Qin Yi had heard plenty about Wen Ying, but meeting her, he only saw her as a cute little sister.
He didn’t catch that his parents weren’t too impressed with Xu Mei and had already set Wen Ying as the benchmark for his future partner.
Xu Mei, flustered in front of Qin’s family, lost all her usual schoolyard confidence. After dinner, she was left overthinking.
Qin Yi brought his classmates to Rongcheng for fun, and the Qin family naturally played gracious hosts, arranging top-notch food, drinks, and lodging for them. They told Qin Yi not to neglect his friends, then stepped back, leaving the space to the young crowd.
Xu Mei was down, but the others were buzzing with excitement. Qin Yi asked if they were tired—if not, the night’s snack would be at Qin Jiao and Wen Ying’s stall.
His classmates, of course, agreed to give Qin Yi face.
Wen Ying grinned, “Then we’ll head back to prep.”
After Wen Ying’s trio left, a classmate asked Qin Yi, “Your family’s so well-off—don’t you mind your sister running a stall? It’s tough work!”
Qin Yi explained their life in Rongcheng wasn’t anything special, just a bit better than average. As for his sister’s stall, it was her friend’s influence.
“I told you guys, right? My sister’s new friend this year, Wen Ying—my parents really like her.”
They’d noticed at dinner—Qin Yi’s parents doted on Wen Ying. His mom served Qin Jiao food but didn’t forget Wen Ying, showing more care than she did for Qin Yi himself.
The question was, they couldn’t see why the Qins valued Wen Ying so much. She seemed like an ordinary girl.
Qin Yi thought otherwise. Wen Ying wasn’t ordinary.
One girl winning over his parents and sister could be a fluke, but the Wang family too? That’s no coincidence.
Wang Shuang used to scoff at Wen Ying—now look, running around for her in no time. That spoke to Wen Ying’s ability!
Xu Mei listened as Qin Yi praised Qin Jiao and Wen Ying, her heart souring.
A female classmate whispered, “Xu Mei, you okay?”
Qin Yi’s parents seemed reasonable, his sister polite—Xu Mei had hit the jackpot dating him. What was there to mope about?
Xu Mei shook her head, “Not unhappy, just feeling off since the flight.”
The classmate wanted to tell Qin Yi, but Xu Mei, seeing her boyfriend’s energy, didn’t want to dampen things and stopped her.
Meanwhile, Wang Shuang was sour too.
She loved the spotlight—Xie Qian stood out for looks and vibe, while Wang Shuang thrived on showing off.
But today, since the airport, she’d been quiet, barely speaking at dinner.
Qin Jiao found it odd, “Wang Shuang, you feeling sick? Maybe skip the stall tonight and rest.”
Wang Shuang brushed it off, but Wen Ying could tell she was off.
Teen moods were a mystery.
Meeting Li Mengjiao and Xie Qian, Wen Ying shifted gears to the “Food Festival” plan.
Once business came up, Wang Shuang snapped out of her funk.
Wen Ying urged her crew to brainstorm. They tossed out ideas, and she jotted them down seriously, no matter how raw.
“Once I organize these, Xie Qian can take them to Director Lü. The sooner we hold the festival, the better.”
Her words fired up Qin Jiao, Wang Shuang, and Li Mengjiao—even Xie Qian showed interest.
Xie Qian wasn’t curious about their suggestions but Wen Ying’s polished “proposal.” That’s where her real thoughts would shine. She might flop at studies, but elsewhere, she surprised.
Still, studies… Xie Qian eyed her. With that clever face, excelling at everything but school—why?
With over a month until school started, he doubted Wen Ying could pass the provincial key high school entrance exam at her current level.
Her middle school exam score was 578, but her tutoring performance didn’t match. To dig deeper, Xie Qian had Lin Lin grab this year’s Rongcheng middle school exam papers. Doing them himself, he found they weren’t much easier than Beijing’s.
That dulled his interest in the festival. But then, if Wen Ying poured all her energy into it, leaving less for studying, failing the entrance exam under so many eyes would make even regular admission tough—forget the experimental class.
So, he had to jump into the festival prep.
“Sort tonight’s discussion soon. I’ll handle the rest. Since the stall opened, everyone’s supported me—now it’s my turn,” Xie Qian said.
Wang Shuang’s hands bore shrimp-pinched scratches; Xie Qian hadn’t washed a single one.
That was their care for him.
Li Mengjiao teased that Xie Qian just sitting there drew aunties and sisters to the stall—his big contribution. But no, his real strength was tackling tough tasks like this, concise and convincing.
That night, as Wen Ying’s crew wrapped up, Qin Yi brought his classmates to support.
In Rongcheng, Wen Ying’s shrimp were unique, but elsewhere, it was old news. A classmate from Jinling said shrimp joints had been everywhere there for years—not rare.
Since the ‘90s, he’d seen shrimp on dining tables—spicy or thirteen-spice flavors mostly.
Even earlier, in the ‘80s, his parents bought shrimp to braise at home in summer.
This guy was a shrimp-eating pro.
Qin Yi brought him expecting mild interest—more curiosity about middle schoolers starting a business. But when Wen Ying served her braised shrimp, the pro raved, “So unique!”
“Better than what they sell in Shanghai.”
Beijing and Shanghai had shrimp spots now. He didn’t know Beijing’s, but Shanghai’s fell short of Jinling’s finesse—bland shrimp needing extra vinegar or chili was a sin.
What’s the point?
Half the joy of shrimp is sucking the broth!
Qin Yi, skeptical, tried some, “Really better than Shanghai?”
“Absolutely!”
Qin Yi munched thoughtfully, “Your shrimp’s got approval. Just a stall’s a shame.”
Wen Ying smiled, “Brother Qin Yi, who says we’re stuck at a stall? If the festival works, we’ll push shrimp across Rongcheng, earn enough to open a shop. We’ll study during the week, let staff run it, and just collect yearly dividends.”
This idea had sharpened lately. She’d planned to pitch it post-festival, but Qin Yi’s question fit the moment.
Li Mengjiao gaped.
From stall to shop?
She, Wang Shuang, Qin Jiao, and Xie Qian just waiting for dividends?
Wen Ying looked dead serious—no joke.
Li Mengjiao wouldn’t undermine her friend in public and firmly told Qin Yi she backed Wen Ying’s call.
“Brother Qin Yi, think this taste could support a shop?”
Qin Yi chuckled, “A shop’s not a stall. Stalls need little cash and flex. Shops mean rent, decor, utilities, staff—not just good food. Business is a deep game. Figure it out yourselves!”
He didn’t crush their spirits or blindly cheer them on.
Wen Ying knew shops were tougher than stalls.
It wasn’t the old days when quality alone won. Flavor needed management.
But 2004’s market felt riper than 2019’s. With the festival pushing shrimp, scaling from stall to shop wasn’t a pipe dream—it could work.
Talking shops, Wen Ying had tons to ask Qin Yi. He’d done business and made money. Her head was full of hearsay theory, no practice. Asking Boss Qin or Wang was overkill; Deng Shangwei might kill her momentum. Qin Yi was perfect.
They chatted for ages. Xu Mei, clueless about business, couldn’t join in. Her mild gloom turned noticeable.
“Qin Yi, Xu Mei seems off. Maybe we should head back?” a female classmate cut in.
Ignoring your girlfriend to chat with a kid—what’s that about?
She didn’t grasp business either, unsure if Wen Ying was impressive, but the long talk spelled trouble for Xu Mei.
Today’s teens were bolder than their generation. Wen Ying seemed tame, but who knew her thoughts?
That odd vibe from lunch with Qin’s family hit Wen Ying again.
Something felt off, hard to pin down.
Heading home after closing, Xie Qian was quiet too. At drop-off, he suddenly asked Lin Lin, “Sis, can you get Wen Ying some practice tests?”
Lin Lin, casual, asked what kind.
Wen Ying blinked, lost.
Xie Qian, calm, “Ones matching the provincial key entrance exam level.”
Entrance exam!
Food festival, shrimp shop, CEO dreams—all shattered by those words.
She’d been floating lately, nearly forgetting that exam!
