One son, transfer more shares. These keywords pierced Xie Jinghu’s ears, and he desperately wished to vomit up the New Year’s Eve dinner he had just eaten.
As expected, no banquet is ever without its ulterior motive!
Whenever shares were involved, no matter the percentage, it was a painful loss for Xie Jinghu.
Even gifting a villa to the wretched son would be a one-off transaction; the harm from losing shares was enduring!
Zou Weijun was quite surprised. Old Madam Xie’s words were abrupt, clearly not discussed with Zou Weijun beforehand.
Xie Jinghu shot Zou Weijun a questioning look with his eyes, assuming it was her idea.
Zou Weijun met his gaze calmly: Mum, Xie Qian appreciates your good intentions, but asking for shares on his behalf like this, others would not give them to him sincerely. A forced melon is not sweet.
This tactic of retreating to advance had been taught to Zou Weijun by Madam Peng over afternoon tea. Madam Peng said it was highly effective, and Zou Weijun was half-believing, half-doubting.
Using it might not work, but if it did not, so be it; there would be no loss either way.
Between face and substance, Madam Peng always chose substance.
Zou Weijun was simply too concerned with face.
What face was needed against vile people? Securing substance first provided the leverage to reclaim lost face.
Zou Weijun’s words drew a heavy snort from Old Madam Xie: Third son, tell me yourself, is this a forced melon?
The entire Xie family stared at Xie Jinghu in unison, saying nothing.
From the eldest, Old Madam Xie, to Xie Jinghu’s youngest niece, everyone awaited his answer.
Was it a forced melon?
Xie Jinghu thought it was.
Clearly, the rest of the Xie family saw it differently.
Xie Yuping’s eyes were sharp as an eagle’s, locking firmly on his prey, oh no, on his own younger brother: Eighteen is no ordinary little birthday. Legally speaking, eighteen means adulthood…
Xie Jinghu’s head throbbed like a bucket. He hurriedly interrupted Xie Yuping: Big Brother is right. How about this: on Xie Qian’s birthday, I will give him 1 per cent of Jin Hu shares.
That 1 per cent felt like a huge chunk gouged from Xie Jinghu’s heart, the pain making it hard to breathe.
Yet he had to volunteer it.
If he let Xie Yuping speak, it might not stop at 1 per cent!
Xie Qian’s birthday was still some days away, and Xie Jinghu would drag it out for as long as possible. In any case, he had no intention of transferring shares willingly and promptly.
Thus, Xie Qian’s holdings would soon increase by another 1 per cent, totalling 6 per cent!
Even aloof Xie Qian showed a smile on his face: Thank you, Dad.
Two similar faces, utterly different expressions, made for a stark contrast when viewed together.
This meal left everyone in the Xie family in high spirits, save for Xie Jinghu himself, whose foul mood stemmed from the loss of shares!
Just before the midnight chimes of the New Year, Xie Qian sent a text to Wen Ying.
No sooner had the Happy New Year message been sent than fireworks soared into the courtyard sky, blooming like a thousand trees of pear blossoms.
Far away in Rong City, thousands of miles distant, Wen Ying sat with her family. Her phone buzzed incessantly with New Year greetings, and upon seeing Xie Qian’s message, she could not help but smile.
…
On the first day of the Lunar New Year, Deng Juan returned to Rong City.
Qin Jiao kept her word and issued Deng Juan the withheld year-end bonus.
Deng Juan had worked as a nanny for five years, scrimping just 100 yuan a month, yet she had managed to save over two thousand in pocket money.
After switching to Shrimp King, her salary had risen considerably, and once in the capital as Qin Jiao’s right-hand woman, it had doubled again. With the bonus added, Deng Juan surprisingly had over 60,000 in savings.
Fortunately, the Deng family had not taken this money from her.
Over 60,000 could build a house back in the village.
But why would Deng Juan take the money home to build a house, only for the finished one to likely lack even a single private room for her!
Yang Xi was far more capable.
Though Yang Xi had started work later than Deng Juan, she had taken no detours. From the outset, she had been a Shrimp King store manager, later rising to manager. The three elders at home never demanded she hand over her wages. Yang Xi’s biggest expense was a weekly fixed purchase of daily necessities.
Her year-end bonus was higher too.
Despite Yang Xi spending more freely than Deng Juan on a day-to-day basis, when she tallied her savings now, she had actually set aside more, a full 90,000-plus!
Not only did the three Yang elders not use Yang Xi’s money, but upon learning she wanted to buy a flat, Great-grandfather Yang Hongan pulled out a passbook and insisted on topping her up to 110,000.
Old Yang Hongan had raised Yang Xi by scavenging, and had saved over 20,000 through the same means. This sum was truly his coffin money.
Yang Xi naturally refused to take it, but Yang Hongan was adamant.
This money was meant for Yang Xi sooner or later anyway, and being able to help her buy a flat filled Yang Hongan with joy.
An elder who planned everything for the child’s sake most feared becoming a burden.
Yang Xi was a grown young woman now, and in a few more years, she would surely find a partner. No matter how open-minded the lad, none would accept living with three elderly folk. If Yang Xi had her own flat, finding a match would be far easier!
Thinking of this, Yang Hongan felt elation from the depths of his heart and constantly urged Yang Xi to buy.
The group gathered together.
Yang Xi and Deng Juan both gazed at Wen Ying expectantly.
Wen Ying stroked her chin: Sister Xi has 110,000, Sister Deng Juan over 60,000… What are your requirements for the flat?
In 2007, Rong City’s lift flats already averaged over 5,000 per square metre. Even at a 30 per cent down payment, Yang Xi had few decent options for a lift flat: either sacrifice space or location.
Wen Ying had no familiar estate agents in Rong City, so she had to analyse it for them herself.
Boss Wang kindly donated a city map to aid Wen Ying, the property consultant, in her deliberations.
Heads clustered together: Wen Ying studied it, and so did the others.
Wang Shuang rubbed her eyes after staring for ages, while Qin Jiao gave up outright: With this budget, no good flats are on offer. I can lend them some money in the company’s name, up to 50,000.
Shrimp King was expanding rapidly, leaving scant cash on the books, or the Qin siblings would have already distributed dividends to shareholders.
No dividends yet, and still offering 100,000 in loans to Yang Xi and Deng Juan, showed true regard for the pair!
Yang Xi did a quick mental sum: I would have 160,000 for the down payment. Suppose the price is 5,500 per square metre, I could mortgage a… um, let me calculate.
A lift new-build under 100 square metres.
Wen Ying calculated faster: If we pull some strings for a discount, with the same down payment, you could add a dozen or so square metres to the size.
Wang Shuang was rather unhelpful, thumping her chest in assurance: For discounts, leave it to my dad. He has loads of friends!
Yang Xi was uncharacteristically bashful.
That would not do. Boss Wang, favours must be repaid. A 90-something square metre one is fine. I need three bedrooms anyway.
One for great-grandfather and grandma, one for second-grandfather, one for me. Perfect!
Yang Xi yearned to see the three elders in a lift new-build. Wen Ying pondered and offered another option: Would you consider an older flat without stairs? Some can be spruced up with a bit of money, offering a living experience no worse than a lift new-build, easier for your elders to get about, and with more lived-in charm.
These were Wen Ying’s surface reasons to persuade Yang Xi. Deeper down, the real motive was that older flats could be subject to demolition!
