Wen Ying wanted to get to the bottom of Wang Shuang’s question.
“…Let’s not worry about him for now. We’ll stick to our own pace. Even without him, we’d face other competitors eventually.”
If “King Prawn” was to grow big and strong, the further it went, the tougher the rivals would be.
If she was scared of even Shu Guobing, Wen Ying figured her second life wouldn’t amount to much.
Whether Shu Guobing was just here to annoy her or had someone backing him, Wen Ying didn’t care.
Worst case, she’d stand on tiptoes and arm-wrestle his backer.
If Shu Guobing competed fairly with “King Prawn,” she wouldn’t be afraid at all.
If he played dirty tricks… bring it on. Wen Ying wasn’t some stubborn fool who’d ignore the resources at hand, fighting Shu Guobing or his backer with just her own wits.
Come on—Shu Guobing was picking on a “minor”!
“King Prawn” wasn’t just her venture. Qin Jiao, Wang Shuang, Tang Yifeng, and Geng Xiao were shareholders too.
With Wen Ying so calm, her partners had little to stress about.
So what if someone snatched a storefront? The night market had others!
“King Prawn” was still running a temporary stall while hunting for a proper shop. As long as they sold over 300 jin of braised prawns a day, Wen Ying wasn’t worried.
If push came to shove, they’d keep the stall going until autumn ended.
In winter, prawns weren’t as plump, and customers dwindled, so business would naturally dip.
In peak season, focus on selling prawns to build capital.
In the off-season, find a shop, renovate, and wait for next year’s night market boom.
Wen Ying dreamed of a chain that thrived year-round, but that’d take her and her partners’ combined efforts. The road was walked step by step—no one got fat in one bite!
…
With the storefront snatched, Wen Ying started the search anew.
Wang Shuang, eyeing Shu Guobing warily, didn’t trust him. He went to Director Lü and dropped a few words.
Wang Shuang was genuinely worried that once Shu Guobing got cozy in the night market, he’d notice Director Lü’s fondness for Wen Ying and pull the “family elder” card to take advantage, leeching off Wen Ying’s goodwill.
The guy was shady, and it’d cost Wen Ying her standing with Lü.
When Director Lü heard “King Prawn’s” chosen shop was taken by Wen Ying’s uncle, he muttered, “Every family has its troubles.” But he thought how lucky it was that Wen Ying’s partners were students—straightforward, sincere, and trusting.
If they were adults, they’d grumble, even if silently: *You say you don’t get along with your uncle, but what if you saw the prawn business booming and got your relative to grab a piece?*
Wang Shuang laid the groundwork with Lü, then went home to set another.
He played a little trick with his dad, not mentioning Shu Guobing directly but starting with tutoring.
“Dad, can you get me some teachers?”
Lately, Boss Qin had gotten Wang Jun into kung fu tea. Wang Jun bought a tea set to practice at home, admiring Qin’s fluid pour. But when he tried, it never looked right. Wang Jun had to admit—though his wealth might match Qin’s, his cultural depth fell far short. Qin was an ’80s university grad, a true scholarly merchant.
Wang Jun fiddled with the tea set briefly before losing patience.
He couldn’t match Qin’s refinement, so he’d stick to money—simpler, direct. The Wangs were rough folk for three generations up, and down one, Wang Shuang wasn’t studious. Compared to Qin Yi or Qin Jiao, they fell short every way. Wang Jun was half-resigned.
So when he heard his son wanted teachers, he wasn’t thrilled at first.
“What kind? Basketball coaches? Drummers? Last time you wanted guitar lessons, I got you a teacher. You learned two songs and quit. Don’t think I didn’t know—you just wanted to impress girls!”
Once the girlfriend was won, lessons stopped.
When he switched girlfriends, he’d pick another tactic—no need for guitar serenades.
Wang Jun was used to his son’s lack of follow-through.
But lately, Wang Shuang was all about “entrepreneurship.” Wang Jun figured he was too busy for random hobbies.
Wang Shuang flushed.
“No basketball, no drums. I mean tutors for school—Chinese, maths, English, for sure. Physics, chemistry, biology—set them all up! Dad, I’m in my second year next term. Don’t you care about my studies?”
Wang Shuang turned the tables, and Wang Jun nearly flung his teacup at him.
Care about studies? What good did that do?
Since primary school, Wang Jun dreaded parent-teacher meetings.
His cars got fancier each year, his wealth grew, his belly too—but in the classroom, his head sank lower annually.
Money didn’t help. Every meeting, teachers schooled him. They called him “Boss Wang” to his face, but behind his back, who knew how they mocked the Wangs as tacky nouveaux riches?
Wang Jun harboured a grudge.
The more people sneered at their upstart roots, the harder he pushed Wang Shuang’s “education.” He’d cut off living expenses and pocket money to force compliance, but the grandparents spoiled him, slipping cash behind Wang Jun’s back, worried Wang Shuang would miss a meal.
Wang Jun tried heart-to-hearts, sharing how his lack of education held him back.
But his little brat, useless at studying, was quick-witted in arguments, retorting confidently, “Dad, you’ve got no education and still became a big boss. I’m your son—I’ll be like you!”
Those memories still gave Wang Jun a headache.
Eventually, he gave up.
If Wang Shuang wouldn’t study, Wang Jun would throw money at it.
He’d shoved him into the provincial key school and planned to push him into a top university—domestic if possible, abroad if not—to shed the upstart label, at least outwardly. Now Wang Shuang was saying he wanted tutors?
Chinese, maths, English, physics, chemistry, biology.
Even as a ploy for pocket money, Wang Shuang had never used studying as an excuse. Wang Jun didn’t dare get too hopeful—he was wary. “Be honest. Did you cause big trouble out there?”
…
Compared to the Wangs’ father-son sparring, Qin Jiao was far more direct with her dad.
She told him about Shu Guobing, no embellishments.
Boss Qin chuckled. “What do you want me to do? Step in and sort out your friend’s shady relative? Jiaojiao, I get you want to help your friend, but that’s not how it works. From what you’ve said, this guy couldn’t even take on your Uncle Deng. You kids just focus on your business. If someone plays dirty, we don’t have to play nice either.”
