Yuan laughed softly. “You have twins, right? Do they look identical? Same height, same face — hard to tell apart?”

Yu Xiangan chuckled. “Not quite. They don’t look exactly alike, but when they stand together, you can tell they’re siblings.”

Liang Yuan sighed a little. “You’re lucky. I only have one son. I wanted to have a daughter too, but it hurt too much. Even now, thinking about it makes me shudder. My body couldn’t handle another pregnancy — one was enough.”

Lu Anran comforted her. “Your boy’s bright and adorable. One’s enough when he’s worth three of anyone else’s. If you don’t want another, don’t.”

She knew exactly how hard that pregnancy had been on her friend — the morning sickness, the complications. For Liang Yuan, giving birth had been like losing half her life.

Yu Xiangan, on the other hand, had had a smooth delivery. When she gave birth, even the doctor had said in surprise, “So fast!” No trauma, no fear — she could have had another if she’d wanted, but she and Lin Chuanbai had agreed two were enough.

Liang Yuan smiled faintly. “You two are lucky.”

Yu Xiangan asked, “Where does your child study?”

Liang Yuan said, “In the U.S. His grandparents are looking after him there. What about yours? Do your two stay with you?”

Yu Xiangan replied, “They’re in Yangcheng, living with their father.”

The conversation drifted naturally from topic to topic, helping them learn more about each other.

After all, if two people’s values didn’t align, no partnership would last — this was the process.

A business partner who wasn’t reliable was like throwing money into a river.

After the massage, Liang Yuan finished her hand treatment, and the three women moved to their next stop — the jewelry shop Lu Anran had mentioned.

Gold, gemstones, diamonds, jade, amber — the store had it all.

It was clearly a high-end establishment, and Yu Xiangan immediately spotted several fine pieces.

The staff had sharp eyes too. After one look at their outfits, they rushed over with eager smiles.

“Welcome, ladies! Our store carries a full selection of jewelry. Would you like to look at gold pieces, or jade today?”

Lu Anran said, “Let’s start by looking at the jade.”

“Of course, this way please,” the salesperson replied brightly, leading them toward the jade section. “These are our latest designs from this year. This entire set is crafted from high-ice glass-type jade — we have matching necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and brooches.”

When the salesperson noticed Liang Yuan’s eyes light up, she focused her pitch on her. “Would you like to try it on? I’m sure it will make you look even more stunning.”

The set happened to be exactly Liang Yuan’s favorite kind — high-ice glass jade. She examined it briefly and said at once, “Alright, help me put it on. I want to see how it looks.”

Two other salespeople came to greet Lu Anran and Yu Xiangan.

Yu Xiangan said, “I’d like to see something a little more elegant. And I’m also looking for a pair of pendants for my son and daughter — do you have any recommendations?”

The salesperson beamed. “For elegance, I’d highly recommend this set. Just look at the purity — I can guarantee you won’t find many pieces like this elsewhere.”

It was an emerald-green set, and when Yu Xiangan glanced at it, the brilliance nearly dazzled her eyes.

“May I take a closer look?” she asked.

“Of course,” the salesperson said.

Just as Yu Xiangan picked it up to examine it, a voice suddenly spoke from behind. “That’s such a beautiful set. Are there more like it?”

The voice sounded familiar. She turned — and froze for a second.

Ke Manyun.

Her old university classmate.

It had been years since they’d last met. The last time was at Wuwei Restaurant in the capital — Ke Manyun and Liu Mingyue had gone there together, and the evening had ended unpleasantly. After that, Yu Xiangan had completely put the woman out of her mind.

Ke Manyun worked at a state-owned company in the capital. What was she doing here — and on the arm of a man?

She’s married?

When Ke Manyun saw Yu Xiangan, her expression flickered too, then quickly turned into a bright, practiced smile. “Well, if it isn’t you, Vice Monitor! Long time no see.”

Yu Xiangan kept her tone neutral. The unpleasantness back then hadn’t been serious — just Ke’s jealousy showing. “It has been a while. I thought you were still in the capital. When did you come here?”

Ke Manyun smiled. “Not long ago. What a coincidence running into you here.”

Lu Anran walked over, glancing between them. “Ran into someone you know?”

Yu Xiangan smiled politely. “An old classmate from university.”

That phrase — “an old classmate” — carried a certain distance. It implied that apart from once being in the same class, there wasn’t much of a relationship left.

Both women understood it perfectly.

Ke Manyun lowered her gaze, her tone softening with feigned sentiment. “Yes, we were classmates in college. It’s been so many years, separated in different cities — time really changes things, doesn’t it?” The words implied that they had once been close, only to drift apart because of distance.

The man beside her cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Ke Manyun said sweetly, “This is my college classmate and former vice monitor, Yu Xiangan. And this is my husband, Li Zhimu — he’s from Hong Kong.”

Yu Xiangan nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

Li Zhimu smiled warmly. “So you’re all classmates? And this lady as well?” He looked toward Lu Anran with interest. “Your class must’ve been full of beautiful women. What a pity I wasn’t there back then — I could’ve met you all sooner.”

The compliment sounded sincere enough that Yu Xiangan studied him briefly.

He was on the short and slender side, wearing thin silver-rimmed glasses that gave him a scholarly look. On his wrist gleamed a luxury watch she recognized — worth tens of thousands at least. Clearly a man of means.

Few women disliked being praised for their looks. Lu Anran smoothed her hair and smiled playfully. “Then I’ll take that as genuine flattery. I’m Lu Anran — this is my cousin. Nice to meet you.”

Just then, Liang Yuan returned from trying on her jewelry. Her gaze landed on Li Zhimu, and she hesitated before blurting out, “It’s you?”

“Mrs. Chen!” he said with a surprised laugh. “What a coincidence! When did you come to the Special Zone?”

They knew each other.

And Li Zhimu’s enthusiasm toward Liang Yuan was… a little too much. So much that Ke Manyun’s expression stiffened noticeably.

Liang Yuan was the kind of woman who naturally set off other women’s alarms.

Li Zhimu smiled graciously. “What a pleasant surprise. It’s almost lunchtime — allow me to treat everyone. I know a great restaurant nearby. How about we go there together?”

As fate would have it, the restaurant he mentioned was the very one owned by Yu Xiangan and her younger brother, Yu Mansheng.

Yu Xiangan couldn’t help but laugh. “If you mean that one, then what a coincidence indeed — that hotel belongs to my brother and me.”

Li Zhimu and Liang Yuan both looked startled.

Li Zhimu chuckled. “Truly? I’ve been there twice — the food was excellent. What an honor to dine with the owners today! Will there be any special dishes off the menu?”

Yu Xiangan smiled. “Of course. We’ll bring out the best we’ve got.”

Originally, this gathering was meant to let Lu Anran introduce Yu Xiangan and Liang Yuan to see if they could work together. But after running into Li Zhimu, the whole conversation took a turn.

Watching how attentively Li Zhimu spoke to Liang Yuan, Ke Manyun’s smile began to look forced.

He called her “Mrs. Chen” and maintained a polite tone, but his eager attitude made her uncomfortable.

Still, he didn’t seem to notice her silence — he went right on chatting amiably with Liang Yuan and Yu Xiangan.

When the restaurant owner appeared, the kitchen went into high alert — the dishes came out fast and flawless.

As they ate, Li Zhimu said, “It’s even better than the last two times I came.”

Liang Yuan agreed. “It’s wonderful. I’ll definitely come again.”

Near the end of the meal, Liang Yuan finally brought up the main topic. “I have a friend who sent me some product samples — formulas for shampoo and body wash she’s been developing. I tested them, and they work well. Since I’m back in Hong Kong now, I’d like to set up a factory here in the Special Zone to produce them. What do you all think?”

At that, Li Zhimu adjusted his glasses, his lips curling into a pleased smile. “What a coincidence. I just acquired a plot of land that’s still vacant. If you need it, please don’t hesitate. I’ve been wanting to enter this industry myself — if Mrs. Chen could give me the chance to collaborate, I’d be delighted.”

Liang Yuan looked toward Yu Xiangan. “What about you? I wonder what you think.”

Yu Xiangan glanced once at Li Zhimu. “If it’s profitable, I’m naturally interested. But I do have a question…”

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

When Ding Minxiu heard her mother say those four words, she stopped in her tracks, looking over in confusion. “What did you say?”

Zhao Qiaoniang slowly forced out the rest. “…If you hadn’t ended up with your husband back then, wouldn’t our lives be different now?”

Maybe they wouldn’t be working themselves to exhaustion—barely getting a few days off each month, and even on those rare rest days, unable to catch their breath.

They had to go out and earn money. The family needed it. There was no other choice.

Ding Minxiu’s face went cold, her voice sharp. “Mom, what are you even saying? If I hadn’t been with Boyang, would I be living like this now?”

She took a breath. “If I hadn’t been with him, I would’ve been sent to the countryside. You know how many educated youth never came back. And those who did, most had families and baggage. Is that what you wanted for me?”

Her voice rose. “Did you forget? Take the Yu family’s Yuxianghe—she went to the countryside and never came back. You only have one daughter—me. How could you have let me go?”

Zhao Qiaoniang’s lips trembled. “How could I have wanted that? But there was nothing I could do…”

Being with Zhou Boyang meant her daughter didn’t have to toil in the fields, but did that mean life was easy now?

She had once thought her grandson was a good, filial boy—but now he had a job and still lazed around, constantly asking them for money to support his own child. And here she was, an old woman, still having to travel far from home to work.

She didn’t know when he would ever grow up, but she knew her own strength was fading. Her body ached constantly, she was getting weaker, more tired by the day.

Ding Minxiu gave a bitter laugh. “‘Nothing you could do’? Ha. If we’re talking about ‘ifs,’ then why didn’t you ‘if’ me into being born a boy? If I’d been a boy, you wouldn’t have been cast aside. Dad wouldn’t have divorced you. I was your only child—if I’d been a boy, I wouldn’t have been sent away to the countryside!”

Her household registration had always been tied to her biological father. After he remarried and had a son, only one child per family could stay in the city. Knowing her father, there was no question—a son would stay; a daughter would go.

The more she spoke, the more resentment seeped into her words. “If I’d been born a boy, our family would’ve stayed together. I wouldn’t have been sent away. You wouldn’t have had to remarry. Everything would’ve been fine.”

Tears rolled down Zhao Qiaoniang’s face. Her voice shook. “You’re cutting my heart open with those words…”

Did she not wish her child had been a son? She’d dreamed of it.

Daughters had to marry out someday; sons were the ones who stayed and cared for their parents. Because she’d given birth to a girl, she’d been treated like a beast of burden in the Ding family—almost worked to death. And when she returned to her own parents’ home, they hadn’t treated her kindly either.

They’d helped when they could, but they weren’t long-lived. Within a few years, they were gone. Desperate, she had nearly taken her daughter and ended it all—until the Yu family came asking if she’d help care for their children. They offered her and her daughter food and a roof, and she’d said yes.

It had been her best option at the time.

At the Yu household, she’d finally enjoyed a few peaceful years.

But Ding Minxiu sneered. “Oh yes, once you got there, you put Yuxiangju on a pedestal. You forgot he wasn’t even related to you by blood! I was your only child, but you treated him better than me. Whenever there was something good to eat, the biggest portion always went to him—the smallest one to me!”

Her resentment hadn’t faded even after all these years.

Zhao Qiaoniang said quietly, “…He was so much younger than you—just a child. I only gave him a little extra food. You didn’t get any less.” She herself had eaten the least.

Ding Minxiu snapped, “You fed him more because he was a boy, not because he was small! Wake up! He wasn’t even your son!”

Zhao Qiaoniang’s heart felt like it had been sliced open. “…I know he wasn’t my son.” If only she really had a son.

She drew a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

But Ding Minxiu wouldn’t stop. “If you’d made me a boy, none of this would’ve happened. If you’d remarried someone rich and powerful, I wouldn’t be living like this. You can’t blame me—you have no right to. You couldn’t help me, so I had to help myself! And look, I made it, didn’t I? Sure, there were setbacks, but my life now isn’t bad.” Her tone softened as she spoke.

Some of her classmates had gone to the countryside.

When they were finally allowed to return, they were weathered and rough-handed.

Few came back alone, and those who did often had messy personal lives—some had abandoned husbands or children. Returning didn’t guarantee happiness. They had no jobs, no income, and marriage prospects were bleak—usually older divorced men.

Whenever Ding Minxiu saw them, she felt a surge of relief and gratitude for her own choices.

Gradually, her emotions calmed. “Why are you bringing all this up now?” she asked.

Zhao Qiaoniang wiped her tears. “I happened to see Yu Xiangan today.”

Ding Minxiu froze. “You saw her? Did she see you? How is she? Where?” The questions came rapid-fire, almost without a pause.

Zhao lowered her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “…She looked well. She didn’t see me. I was off to the side—saw her when I was handing out flyers today.”

Ding Minxiu’s voice turned cool. “Of course she’s doing well. Why wouldn’t she be? She married a good man, has twins—a son and a daughter. Naturally, her life is comfortable.”

Zhao stayed silent. Should she tell her what she’d overheard today? She smiled bitterly. If her daughter found out, she’d only stew in anger—and it might make her sick.

Ding Minxiu pressed on. “Do you know where she lives? Maybe we could find Yuxiangju through her. Even if we don’t contact them now, knowing where to look would help later.”

Zhao shook her head. “I just saw her outside. How would I know?” Even if she did, she wouldn’t tell. The idea of appearing before the Yu family—any of them but Yuxiangju—filled her with shame.

“I see…” Ding Minxiu sounded disappointed. “Then take more flyer jobs near the Food City. Maybe you’ll run into her again—pay attention next time.”

Zhao murmured, “…No. I don’t want to go back there.”

Making money on Yu Xiangan’s turf made her uneasy.

---

After arriving at the Food City, Yu Xiangan first walked a full circle, observing the crowds and gauging the staff’s service. She randomly picked two shops that caught her interest and sampled their food.

Gu Nanfeng, standing beside her, smiled confidently.

Everything here was thriving.

Yu Xiangan was clearly pleased—the operation ran like clockwork.

Gu Nanfeng said, “That’s because of the rules you set, Boss. Everything runs by your system.”

He had deep respect for her.

He’d been one of the earliest to follow her from the capital—back when they had just one Wuwei Restaurant and one hotpot shop. Now, there were hundreds of Wuwei branches.

There had been challenges along the way, but for her, no problem ever seemed unsolvable. The expansion had never stopped.

He himself had benefited, growing alongside the company—from a small restaurant manager to the general manager of the entire chain.

He’d truly made something of himself now. His stepmother and half-brother, who once looked down on him, now had very complicated expressions whenever they saw him. Every time he thought about it, it felt like gulping an ice-cold soda on a sweltering day—refreshing and satisfying.

This life hadn’t come easily, and he cherished it deeply. He double-checked everything meticulously. So when the boss decided to make a surprise inspection, he didn’t panic at all.

Yu Xiangan truly didn’t find anything improper during her inspection. She then went to the office, reviewed financial reports, signed the necessary documents, and by the time she finished everything and left, it was already dark outside.

Checking the time, she immediately called back to Yangcheng. Zhao Shanhe was living with the twins, so even though Lin Chuanbai was out of town, their safety wasn’t a concern.

When the phone connected, Lin Yihong greeted her sweetly, “Mom, have you eaten yet?”

Yu Xiangan smiled. “I have. What about you two?”

“We’ve eaten too.”

Yu got straight to the point. “I got a call from your father today. He said your teacher wants to meet with the parents. What happened?”

Lin Yihong hesitated. He had been in small scuffles before—kids playing around often led to little fights—but nothing serious enough for a teacher to call home. This was the first time.

He hurried to explain, “Mom, I can explain. Ningning was at her Sanda (kickboxing) class, and I was in my martial arts class. When I went to pick her up, I saw a man sneaking behind her. I thought he wanted to hurt her, so I fought him. Later it turned out I misunderstood—he was actually helping chase off some delinquents. I hit the wrong person.” His voice grew smaller near the end.

Yu Xiangan asked, “Who was he? Who were the delinquents? Are you hurt?”

Lin Yining came closer and spoke up, “Mom, let me explain. A high schooler named Huang Hua wanted me to be his girlfriend. I refused, and he kept bothering me. Just then, Zhang Tufei passed by and helped chase him off. They scuffled a bit, and when my brother came to find me, he saw Zhang Tufei close to me and thought he was trying to harass me—so he punched him. They started fighting before realizing the mistake. A teacher saw them and called all three of our parents.”

Yu Xiangan sighed. “…You’re okay? And your brother?”

So her daughter was already at the age where boys started confessing?

Lin Yining said cheerfully, “I’m fine! My brother’s fine too—just a little bruise on his face. But when he showed up, Mom, he looked so cool!”

Lin Yihong snorted, touching his swollen lip. He regretted being so impulsive. Seeing that guy standing so close to his sister had made him remember the kidnapping incident; before he could think, he’d thrown a punch.

Yu Xiangan exhaled. “Alright, wait for me tomorrow. I’ll be there on time.”

---

The next day at the school office, Yu arrived to find two other parents and their sons already there—a man and a woman.

Mr. Chen, the teacher, made introductions. “This is Zhang Tufei’s father, this is Huang Hua’s mother, and this is Lin Yihong’s mother.”

Yu immediately turned to Zhang’s father and apologized. “I’m really sorry. Your son was trying to help my daughter, but my son misunderstood and acted rashly. How is Zhang now?”

Mr. Zhang laughed kindly. “It’s alright, just a misunderstanding. Boys should be responsible—it’s good he stood up for someone.” Zhang Tufei smiled too, though his bruised face twitched in pain.

Huang Hua’s mother, however, was livid. “My son was beaten! You’d better give me an explanation! Clearly, your kids ganged up on him and then tried to smear his name!”

Lin Yining frowned. “Who bullied him? He’s a high schooler; we’re middle schoolers. I barely know him! If he hadn’t kept pestering me, I wouldn’t even recognize his face.” The whole thing disgusted her.

Mrs. Huang spat, “Nonsense! My son isn’t that kind of person! You little fox, flirting around at your age—now my son’s hurt, and you still won’t take responsibility? I won’t let this go!”

Yu Xiangan smiled calmly. “Mrs. Huang, I already spoke with my daughter. She was at her Sanda class. Tell me—why was your son hanging around there after school?”

Mrs. Huang was briefly at a loss, then raised her chin. “Can’t someone take a walk there? It’s a public street! Who are you to question that?”

Yu nodded mildly. “A walk, then. Huang Hua, is that your story too?”

Huang Hua’s face darkened. “Yeah. I was just walking.”

Immediately his mother’s voice rose again. “Exactly! He was just walking and got slandered for no reason! Saying he ‘liked’ this fox—I spit on that! She’s the one who’s shameless! You’ll pay for his medical bills and for his lost study time!”

Hearing “fox” over and over made Yu Xiangan’s patience snap. She pulled out an envelope. “Then how do you explain this letter?”

Lin Yining, angry but grateful she’d retrieved the note earlier, watched as her mother produced the evidence. Without it, she would’ve had no way to clear her name.

Seeing the letter, Huang Hua blurted, “Didn’t you throw that away?!”

His mother shot him a deadly glare and pinched his arm hard. He’d just confessed on the spot!

Yu said evenly, “So, Huang Hua, don’t you think you owe us an apology?”

Mrs. Huang shoved her son roughly. He turned his head away, silent. She smacked him. “You useless brat! I must’ve sinned in my last life to have you!” Then she turned to Yu, her teeth clenched. “I… misunderstood earlier.”

Yu’s eyes narrowed. “That’s your apology? You called my daughter a fox over and over—who exactly were you referring to?”

Lin Yining stared straight at her too. She liked dressing nicely, sure, but she had never done anything improper. She barely knew Huang Hua at all, and now she was being slandered for nothing—she refused to just take it.

Seeing both mother and daughter glaring at her, Mrs. Huang realized her son still had to attend this school and couldn’t afford to make enemies. She swallowed hard and forced the words out: “The ‘fox’ was me—my mistake. I spoke carelessly. I’m sorry. I misunderstood. She isn’t a fox, and you don’t owe us any medical costs.”

The homeroom teacher cleared his throat. “I’ve looked into the matter. Huang Hua, you need to reflect on your actions and focus on your studies. Your grades have dropped since entering high school. Zhang Tufei, you were brave but too impulsive—good intentions can still cause trouble if handled the wrong way. Lin Yihong, you too should learn from this.”

Although he addressed all three students, his tone clearly softened when he spoke to Zhang and Lin.

Mrs. Huang’s face twisted with anger. With a cold “hmph,” she grabbed her son and stormed out of the office.

Yu invited Zhang Tufei and his father out to dinner afterward to thank them for his son’s help.

Lin Yining mentioned that even if Huang Hua had gotten physical, she could’ve defended herself—her Sanda lessons weren’t for nothing. Still, she appreciated Zhang Tufei’s bravery.

It had been a tangle of good intentions gone wrong: one person trying to stop something, another misunderstanding, and fists flying before anyone could explain.

Later, Lin Yihong gave Zhang a formal apology. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve figured things out before acting. Please accept this small gift—I bought it with my own pocket money.”

The box was neatly wrapped. Zhang looked at his father, who nodded, so he accepted it. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

That night, back home, Yu asked Lin Yining, “You’re sure you’re not dating anyone, right?”

Lin Yining sighed. “Of course not.”

Yu smiled. “Good. Like I always say—wait until college.” Then she turned to Lin Yihong, giving him a thumbs-up. “Even if it was a misunderstanding, keep being a good big brother and protect your sister.”

Lin Yihong grew a little embarrassed and muttered softly, “She’s my sister. Isn’t it normal for me to protect her…”

Lin Yining looked at him and started laughing, which only made his face turn redder. “What are you looking at? Never seen me before?”

Lin Yining giggled. “Haha, I just think my brother got more handsome.”

Yu Xiangan, meanwhile, was thinking. With only Zhao Shanhe around to watch the twins, maybe she should add one more person.

Sometimes the twins had classes at different locations—if Lin Yining had Zhao Shanhe with her, there would have been no need for Zhang Tufei to step in at all.

But Lin Yining protested, “It’s just that I had class and couldn’t go buy the materials in time, so I asked Uncle Zhao to help. Next time I’ll coordinate better—Mom, you don’t need to find someone else.”

Yu Xiangan shook her head. “This time, I’ll hire a big sister or an auntie to help.”

It was still better to have an extra pair of eyes.

A sudden boom of thunder cracked through the sky, and the rain began to pour. Yu Xiangan looked toward the window. “It’s raining hard.”

Lin Yining gasped. “Oh no! The laundry!” She ran off to grab the clothes before they got soaked.

As she collected them, she clenched her little fists. If something ever happened again, she wanted to be able to fight back. She’d train even harder at Sanda. The day she could protect herself—surely it wouldn’t be far off.

Yu Xiangan decided to stay in Yangcheng for a while. With the heavy rain outside, she finally allowed herself a moment of peace.

Lin Chuanbai had been kept back in the capital by his mentor and would return later, so Yu Xiangan slowed down her own pace.

She often took the twins out to eat. Many new restaurants had opened in Yangcheng. As Lin Yining put it, “Know yourself and know your enemy—then you’ll never lose.”

And that was exactly how Yu Xiangan approached it—learning from others’ strengths.

Some places were cheap, others expensive, but every well-known one had its signature dishes.

She would occasionally stop by the local Wuwei Restaurants to check on operations, and she also visited department stores, co-ops, and small private shops to see how her factory’s instant noodles, sauces, and snacks were selling.

Sometimes she took walks around the factory housing areas to get a feel for things.

When Yu Xiangan told the twins that she used to make money by trading goods, they were shocked. “Really?”

“Of course,” she said with a grin. “Want to experience it yourselves?”

“Yeah!” they shouted eagerly.

So that weekend, they woke up at dawn to make steamed buns and dumplings.

Before sunrise, they set off with a bamboo basket tied to their bicycle. By the time they reached the housing district, the sky was brightening and people were heading out to buy vegetables and breakfast.

It was the twins’ first time selling anything, and facing the stream of people made them freeze up, unable to speak.

Fortunately, as they lifted the lid off the bamboo basket, the warm aroma of the buns wafted through the air. A few aunties immediately came over. “How much are your buns? What fillings do you have?”

Yu Xiangan gestured for the twins to answer, but Lin Yining opened her mouth and couldn’t get a word out. So Yu Xiangan stepped in, clearing her throat and replying crisply, “Plain mantou are six cents each, two for ten cents. Vegetable buns—mushroom, cabbage, or wood ear—are eight cents each. Meat buns and sugar buns are twelve cents.”

The first customer, an older woman, hesitated. “Do you have soy milk?”

Yu Xiangan smiled. “No soy milk today.”

“Alright then—give me two mantou, one meat bun, one sugar bun, and two cabbage ones. How much?”

A big first order! Lin Yihong did the math quickly. “Forty-eight cents.”

The woman chuckled. “Not bad, young man. How old are you? You still in school?”

Lin Yining wrapped the buns neatly in paper. Another person, drawn by the smell, came over. “How much are your buns? Haven’t seen you before—are you new?”

This time, Lin Yining found her voice and smiled brightly. “Yes, we’re new! First day selling. Try our buns—they’re delicious, you won’t regret it.”

Some customers took one to taste on the spot—and were soon full of praise. “These are great! Better than the ones I usually buy. Are you coming again tomorrow? I’ll buy from you then too.”

“This mushroom filling’s so tasty—give me two more to take home for my granddaughter.”

Lin Yining packed them up while answering, “We’ll be back tomorrow! After that, we’ll see. It’s our first time selling.”

There were several factories in the area, and many workers’ families lived nearby, so business was brisk. The twins could hardly keep up—one handed out buns while the other collected money. When it got crowded, they nearly tripped over themselves.

But the rush didn’t last forever. After the early surge, things quieted down.

They’d made several full trays of buns. Some people went out early, others later—but their prices were fair, and the smell alone drew buyers.

By around eight o’clock, they only had one steamer basket left.

By then, both twins were sweaty—partly from work, partly from nerves.

Wiping his forehead, Lin Yihong grabbed a bun for breakfast. They’d left too early to eat before. Now he was starving.

Lin Yining did the same and peeked into the money pouch. It was stuffed with small bills and coins. Even though it looked full, the total wasn’t much. After all the effort since midnight, this was all they’d made.

Making money really wasn’t easy.

She turned to tell her mother something—but saw that Yu Xiangan was chatting happily with some of the local aunties who’d come back from the market.

One woman asked, “Are you their big sister or sister-in-law? You look too young to be their mother.”

Yu Xiangan smiled warmly. “I’m their mother. Hard to believe, right?”

The auntie gasped. “Oh my, you look so young!”

Yu Xiangan laughed, clearly amused. “They’re just tall for their age—it makes them look older. Auntie, that’s the pharmacy over there, right? Why does it look so empty now? I remember it used to be quite busy.”

The woman sighed. “Used to be, yes. When the factory became independent, everyone said it was a good thing. But after a few good years, now no one wants to buy their medicine. I’ve got a friend working there—she used to get extra allowances, but now it’s just the base salary.”

Yu Xiangan feigned mild surprise. “So everyone there’s just living on base pay?”

The auntie nodded. “That’s right. Two or three hundred workers, all scraping by. Money’s worth less and less, but wages are even lower. It’s tough living.”

Yu Xiangan frowned slightly. “What’s the problem? How did it end up like this?”

The auntie said, “What problem? They can’t sell the medicine they make. It piles up in the warehouse. If the factory keeps producing, the stockpile just grows—and raw materials cost money too. So they cut hours, and pay less. I know plenty of people who’ve started doing side jobs to support their families. If you’ve got kids to feed, you can’t live on dead wages.” She shook her head with a sigh.

At this time, most people still believed that a government job was best. Those who left to start private businesses were often pitied—people assumed their luck wouldn’t last, even if they made money.

Yu Xiangan, ever the good listener, asked many questions about the factory.

She had her reasons. She’d heard the place was struggling and wanted to see just how bad things were.

After all, Lin Chuanbai had been thinking about acquiring a pharmaceutical plant—and here was one that was clearly underperforming.

How convenient.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

Yu Xiangan waited until the twins’ emotions had completely settled before she left.

She had to go back—her hotel project with Yu Mansheng was about to open, and she needed to oversee the launch.

More and more hotels were appearing in the area as the market continued to boom. With the influx of investors, guests no longer cared about price; what mattered was the quality of service and the taste of the food.

Yu Xiangan’s hotel had a traditional Chinese aesthetic. It wasn’t ostentatiously luxurious, but its Chinese cuisine earned great praise—especially from foreigners eager to try authentic local dishes.

Chinese food became a major selling point. With its distinct flavors, antique-style calligraphy, paintings, and decorations she’d collected, the hotel drew more and more attention.

One loyal customer, a foreigner named Clait, became an enthusiastic promoter. He told his friends, “If you come to a new country, you should stay in a place that reflects its culture and eat its local food—that’s the only way the trip is worthwhile.”

Business boomed at the grand opening, then dipped slightly, and finally stabilized.

Two months later, while reviewing the financial reports, Yu Mansheng said, “A hotel chain, huh? That’s a great idea.”

Even if he did nothing else, the steady income from these hotels would be enough to support both his children. It was a business built for the long haul.

Yu Xiangan nodded. “Good. Next, let’s open one by the sea—a seaside hotel. There’s a plot of land right by the main road.”

She spread out a map.

Yu Mansheng hesitated. “Isn’t that area a little remote?”

Yu Xiangan replied, “You can’t just look at the present. At the current pace of development, it won’t take long to reach there. Once it does, the land price will skyrocket.”

Yu Mansheng thought about it and realized she was right. “Alright! Let’s do it there.”

Meanwhile, Qin Shenghua took a vacation and returned to Baishi County to reunite with his younger brother, Qin Shengsong. After that, he traveled to the Special Economic Zone to meet Yu Xiangan, bringing a friend along.

The Northeast was rich in resources, and Yu wanted some of its ingredients for her hotel. The Northeastern side, in turn, needed a market for their products. Both sides quickly saw an opportunity, and during Qin’s vacation, they worked out the details—planning for long-term cooperation.

Qin Shenghua, now holding a respectable position in the Northeast, had a lean, muscular build and a crew cut. His smile was open and bright, but when he wasn’t smiling, his expression was stern and unapproachable.

He laughed and said, “It took me years to develop this face—it helps keep the young soldiers in line.”

Yu Xiangan didn’t get to see this older cousin often, but they wrote to each other frequently. Back in the seventies, she’d eaten plenty of Northeastern specialties thanks to him, while he’d enjoyed southern delicacies and sauces she mailed in return.

That brought up an old memory. Qin chuckled. “I still remember that spicy diced beef you made once and mailed me. I kept it by my bed. When I came back one day, my comrade had opened it, and only one spoonful was left! They tried to make it up to me by buying meat, but no matter what, they couldn’t recreate that flavor. I lost out big that time.”

Yu laughed. “After that, you wrote me a letter asking specifically for spicy diced beef. I made three big jars for you.”

Qin nodded. “That’s right—three jars. I took two home. My wife and son treasured them, eating just a little each time. It lasted two or three months.” Meat was hard to come by back then, let alone beef.

His eldest son was about to take the college entrance exam, and Yu naturally asked about him.

Qin said proudly, “He’s already decided—he wants to apply to a military academy. His physical fitness is excellent. Now it just depends on his grades.”

Following in his father’s footsteps—that’s what he hoped for. With him as a guide, his son could avoid many detours.

Yu nodded in understanding.

Qin added, “Things are different now—goods are plentiful, no ration tickets needed. As long as you have money, you can buy almost anything. I’ve heard the Special Zone has changed a lot.”

He’d been stationed in the Northeast for years, and during this vacation, he wanted to see Yu Xiangan—and see this new frontier of reform for himself.

Yu smiled. “Then let me be your tour guide. There are places here you’ll regret not seeing.”

Qin grinned. “Then I can’t miss them.”

Yu asked, “How many days off do you have?”

Qin replied, “Three more. Tomorrow I’ll look around, the day after I’ll visit a comrade’s family, then head straight back.”

Yu asked, “A comrade?”

Qin nodded. “Someone you know—his father is Lan Wangshan.”

Yu immediately remembered—the family they’d met on the train heading north to Qincheng years ago. Lan Wangshan’s son had been Qin’s comrade. He’d died in service.

Now that Qin was back, he intended to visit. “My comrade’s son just enlisted last year. There’s also a daughter still at home with their grandfather.”

When he returned from visiting the Lan family, he brought back a young girl. “This is Lan Xiaoni, my goddaughter. Her grandfather is away on business. She has something going on, so she’ll stay here for a few days until he comes to pick her up.”

Yu Xiangan was stunned. “What?”

Why had he suddenly brought a girl home?

Still, though puzzled, Yu kept a warm smile. “Xiaoni, how old are you?”

Lan Xiaoni fidgeted with her sleeves nervously. “Seventeen…”

Yu asked gently, “Still in school?”

Xiaoni nodded. “Yes, I’m in my second year of high school.”

After a few back-and-forth questions, the girl relaxed a bit.

“You’ll stay here for now,” Yu said kindly. “We’ve got bedding ready, and I’ll find you some clothes.”

The girl had come with nothing but the clothes on her back.

“If you need anything, just tell me.”

Once Xiaoni was out of earshot, Yu asked Qin what had really happened.

His face darkened with anger. “Her grandfather was away, and she was alone at home. Her uncle and aunt lived next door—not strangers, but worse. While no one else was around, they decided to marry her off. Poor child—lost her father first, then her sick mother. She was being raised by her grandfather. Now her brother’s in the army, and she’s in school. She was just starting to have a good life, but her uncle took a high bride price to marry her off to a lame man in his thirties. Their plan was to force the marriage before anyone could stop it—once the deal was done, they’d use the money to get their own son a wife. Even if her grandfather or brother came back later, it would’ve been too late.”

He still looked shaken. “When I got there, she was locked in the house—couldn’t even run. Luckily, I arrived just in time.”

Yu sighed deeply. “Then she should stay here until her grandfather comes. She’ll still need to go back to school, right?”

Qin nodded. “Her uncle already withdrew her from school. But at her age, what else can she do if she doesn’t study? Even if she doesn’t get into college, a high school diploma is still valuable—it’ll help her find work later.”

At that time, a high school education was already respectable.

Yu assured him, “Don’t worry. While she’s here, I’ll take good care of her.”

So Lan Xiaoni stayed. Qin had already called ahead, and Lan Wangshan would be coming soon to fetch her.

Xiaoni was a quiet, timid girl who rarely spoke. Yu, afraid she’d get lonely, kept the TV on for her every day and told her where to find newspapers and magazines. If there were any books she wanted, Yu promised to bring them back for her.

If she ever got bored staying indoors, Yu Xiangan told Lan Xiaoni to go outside for a walk.

Yu Qingshan was also very kind to the young girl. Whenever he saw her wanting to help with something, he let her lend a hand.

Being useful—rather than just sitting around—made her visibly more relaxed and at ease.

Within a week, Lan Wangshan arrived, covered in dust from traveling.

His eyes were bloodshot, and when he saw Yu Xiangan, he looked deeply apologetic as he handed over the gifts he’d brought. “I’m sorry for all the trouble. It’s my family’s shame—my fault for not teaching them better.”

Yu Xiangan shook her head. “Uncle Lan, don’t be too upset. Without you, life would be so much harder for Qianqian.”

Lan Wangshan forced a small smile. “Don’t worry. I know my limits. I still need to live a long life and take good care of her. I’ve taken early retirement, so from now on, I’ll stay by her side. As long as I’m here, nothing will happen to her.”

At that, Lan Xiaoni suddenly burst into tears and threw herself into his arms. “Grandpa! Grandpa! I was so scared—”

She hadn’t cried once in front of Yu Xiangan or Qin Shenghua, but in her grandfather’s arms, she could no longer hold it in.

Her sobs brought tears to Lan Wangshan’s own eyes.

“There, there, don’t be afraid. Grandpa’s here now. I’m not going anywhere again. Oh, and we’re moving—to your godfather’s place. He’s already arranged a new school for you. You’ll continue studying there, understand?”

“Moving?” Lan Xiaoni blinked in surprise. “Not staying with Uncle’s family anymore…?”

Lan Wangshan patted her head. “From now on, he’s no longer your uncle. If we stayed there, we’d have to see them every day—it would only upset us. We’ll move closer to your brother instead.”

Lan Xiaoni smiled through her tears. “Alright, we’ll go be with Brother.”

After resting for a day, Lan Wangshan took Lan Xiaoni and left.

Yu Qingshan sighed. “It’s one thing for her aunt to be like that, but how could her uncle just stand by and let it happen? Her father was a martyr, and her grandfather’s a righteous man—how did he raise a son like that?”

At that moment, Yu Mansheng’s family walked in and overheard. He laughed. “Second Uncle, you know the saying—‘Nine sons of a dragon, each different from the rest.’ There’s also ‘a tiger father can have a dog son, and a dog father can have a tiger son.’ It comes down to personality and upbringing. Education is key. Even if someone’s born with a bad temperament, the right guidance can set them straight.”

His explanation was smooth and reasoned, leaving Yu Qingshan staring at him in surprise. “Have you been taking lessons lately?”

Yu Mansheng brushed his hair back sheepishly. “Actually, yes. My daughter’s about to start kindergarten, so I’ve been researching options, but I can’t find a good one. I wanted to ask if you knew any.”

Lu Anran had found one earlier, but just a few days ago, a neighbor happened to stop by at lunchtime and caught a teacher secretly pinching a child. It turned out it wasn’t the first time—it had just gone unnoticed because the kids were too young to explain what was happening. The incident caused an uproar. After hearing that, Lu Anran refused to send her daughter there.

She sighed. “I checked out other kindergartens too, but they’re all about the same. Lunches are just plain vegetables—no meat at all, the kids can’t eat that. And one teacher is responsible for dozens of children—how could she manage? One’s crying, one wets the bed, another’s thirsty… even if she had six arms, she couldn’t handle it. Some schools are better, but they’re too far away.”

She wasn’t asking for perfection, but there was no way she could leave her child somewhere she didn’t trust.

Yang Huili said, “Then don’t send her to kindergarten! I can take care of the child myself, can’t I?”

Yu Mansheng explained patiently, “Mom, that’s not the same. In kindergarten, she learns to interact with other kids, with teachers—it’s important for development.”

Yang Huili gave him a look. “You didn’t go to kindergarten, and you turned out fine.”

Yu Mansheng countered, “That’s because we couldn’t afford it back then. But now that we can, why not give her the chance? When she grows up, all the other kids will have gone to kindergarten—what’ll we say then?”

That silenced her. “Then maybe I’ll bring her lunch myself and stay there during the day to keep an eye on her. That way, no one can bully her.”

She was more worried about bullying than about food. Breakfast and dinner were at home anyway, and the child could bring snacks for lunch.

But Yu Mansheng shook his head. “That won’t work. When the younger one goes to kindergarten too, you can’t be in two places at once. We need to find a school we can truly trust.”

Lu Anran turned to Yu Xiangan for advice.

Yu Xiangan said, “When our twins were little, we sent them to a nursery nearby. The teachers were kind and took good care of them. They didn’t learn much academically, but we had time to teach them at home after school.”

Lu Anran frowned. “We don’t have that much time. If nothing else works, I’ll just try to come home early. She can go to kindergarten to play, and I’ll handle the learning later.”

It was hard—she wanted a place that both cared for children and actually taught them something.

Yu Xiangan sighed. “If you can’t find both, you’ll have to give one up. Unless it’s your own school, you can’t have it all.”

Lu Anran’s eyes lit up. “You’re right!”

Yu Xiangan blinked. “Huh?”

Lu Anran said excitedly, “I can build my own! What do you think of a bilingual kindergarten? English programs here are terrible. I’ll look into the policies—if I open it right near home, we won’t have to worry anymore.”

Yu Xiangan stared. “…You’re serious?”

Yang Huili was speechless too. Build a school? Was that so easy? But after thinking about it—well, it was just a kindergarten, not a university—so she didn’t object.

They were making good money anyway, so she let them do as they pleased.

Lu Anran threw herself into the project with her usual fiery energy. At first, Yu Mansheng thought it unnecessary, but once she set her mind on something, nothing could stop her. So he helped instead—finding a small, safe building and remodeling it with child safety as the top priority.

They even hired an English-speaking teacher from Hong Kong and arranged for lunches from the Wuwei Restaurant, ensuring every meal was healthy and balanced.

The fees were several times higher than other kindergartens, so it wasn’t for ordinary families—but the children received bilingual lessons, cognitive learning, and nutritious lunches with both vegetables and meat.

By the time little Yu Cailan enrolled, about twenty other children of similar age joined as her classmates, with one teacher for every six or seven kids.

The kindergarten problem was solved.

Yu Xiangan teased, “So when she’s ready for primary school, are you going to open one of those too?”

Lu Anran laughed. “There’s still time before that. I’ll see how things go. Primary schools should be fine—kids are older and can tell adults if something’s wrong. We could even send her to school in Hong Kong, but her father won’t agree, and honestly, I’d miss her too. So, no.”

Every parent wanted to come home and see their child right away—that was reason enough to keep her close.

Still, Yu Xiangan had to admit that, compared to Hong Kong, local schools just couldn’t keep up in quality or teachers. It wasn’t like in later years, when private schools could afford top instructors.

One day, on her way to Wuwei Restaurant, Yu Xiangan’s phone rang. She pulled out her large mobile handset—it immediately drew attention.

That thing cost tens of thousands of yuan.

People passing by couldn’t help but stare.

Anyone who could afford a “brick phone” like that was obviously rich.

Song Dong, standing nearby, stayed extra alert, watching the people around them carefully—worried someone might get greedy at the sight of wealth.

Yu Xiangan could feel all the stares from passersby. Every time she pulled out her big mobile phone, people looked at her like she was from another world. She still wasn’t used to it.

Compared to the sleek smartphones of later generations, this thing—nicknamed “the brick”—was bulky and inconvenient. But inconvenient or not, she had no choice. The technology of the time was what it was.

It was Lin Chuanbai calling. She had one of these phones, and so did he—so it was easy for them to stay in touch.

On the other end, Lin said, “Where are you? Are you free tomorrow?”

Yu thought about her schedule. “Why, what happened?”

Lin replied, “I just got a call—Yihong got into a fight at school. The teacher wants a parent to come in. I’m in the capital right now.”

A question mark slowly appeared in Yu’s mind. “He… got into a fight?” Had she heard that right?

Lin reassured her, “Don’t worry, you heard right—but he wasn’t the troublemaker. He was protecting his sister. I don’t know the full details yet, but it wasn’t his fault.”

Yu exhaled in relief. “Alright, I’ll go tomorrow.”

---

After hanging up, Yu planned to use the landline when she got home to ask Yihong what had happened.

Liu Sanbao, who was nearby, overheard part of the conversation—something about fighting? What on earth had happened?

The boss’s son had always looked so well-behaved.

He put the thought aside and followed Yu into the Food City complex.

This was currently the largest Wuwei Restaurant branch in the Special Zone—and also the first complete food complex ever built here.

Like its counterpart in the capital, it had three floors. Each floor was divided into storefronts—some leased out, some used by Wuwei itself. Thanks to the prime location and constant crowds, there was never any trouble finding tenants.

You could eat and drink here, then walk a few hundred meters to a supermarket or visit the clothing market next door.

Gu Nanfeng was waiting at the entrance. When he saw Yu, he smiled and went up to greet her before leading her inside.

He had followed the business from the capital to the Special Zone and now oversaw all Wuwei Restaurant operations in the area.

Some locals recognized him and grew curious when they saw how deferentially he greeted Yu.

One man asked an old fellow sipping tea by the door, “Who’s he waiting for? That’s quite the reception.”

The old man glanced over. “That’s his boss.”

The man was surprised. “His boss? Not the boss’s daughter? She looks so young.”

A female boss wasn’t unusual—but this young? He had assumed someone in their forties or fifties at least.

The old man nodded. “Yep, that’s her. I know who she is.”

The passerby whistled. “So young and already built such a huge business. Her family must be rich beyond imagination.”

Next to them, a woman handing out flyers overheard the conversation and leaned closer. “You know the person who just went in?”

The old man chuckled when he saw the flyers in her hands. “You don’t know? She’s the owner of this whole place.”

The woman froze. “Wait—this entire food complex belongs to her?”

The old man nodded again. “Yes, the whole thing.”

The flyer woman blinked in disbelief. “…I’d heard that the Wuwei Restaurant chain and this food complex had the same owner, but all of them are hers?”

The old man nodded once more. “That’s right.”

The flyer woman looked as if she’d just been struck by lightning. Her knees almost buckled, and a bystander quickly caught her. “Whoa, ma’am, are you okay? You look pale—maybe take a rest.”

She forced a smile. “I’m fine. I just got distracted. But could you tell me more? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

The old man was happy to talk. “Sure, I’ll tell you. The owner’s surname is Yu—I don’t know her full name, but I’ve been a customer since the first Wuwei Restaurant opened. They held a raffle that day, and I still have the washbasin I won—it’s sturdy and still in use! Since then, the restaurants have spread everywhere.”

Another passerby joined in. “I’ve followed the chain for a while too. There’s a new branch near my home—some are big, some smaller.”

The old man said, “No matter the size, the food tastes the same.”

The passerby nodded. “Exactly. I’ve eaten at several, and the flavor’s consistent.”

The old man continued proudly, “I’ve got a relative who rents a little shop here in this Food City—just a few square meters—but it costs dozens of yuan per month.”

The passerby gasped. “That expensive? That’s almost my whole monthly salary!”

The old man nodded. “Yeah, pricey. But the business is good, so he doesn’t mind. He says he’s rented in other places before, but the crowds weren’t this big, and the service was worse. Here, if something breaks, they fix it. There’s cleaning staff, security guards, even patrols to deter thieves.”

The passerby asked, “Is all that free?”

The old man shrugged. “Not sure, but even if there’s a fee, it can’t be much. My relative’s satisfied and wants a long-term lease. But they’re not offering that—probably because the rent’s bound to rise.”

The passerby agreed. “If I were the owner, I wouldn’t agree either. With this kind of foot traffic, there’s no shortage of tenants. Signing long-term leases now would just lose money.”

The old man laughed. “Exactly! The owner’s a sharp businesswoman. She only signs two-year contracts at most. Think about it—so many shops, each just a few square meters, paying dozens of yuan a month. All together, the rent must be enough to make her hands cramp from counting.”

Listening to all this, the flyer woman—Zhao Qiaoniang—looked up at the bustling food complex behind her. The building loomed like a giant in her eyes.

She could hardly believe it belonged to one person.

Yet, it was Yu Xiangan’s.

She’d known Yu was doing business in the Special Zone—but to this scale? She’d never imagined it.

Still dazed, Zhao returned to her rented room. It was her day off, and she’d wanted to earn a little extra money by handing out flyers. She hadn’t expected to run into Yu Xiangan—or to learn something that left her so shaken.

She sat on the stool in silence, staring blankly out the window. She didn’t know how long she sat like that until Ding Minxiu came home. She’d also been out doing temporary work. Seeing Zhao sitting motionless, she called out, “Mom, did you make dinner yet?”

Zhao blinked, snapping out of her daze. She’d completely forgotten—but she didn’t want to talk about dinner. Instead, she asked quietly, “If back then…”

Halfway through, she stopped. Looking at the wrinkles on Ding Minxiu’s face, the words died in her throat. She and Yu Xiangan were about the same age—but now, standing side by side, they looked like they belonged to different generations.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

🌸 Notice: Unedited Chapters 🌸

Originally, this novel was dropped because there were only a few readers. But thanks to the heartfelt requests from some of you, I couldn’t just leave it unfinished. 💕

So, I decided to continue uploading the unedited chapters from that point on. This means that since a few chapters back — and until the end of the novel — everything will remain unedited.

There might be small inconsistencies in names, terms, or locations, so please forgive me for that. 🙈

Thank you so much for your understanding and for still being here with me! 😊💖

….

Tian Erzhuang knew that the old commander was trying to help him out by sending his son to lend a hand. The old commander must have known about his situation. Tian owed several of his comrades money; if he relied on farming alone, he could pay them back eventually, but it would take a long time. On top of that, he still had three unmarried sons—more pressure on his shoulders.

Farming guaranteed food, yes, but it all depended on the weather. If heavy rain came during harvest season, the crops would shrink. If drought or flooding struck, there might be no harvest at all.

Tian Erzhuang made up his mind—this time, he would guard the goods properly and not fail his duty. He might lack confidence in other things, but his sturdy frame wasn’t for nothing.

He pulled himself together, packed some clothes, and handed the household chores over to Sun Guihua and their sons. The boys knew he was leaving for paid work, so they were all eager and reassured him that they would take good care of things at home.

Tian got in the truck and left. After that, people in Liucun had plenty to talk about.

“Soldiers really are different.”
“When they serve, they get stipends; when they’re discharged, they get resettlement money—and they have comrades.”
“If those comrades are dependable like Tian Erzhuang’s, then when things get rough, they can lend a hand. Now he’s got himself a job with wages.”

After the visitors left, Sun Guihua opened the things they’d brought. Nothing fancy—just a box of fruit, two bags of candy, and a pound of pastries. Pastries don’t keep long, so she took out a few and locked up the rest. Nobody was allowed to touch them.

Tian Mao tugged on her sleeve. “Mom, do you think Dad will make money out there?”
Sun Guihua snorted through her nose. “How should I know?”
Tian Mao crouched down and went quiet again.

*

On the truck, the two twins Lin Yihong and Lin Yining—who were usually quiet at home—were now chatting endlessly with him.
“Grandpa, you were once the runner-up in a boxing competition? That’s amazing!”

He was of the same generation as Lin Houping, so the twins had to call him grandpa.

Tian Erzhuang smiled bashfully. “Nothing much. There were many who were better than me…”

Lin Chuanbai drove straight to the special zone warehouse. When Tian arrived, he immediately recognized a familiar air—those uniformed men guarding the goods had the same military bearing.

They noticed it too; one came up and slapped Tian’s arm. “Hey, want to spar a little?”

A test of skill between brothers-in-arms.

Watching them exchange moves, Lin Yihong and Lin Yining exclaimed, “Wow! So cool!”

They clapped so much their hands turned red. Lin Yining even considered learning martial arts herself—it looked so impressive—but thinking about the pain and the rough hands, she gave up on the idea.

Lin Chuanbai had exaggerated a little earlier, but not entirely without truth. Beauty, skincare, and cosmetics were doing well in Hong Kong’s market, squeezing out older sellers’ shares. Hong Kong gangs were active—spend some money, and trouble would come your way. They wanted to sabotage shipments so that the business couldn’t deliver, damaging its reputation until the market shrank. Last time, they almost lost an entire batch; if not for timely help, those goods would have ended up in the sea.

Having learned from that close call, Yu Xiangan asked Lin Houping to introduce some reliable men.

That was why Lin Houping had been angry when Tian hid his situation. They had agreed: after discharge, if anyone ran into trouble, they must not keep it secret. Downsizing was beyond anyone’s control, and veterans often struggled to readjust to civilian life. Lin Houping always tried to help when he could.

When he was a factory director, he’d hired many veterans. Later, when his second daughter-in-law started a business and needed staff, he introduced people too. If jobs weren’t a fit, he’d send money or supplies to help them get through tough times. He always helped when he could, never turned his back.

So when Tian’s parents fell seriously ill and he faced hardship, but never said a word to his old commander—it stung. He used to be one of his men, under his wing, and now it felt like they were strangers.

People today might not understand that kind of bond. Take Qin Shenghua for example—he’d been comrades with Lan Wangshan’s son. When that man died, Qin treated Lan Wangshan like half a father, caring for him and his children ever since.

They’d made that vow long ago: on the battlefield, death had no eyes. Whoever died first, the survivors would treat his parents as their own and raise his children as their own.

It wasn’t uncommon.

Tian Erzhuang had received a resettlement payment back then—enough for a normal life—but poverty often followed tragedy. His parents’ illnesses had drained everything, and then his eldest son’s accident left him disabled. That forced him to borrow money from comrades just to get his eldest married.

When Lin Chuanbai learned all this, he decided to help. Before heading out, he discussed it with Yu Xiangan.

Yu said, “Bring him over first. Pay him a normal wage. I have an idea—let’s see how it goes.”

The guards they hired now were officially part of Wuwei Factory’s Security Department. Yu Xiangan was debating whether to spin it off into an independent security company.

It seemed a waste for trained veterans to go back to farming—after all the effort it took to build those skills. Security work had its risks, yes, but it paid far better than farming. And since the market was wide open, there was great potential.

Yu Xiangan felt tempted.

She had money; Lin Houping had connections. Starting up wouldn’t be hard.

At that point, it was just a rough plan with no finalized details—until something happened that sped everything up.

A factory owner in the special zone, who made radios, had his son kidnapped. The boy didn’t survive. The ransom alone cost nearly two hundred thousand in cash, plus a lost life.

It was a premeditated kidnapping.

Normally, families didn’t keep that much cash at home, but by coincidence, he’d just brought it back—and the kidnappers came right after.

The case caused an uproar in the special zone.

There were plenty of investors and wealthy people here, some quiet but making big money. If kidnappings like this kept happening, who would dare to invest? The government couldn’t just sit back; investor confidence was at stake.

But they were too late—the dead couldn’t be brought back.

Yu Xiangan was shaken. She had plenty of money too; what if kidnappers targeted her next? Would she be safe?

When Yu Qingshan heard the news, he stuck close to her and told Lin Chuanbai to watch over the twins carefully.

Yu Xiangan looked into the details: there were four kidnappers, three with criminal records—murderers among them. Two were shot dead, one captured, one escaped.

Yu Xiangan was horrified. What if that fugitive struck again in the special zone?

So she decided to move faster with her plan.

She called Lin Houping: “Dad, do you still know any trustworthy veterans? I want to start a proper security company. For the first batch, I’ll need thirty men.”

Lin Houping was surprised—but thirty? Even three hundred wouldn’t be a problem for him.

Too many soldiers had gone home to farm after being discharged.

Some military units kept only the top elite; the rest were disbanded.

After hearing Yu Xiangan’s idea, Lin Houping also named someone—Chen Jun—to join.

Yu Xiangan made some arrangements at home first. Her driver was fixed—Song Dong from the former security department—and she reassigned Zhao Shanhe to stay with Lin Chuanbai and the children, just in case.

When Tian Erzhuang and his crew delivered goods to Hong Kong, they got caught in a gang fight. Fists flew, and innocent bystanders got dragged in—but they knew the “bystanders” the gang was after were really them.

The enemy hit hard, but their side didn’t hit soft.

On one side were trained veterans; on the other, street thugs. It was clear who would win.

After the incident, Tian Erzhuang kept traveling for other deliveries—six or seven days out of ten on the road. In the middle of the next month, they settled accounts: 120 yuan for the month.

Everyone earned the same.

A coworker told him not to be surprised.

At first, Tian Erzhuang thought he was being given special treatment—120 yuan a month sounded too high—but when he learned everyone was paid that much, he relaxed.

He used to save only one or two hundred yuan in a whole year. Now he could make that in a month. No wonder everyone wanted to leave farming for work.

After working there for about two months, they were transferred to another location—more spacious, with room for drills—and suddenly many new people joined.

There, Tian Erzhuang ran into an old acquaintance: Chen Jun!

Chen Jun was in his thirties, short, with an unremarkable face—one of those people you could pass on the street and forget moments later.

He’d been a reconnaissance soldier. After discharge, he worked in a factory, but most of the time had nothing to do. When Lin Houping asked if he’d like a change, Chen Jun agreed immediately.

He didn’t want his life to stagnate.

Seeing so many new faces didn’t faze Yu Xiangan. She simply arranged dorms and handed the men over to Wang Yi, the former head of the security department.

As for Chen Jun, she wasn’t familiar with him yet. She’d watch and see—if he had real ability, he’d rise naturally.

While discussing business, Yu Xiangan also promoted her new security service.

Riding on the wave of public concern after the kidnapping case, business came quickly.

The line of work was risky, but Wang Yi and the others didn’t mind.

Ordinary stable jobs were safe but paid little. Here, they could use the skills they’d trained for—and earn well. Everyone was grinning.

Once Tian Erzhuang had settled in the special zone, he brought his son Tian Mao over too.

That boy had his heart set on marrying the Li family’s sixth daughter. But Tian, as his father, couldn’t afford the bride price—and even if he could, he refused to pay it.

If the boy wouldn’t give up, then he’d have to earn it himself.

“If he can make that much money, he can marry. If he can’t, he’ll stay single,” Tian said firmly.

When Sun Guihua learned about his new wages, she urged him once, “Why not agree to your second son’s marriage with the Li girl? You earn good money now. Save up, and you’ll have enough. The boy’s so stubborn.”

Tian refused outright. “I might be earning now, but I have to repay my comrades first. And don’t we have other children? Everyone should eat from the bowl they can hold. If he earns enough himself, fine, he can marry. If not, let him stay a bachelor.” He wouldn’t indulge the boy.

He made himself clear: “Soft-hearted mothers spoil sons. I’ve already found him a job—he should work hard. Don’t interfere. If you help him behind my back, don’t blame me for being harsh.”

There were too many expenses—debts to repay, and a new house to build.

The current house was too small. It barely fit one family. Once grandchildren came, there’d be no space.

Tian Mao couldn’t get into the security company—he was an ordinary man—so he found a menial job nearby, earning about thirty yuan a month. If he wanted to save a thousand yuan, it would take two or three years.

Tian Mao thought about it… Two or three years wasn’t that long. They were both young. He wrote a letter to Li Liujin, telling her to wait two or three years, then buried himself in work.

Facing his naïve son, Tian Erzhuang said nothing.

If the boy needed to hit a wall to learn, so be it. Only pain would teach him his limits.

Yu Qingshan, meanwhile, had a huge soft spot for soldiers—he admired them deeply. He often dropped by the security company to hang out for a few days, learning a few fighting moves. But at his age, it was already too late to master them.

Lin Yining, who had never practiced martial arts before, even signed herself up for a Sanda (Chinese kickboxing) class.

They had known the boy who was killed in the kidnapping. He’d been only two years younger than them, a sweet kid with dimples when he smiled.

When tragedy strikes someone you know, it feels completely different—you can feel life slipping away before your eyes.

Even Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiangan started taking courses on self-defense and first aid for emergencies.

Yu Qingshan said, “If someone opened a training school for that, it’d probably do good business.”

Chen Jun happened to overhear and was intrigued. But having just come south, he decided to observe the scene first.

*

After attending the funeral, Lin Yihong and Lin Yining returned to school, both unusually quiet.

Wang Lipan and Fatty couldn’t understand it. Wang asked, “Didn’t you find an unused red envelope and get some pocket money? It’s been a while—don’t tell me you’re still upset about money?”

Lin Yining sighed sadly. “It’s not about that. You didn’t hear?”

Fatty and Wang looked at each other. “Hear what?”

Her voice dropped. “Someone I knew—his family was attacked by kidnappers. He was taken hostage. The kidnappers had already killed before. He didn’t make it out alive… He was two years younger than me. We’d eaten together before. I met his father later—his hair’s gone white now. It used to be all black.” Her eyes stung with tears.

Wang frowned. “Didn’t they catch them?”

Lin Yining gave a bitter smile. “Not all. My mom said one escaped. No one knows where he went—maybe Hong Kong.”

Wang grew worried. “Then you’d better be careful. Those people were after money. Your family’s pretty well-off.”

She’d never said exactly how wealthy her family was, but you could tell from her clothes and the way she talked.

Lin Yining sighed. “My mom hired us a bodyguard.”

Fatty’s eyes widened. “A bodyguard? Like in the movies? That’s wild!”

Lin Yining frowned. “My mom’s just scared something might happen. It’s fine at school, but outside we can’t go anywhere alone. He picks us up. If he, or my parents, can’t come, we’re not allowed to leave.”

“I even signed up for a Sanda class. Want to join me?”

Fatty pinched the soft fat on his arm and looked at Wang Lipan. Wang shook his head, then changed his mind and nodded. “I’ve already been taking classes.”

Fatty groaned. “So you’re both learning? I can’t be the only one left behind. Fine—I’ll join too. Is it expensive?”

Fatty thought about it—if the class was expensive, he wouldn’t be able to afford it even if he wanted to join.

Lin Yining said, “I don’t know how much it costs either. I’ll ask my dad when I get home.”

Zhuo Mingwei also asked Lin Yihong about it. When Yihong told him what had happened, his expression grew serious. “I looked into the kidnapping in detail. If that had happened to my family, I don’t think I could have escaped either. Those four men were trained fighters. What I’ve learned could handle regular people, but not men like that. If I were caught in a situation like that, how would I save myself? I can’t think of a way.”

As for trying to get the ransom money back—that thought never even crossed his mind. Life was the most important thing. Money could be earned again, but once life was gone, it was over.

Their parents had also warned them repeatedly: if something like that ever happened, do not resist unless you were certain you could get away. Some people simply had no conscience.

Adults had a natural advantage over children—kids were still developing and didn’t have the strength to fight back.

Zhuo Mingwei gave a wry smile. “So that’s what this is about. I know. My parents are scared to death too. Now when I come to school, one of them insists on picking me up personally. If they can’t, I’m not allowed to go home alone. They don’t have much money left either—they put most of it in the bank and then signed me up for three different classes: taekwondo, sanda, and martial arts. If I hadn’t stopped them in time, I’d have been split into three pieces.”

He rolled up his sleeve to show Yihong the bruises from training.

“I never did this stuff before. It really hurts.”

Yihong, who had experience, patted his shoulder comfortingly. “It’s fine. You’ll get used to the pain.”

Was that supposed to be comforting? Zhuo Mingwei felt suffocated.

The dismissal bell rang. Lin Yihong and Lin Yining packed up their things and walked to the school gate. They used to walk home by themselves, but ever since the kidnapping case, that wasn’t allowed anymore. Now, Uncle Zhao always came to pick them up and escorted them home.

If they had extracurricular classes, he would take them there first, then bring them home afterward.

Today there were no classes, so they went straight home.

Even before they reached the door, they smelled the rich aroma of food.

That smell…

Both of them sped up instinctively. When they opened the door, they saw their mother’s familiar smile. She was wearing an apron, holding a dish, and setting it on the table. “You’re home,” she said warmly.

Lin Yining ran over and hugged her arm. “Mom! You’re here! I thought you were busy with the hotel business?”

Yu Xiangan smiled. “It’s finished for now. I came to spend some time with you two.”

Lin Chuanbai had told her that the children were still down and hadn’t fully recovered from the kidnapping incident. So, once she wrapped up her work, she came to be with them.

After arriving, she went to the market, bought ingredients, and cooked a whole table of delicious food.

Zhao Shanhe glanced at his colleague Song Dong and greeted him with a smile. “When did you get here?”

Song Dong—Yu Xiangan’s driver—replied, “At noon.”

He’d gone with her to the market and then sat there, tormented by the mouthwatering smells coming from the kitchen.

When Yihong and Yining saw their favorite dishes, their eyes lit up. “Mom, this is amazing!”

Yu Xiangan said, “You two can sit and watch TV for a bit. I’ve got two more dishes to finish.”

Yining shook her head. “I’ll help you, Mom!”

Yihong said, “Me too.”

Yu Xiangan shook her head this time. “If you really want to help, set the table. Rinse the bowls and chopsticks with hot water.”

When Lin Chuanbai got home, the table was already full of dishes: sizzling beef tendon on an iron plate, salt and pepper spare ribs, stir-fried beef with green peppers, sweet-and-sour fish, and pork rib soup with tea tree mushrooms.

There were also desserts—mung bean paste, water chestnut cake, and lotus seed soup.

An entire feast—it was hard to decide where to start.

Yining’s eyes sparkled like stars. “Mom, you made so much! We can’t finish it all!”

There were only six of them, counting the two uncles—it was too much food.

Yu Xiangan said, “The mung bean paste, chestnut cake, and lotus seed soup are desserts. Whatever’s left, we’ll put in the fridge.”

Song Dong and Zhao Shanhe sat down with them to enjoy the meal.

Yining sighed happily. “I’m so lucky. Mom, you’ve been so busy—I haven’t had your cooking in ages.”

Yu Xiangan stroked her hair. “Then let me make it up to you now, okay?”

Yining squinted her eyes in delight. “Okay! But don’t go running off to work again!”

Yu Xiangan laughed. “Deal. I bought more ingredients—after dinner, do you two want to help me make nougat candy?”

Nougat candy! The twins looked at each other and shouted together, “Yes!” They’d never made it before.

After a satisfying meal, Lin Chuanbai sat on the sofa, scribbling in a notebook, while Zhao Shanhe and Song Dong watched the news.

Yu Xiangan brought the twins into the kitchen to make nougat candy.

They used marshmallows, peanuts, milk powder, dried cranberries, almonds, and butter.

Since they had an oven, everyone took a role—one roasted the peanuts, another melted the butter, then added marshmallows and milk powder, stirring it all together. When it was smooth, they mixed in the peanuts, flattened the mixture in a tray, let it cool, and cut it into pieces.

The process wasn’t hard, but the taste depended on skill.

Cutting the pieces was Yihong’s job, while Yining helped her mom bake egg tarts and bread. Making extras wasn’t a problem—they’d serve as breakfast or school snacks the next day.

For Yu Xiangan, cooking was a kind of therapy. Watching ingredients transform into fragrant food gave her a deep sense of satisfaction—and it made others happy too.

She stayed for a week. Every evening, she and the twins cooked something new.

Day 1: nougat, egg tarts, and bread.
Day 2: double-skin milk pudding, sandwiches, and fruit cheesecake.
Day 3: cookies and milk biscuits.
Day 4: thousand-layer cake and chestnut cake.
…

After a few days of this, the twins complained that they were going to get little bellies.

When Fatty heard their “complaint,” he pinched the fat on his stomach and laughed helplessly.

The bit of weight he’d lost had come right back.

With delicious food morning and afternoon, his weight was hopeless. Before every meal, he’d tell himself, Don’t eat, don’t eat. But when the food appeared in front of him—who could resist?

Every time it ended the same way: Forget it, I’ll start dieting tomorrow.

And then the next day: Tomorrow again.

At this rate, when would he ever lose his baby fat?

🌱🌿 🫧🍃