What’s the deal with the Shu family?
Greedy, petty, overambitious, arrogant— Cai Youlun could list a ton of flaws about the Shu trio. If Zhao Dong hadn’t tasked him with “helping” them, Cai Youlun wouldn’t bother dealing with such people.
Hearing Zhao Dong press, Cai Youlun didn’t hide his disdain, but Zhao Dong was delighted.
If the Shu family were upright, kind, and driven, Zhao Dong wouldn’t waste money propping them up!
He zeroed in on their character flaws, perfect for his plan, especially since he couldn’t directly target Wen Ying’s parents. The Shu family was his ideal pawn— spineless, quick to turn on kin once they “made it,” and no one would trace it back to him.
Whatever the trio did to Wen Ying wouldn’t raise eyebrows!
Zhao Dong soothed Cai Youlun, “Nurture that Shu girl’s pride carefully. Build her up, let her float, then snap her back to reality. Hint at what we want, and she’ll do anything.”
Cai Youlun knew the Shu family’s type, bad stock rarely yields good fruit. Shu Lu was vain, but young enough to mold with effort.
But Zhao Dong wasn’t in it for charity, every cent spent on the Shus was an investment he’d claw back with interest.
Cai Youlun mused briefly, but he and Zhao Dong were cut from the same cloth. Zhao Dong wanted ties with the Xie family, Cai Youlun wanted Zhao Dong’s coattails, so he worked hard for him.
Conscience? Worthless.
Besides, the Shus’ greed was their own doing. Shu Guobing, with zero skills, bragged about conquering Chengdu’s seafood market, starting with a million, spending others’ money without a care. Without Cai Youlun propping him up, that million would vanish fast!
Zhao Dong felt great after the call.
With Xie Qian likely gone from Chengdu for a while, targeting Wen Ying seemed unnecessary, their friendship too new for her to leave a deep mark on him.
But Wen Ying had bruised Zhao Dong’s ego!
Since returning to China, the Zhao family’s business, despite funds, hadn’t taken off as hoped, hitting snags while adjusting to the local scene.
Struggling in business, then getting dissed by some ordinary girl? Zhao Dong’s pent-up frustration zeroed in on Wen Ying.
Unsure if Xie Qian would return for the summer, Zhao Dong liked to plan ahead. With Xie Qian back in Beijing, he started arranging Zhao Qian’s transfer.
Not knowing Xie Qian’s school didn’t matter, Zhao Dong would contact Beijing’s top high schools, ready to slot Zhao Qian in once he had specifics.
He called Zhao Qian over, instructing, “In Beijing, Xie Qian’ll probably give you the cold shoulder at first. Stay calm, keep your distance but stay close. Even if he tells you to scram, don’t lose it. Stick around, you win. Let him get used to you, who can compete then?”
Zhao Dong figured Xie Qian’s aloof nature meant few peers got close.
Zhao Qian would face rivals, but secure the source, and they’d be irrelevant.
Zhao Qian agreed without hesitation.
The siblings were alike, the tougher the challenge, the fiercer their drive.
Zhao Qian itched to taunt Wen Ying: Being your friend was a favor, you were so proud, now try chasing him to Beijing!
…
Wen Ying’s mindset was worlds apart from the Zhao siblings.
They thought Xie Qian’s return to Beijing would leave Wen Ying crushed, losing her shot at a big connection, moping for who-knows-how-long.
But for Wen Ying, life went on, Xie Qian or no Xie Qian.
She never planned to leech off him, so where’s the loss?
Her biggest hope for Xie Qian was a long, healthy life. To make that happen, she’d be his friend and push herself to shine.
Even with over a week of silence from him, Wen Ying stayed steady.
She ran her business, kept tutoring, even started drafting a second novel.
On the eighth day since Xie Qian left, Director Lü found her, “There’s a shop on Night Market Street up for transfer, you interested?”
Wen Ying perked up, tagging Wang Shuang to check it out.
It wasn’t just a storefront, it was a small courtyard with a wide open space, room for a dozen tables outside. Inside, a two-story building, ground floor with a hall and kitchen, upper floor the former owner’s living quarters.
The hall was smaller, fitting maybe ten tables.
The previous owner ran a eatery, but the spot, tucked at the street’s end, got so-so traffic. The food festival brought a boost, but business dipped after, so they wanted to transfer it and try something else.
Wen Ying and Wang Shuang scoped it out. The location, while quieter than the street’s heart, had parking potential.
Elsewhere on the street, tables and chairs crowded both sides, leaving cars nowhere to go.
But this courtyard claimed the street’s tail. Plan it right, and the road outside could hold ten parking spots, that’s ten tables of customers, guaranteed!
In 2004, parking woes weren’t yet a big deal, roadside chaos was common, and paying for spots got you laughed at for wasting cash.
But give it a few years, not even waiting for 2019, city rules would tighten, traffic and appearance strictly managed. Diners would pick spots based on parking first.
Wen Ying saw the courtyard’s value instantly, Wang Shuang, the second shareholder, circled it twice and nodded.
“Director Lü, what’s the rent like?” Wen Ying asked.
Lü wasn’t new to dealing with her, knowing she had a mind of her own, “Not bad, 50,000 a year. The old boss’s lease with the landlord has two years left, rent rises 10% annually, can you handle that?”
50,000 wasn’t steep, Lü wasn’t kidding.
Post-food festival, the street’s foot traffic spiked, landlords itching to jack up prices. This place was locked by the prior lease, so the landlord could only nudge it up 10% yearly.
Taking over from the boss meant no rent gouging, but there was a catch, transfers like this came with a fee.
Sure enough, Lü confirmed, rent was 50,000, but the transfer fee was another 50,000, including kitchen gear, stoves, pots, pans, and all the old dining tables and chairs.
“Transfer fee’s too high,” Wen Ying said. “We can’t use this decor or furniture, if we take it, we’d rip out the floor tiles and start over.”
Oil-slicked tiles, good for what?
Without a sharp first store, how could “Shrimp King” go chain?
Lü was about to respond when two people walked in, one the former boss, the other Big Liu, the barbecue shop owner. The old boss looked awkward, “Director Lü, showing the place?”
Lü frowned. What’s Old Hou up to, lining up his own tenant?
