To Wang Jun and Qin Xianmin, Shu Guobing snatching the storefront “King Prawn” had its eye on was no big deal. With the wealth they’d built, they’d weathered countless storms in the business world.
Competition was par for the course. Wang Jun ran a phone mall on Taisheng South Road, where the whole street sold phones. He never thought to crush competitors just because his mall was bigger. At most, he’d open a store at one end of the street and another at the other to grab more market share—not drive every phone seller away.
Seeing Wang Jun’s success, plenty of relatives, even distant ones he hadn’t spoken to in decades, came asking for a leg up. Wang Jun was big-hearted. He didn’t mind relatives vying for a piece of his pie, as long as they weren’t plotting to ruin him. At his scale, only rivals of equal weight could threaten him.
“King Prawn” was just starting out, nowhere near Wang Jun’s level. Shu Guobing’s move looked tacky and desperate.
After a quick chat, Wang Jun and Boss Qin decided to let the kids handle Shu Guobing as practice.
“Wang Shuang and Qin Jiao are still too green,” Wang Jun said. “Old Qin, look at Wen Ying—she’s not even fazed.”
Qin wanted to say, “A poor kid grows up fast,” but it didn’t fit. Wen Ying’s family wasn’t rich, but they weren’t destitute either.
He settled for, “Wen Ying’s got real talent!”
Wang Jun chuckled. “Since Wang Shuang’s speaking up, I should do something. How about I have someone dig into her uncle again?”
Deng Shangwei had already checked Shu Guobing once—no ties to Yu Wenhao.
Now Wang Jun wanted another look, and Qin agreed. “Better safe than sorry. Give it a thorough check.”
They said they’d stay out of it, but how could they completely? The business was small, but it was their kids’ first brush with the real world.
Both fathers worried their kids wouldn’t grasp reality’s harshness—or that it’d crush them.
Qin Jiao was fine; Qin had the patience to nurture her growth. But Wang Shuang? Wang Jun had just glimpsed his son’s ambition. He feared if he didn’t support it, Wang Shuang would retreat into his shell.
…
Shu Guobing had no idea that trying to bully a young girl had stirred a hornet’s nest.
The sturdy hornets, tasked with guarding the hive, were buzzing, ready to strike the moment Shu Guobing slipped up. He was clueless about his predicament. Even Zhao Dong, lurking behind him, knew Wen Ying was tight with some rich kids but didn’t realise she was also a favorite of their parents’ generation.
Xie Qian saw it clearer: as long as “King Prawn” existed with Wen Ying at the helm, anyone targeting her would raise alarms with the Qin, Wang, Tang, and Geng families.
Shu Guobing, smug about grabbing “King Prawn’s” shop, bragged to his wife and daughter at home. “That brat Wen Ying dared look down on me. Now she knows I’m not to be messed with! Shame I didn’t see her face—it must’ve been priceless.”
Shu Guobing didn’t hate Wen Ying that much. His real issue was years of frustration, relying on Wen Dongrong’s handouts. A small favor breeds gratitude; too much breeds resentment. To Shu Guobing, Wen Dongrong’s help became expected.
If he gave money once, why not keep giving?
Last time, in front of family, Wen Dongrong walked out, leaving Shu Guobing humiliated. He held a grudge.
Add his feud with Deng Shangwei, and now, with a backer, Shu Guobing wanted everyone who’d slighted him to regret it.
Wen Ying was more of a scapegoat. Even with Boss Cai’s help, Shu Guobing couldn’t topple Deng Shangwei overnight. Deng’s seafood company seemed shaky, but as a market newbie, Shu Guobing needed time to steal his clients. He couldn’t touch Wen Dongrong either—Wen valued his reputation and had a solid standing at work. Even Zhao Dong hadn’t found a way to crack him. So Shu Guobing picked the easy target: Wen Ying.
Harming her would sting Deng Shangwei and Wen Dongrong, easing Shu Guobing’s resentment.
With such foul intentions, he kept quiet at first. But after bonding with Xiao Cai, he let a hint slip.
To his surprise, Xiao Cai was all in, suggesting the night market seafood diner plan.
Shu Guobing was smug, and Wen Hongyan clapped in delight. “No respect for elders—she deserves a lesson!”
They’d thought Wen Ying was just running a temporary stall. After Xiao Cai’s digging, they learned she was eyeing a night market shop with a courtyard—50,000 annual rent, 40,000 transfer fee, negotiating with the current tenant. Nearly 100,000 upfront! Wen Hongyan’s eyes reddened at the sum.
Even if Wen Ying had partners, she’d have to chip in some herself.
What money did Wen Ying have? It’d come from Wen Dongrong and Chen Ru!
That couple would fund Wen Ying’s antics but not Shu Lu’s education, yet claimed to care about Shu Lu?
Shu Lu stayed calm. “Dad’s got a benefactor now. Whether Second Uncle and Aunt support my studies doesn’t matter. Dad’s business comes first.”
Shu Lu saw clearer than her parents.
If Shu Guobing’s business thrived, they’d never need to bow to Wen Dongrong’s family again.
Better yet, if Shu Guobing could make money *and* put Wen Ying in her place, that’d be perfect for Shu Lu.
…
While the Shu family gloated, Wen Ying decided she shouldn’t stew alone.
Wen Dongrong loved playing the benefactor—Wen Ying had no issue with that.
But when his charity case came to mess with her, she had something to say.
She called her dad, laying out the whole story, eager for his take. “Gufather’s doing this. Should I compete with him? He’s a sore loser—I’m worried if I win, he’ll flip out.”
Wen Dongrong knew “King Prawn” involved some rich kids, so he wasn’t shocked they were moving from a stall to a proper shop. A hundred thousand was a lot for Wen Ying, but peanuts to those kids. He wasn’t clear on her share in the business.
But Shu Guobing snatching her chosen shop? That wasn’t about hurting a teenage girl—it was a jab at him!
Wen Ying’s question left Wen Dongrong’s cheeks burning.
For years, he’d seen himself as the Wen family’s “patriarch,” calling the shots at work and home. Now, her asking whether to compete with Shu Guobing hit him with two truths:
First, he, the patriarch, couldn’t control Shu Guobing.
Second, he, the father, couldn’t help his daughter.
