Under the ambient lights of the studio, Wen Ying’s eyes sparkled with a weight and depth Xie Qian couldn’t decipher, leaving him at a loss for how to respond.
What Wen Ying expressed wasn’t some flippant, casual “I like you.” She genuinely wished for him to live a long life… but why?
If it were a confession, Xie Qian had plenty of experience turning those down.
Realising she’d startled him, Wen Ying quickly laughed it off, “Just kidding! I’ve got lots of dreams—making tons of money so I’ve got the confidence to do anything, excelling in school, being good friends with you… Oh, and one more, a secret one. I’ll tell you quietly.”
She leaned closer, “I want to be a writer. I submitted to a magazine, got rejected, but the editor said I’ve got talent. When I get published and earn my first fee, I’ll treat you to dinner, okay?”
A writer.
Xie Qian was surprised.
He’d figured Wen Ying aimed to be a big-shot boss or something else, not a writer.
He didn’t mock her, though. He saw she wasn’t joking—a girl knowing what she wanted at sixteen deserved respect, not ridicule.
“Alright, I’ll wait for your fee-funded dinner,” he said.
With that promise, Wen Ying felt a surge of motivation to revise her drafts.
—She had to treat Xie Qian with that money, after all!
Soon, Li Mengjiao took the stage, singing an English song with choreography. After a few minutes of singing and dancing, her breathing was a bit unsteady.
Dressed in a sequined tank top, her cute vibe mixed with a hint of sass as she danced. The performance surprised her friends and visibly impressed the judges.
Going all out for the 50-to-20 round—who’d advance if not Li Mengjiao?
The slight breathiness was forgiven by the judges.
All three agreed she was young with room to grow, a contestant they wanted to nurture.
Professor Fang spoke to her gently, which Wen Ying chalked up to Li Mengjiao’s petite, adorable look.
That face was too deceptive—made you want to shield her.
But once you knew her, you’d see she was a goofy, big-hearted bundle of nerves beneath the cute exterior.
Li-the-Goof, no, Li Mengjiao the Cutie, advanced smoothly.
When Xu Mei stepped up, she sang “Your Eyes.”
It was her and Qin Yi’s song, and now, singing it again, her gaze dripped with affection.
She kept glancing at the audience. Outsiders might not get it, but Wen Ying and the crew did.
“So sweet,” Wen Ying muttered.
Young love had that fire.
It might not last, but in the moment, with mutual affection, those memories etched themselves into youth, unforgettable.
Wen Ying hadn’t dated Xie Qian in her past life, but his presence had still threaded through her bleak teenage years—a feeling more intoxicating than romance. Like a fan chasing a star, unreachable perfection made him flawless in her eyes.
She didn’t know what kind of girl suited Xie Qian.
But as long as he lived well, he’d find his love someday.
“Xie Qian, you really have to live to a hundred!” Wen Ying suddenly turned, reiterating her wish.
Xie Qian froze briefly, then nodded slowly, “Okay.”
Wen Ying whipped her head back to the stage.
He’d agreed.
The steel-armoured, unflappable Lawyer Wen’s tear threshold plummeted. If she didn’t focus on the stage, she might cry.
…No crying—she’d freak Xie Qian out.
Xu Mei advanced too.
The station had done its homework—keeping a pretty, smart university girl like Xu Mei was a no-brainer. A lack of foresight otherwise.
Plus, she sang damn well!
By the time the recording wrapped, everyone was wiped out.
Wen Ying’s face glistened with sweat, “Next round’s 20-to-10. Are we coming again?”
“Physics or chemistry—pick one, 80 points,” Xie Qian said.
Both were out of 100. Scoring 80 was like getting 120 in math.
Wen Ying huffed, “Physics it is!”
A flicker of a smile crossed Xie Qian’s face.
80 in physics, then there’s chemistry.
Like this competition—20-to-10, then divisionals, followed by a national showdown of the best. One win led to the next, just like studying.
Li Mengjiao’s mom offered to treat everyone to dinner as thanks for their support.
Li Mengjiao ran over, sweaty, “I haven’t helped out in days. Why’d you include me in the donation?”
“You’re a shareholder,” someone said.
“The competition’s your priority,” another added.
Tang Yifeng teased sourly, “Oh, quit complaining. Geng Xiao and I still haven’t gotten shares.”
Li Mengjiao pondered, “Then get your money ready—I’ll transfer my ‘Shrimp King’ shares to you!”
Tang Yifeng and Geng Xiao thought she was joking, then realised she meant it.
With “Shrimp King” booming, why would she ditch her stake?
Wang Shuang had hinted Wen Ying was eyeing a brick-and-mortar transition, scouting night market spots. Profits, minus donations, were being saved for that.
Li Mengjiao had it figured out, “I made the top 20 today, and this competition’s far from over. I won’t have time to pitch in. ‘Shrimp King’ earns more daily than my initial investment now. I can’t contribute, so I don’t feel right taking money for nothing. If you two want in, buy my shares.”
She’d joined Wen Ying’s stall to keep up with her friends.
Now, finding her true passion and trusting their support, she could let go of “Shrimp King.”
Wen Ying respected her choice.
They’d stay friends even without the business ties.
Li Mengjiao wanted to offload her 15% stake to Tang Yifeng and Geng Xiao. Splitting it evenly was tricky, so Qin Yi stepped in, “Give me 5%, Dreamy. The other 10%, they can split. I won’t shortchange you—5% for 50,000 yuan. Then let’s sit down and talk about taking ‘Shrimp King’ to Modu!”
5% for 50,000 yuan.
Did that mean their little stall was worth a million?
Tang Yifeng begged, “Brother Yi, you’re loaded—don’t inflate the price!”
He and Geng Xiao planned to use pocket money for Li Mengjiao’s shares. Qin Yi’s 50,000 bid meant they’d each need that much to join.
Li Mengjiao shook her head, “Brother Qin Yi, that’s too much. I’m not trying to profit off ‘Shrimp King.’”
Qin Yi turned serious, “Think I’m joking? I say 5% is worth 50,000, and its real value’s higher. This isn’t charity—it’s business.”
