Wen Ying never imagined she’d end up at Rongcheng Amusement Park.
The place would shut down by 2008, and the last time she’d been here was in her previous life, June 2004.
And now she was here with Xie Qian of all people—she hadn’t even gone to an amusement park with He Zhen!
Tickets were cheap, just 2 yuan each. Once inside, you paid separately for rides. Thrilling ones like the roller coaster cost 25 yuan a ticket.
Gentler rides were cheaper, like the super swing, only 10 yuan a ticket.
Wen Ying stood in the park, feeling lost.
Her plans hadn’t included an amusement park. After more than a decade, she’d forgotten the layout of Rongcheng Amusement Park. She could only follow the crowd, dragging Xie Qian wherever they went.
After a while, she felt embarrassed and asked Xie Qian what he wanted to do.
The thought of Xie Qian’s perfect image being shattered by a thrilling ride gave her a tiny thrill.
Xie Qian suddenly stopped and pointed to the right. “How about that one?”
The sign read “Ferris Wheel, 5 yuan/person.” Not expensive, but the idea of riding a Ferris wheel with Xie Qian made Wen Ying’s cheeks flush just thinking about it.
Back when she was a dreamy young thing, she’d been poisoned by plenty of romantic clichés.
They said every girl should have a Ferris wheel romance, riding one with her boyfriend. At the peak, in that enclosed space, you could hear each other’s heartbeats.
While Wen Ying was lost in her thoughts, Xie Qian turned to her.
“Are you afraid of heights?”
“…What?”
Wen Ying blinked, confused.
Xie Qian said earnestly, “If you’re afraid of heights, we can pick something else.”
A joke! When Wen Ying was a practicing lawyer, she wasn’t even intimidated by the high court. A Ferris wheel’s height?
Xie Qian’s straight-man question popped her inappropriate romantic bubble. To prove she wasn’t scared, Wen Ying rolled up her sleeves and bought the tickets.
Handing a ticket to Xie Qian, she gritted her teeth. “Don’t try to save me money by picking cheap rides. After the Ferris wheel, we’ve got the high-altitude tumbling train and the brave man’s turntable waiting!”
Sigh.
So petite, yet so fiercely competitive.
Couldn’t even ask if she was afraid of heights.
Xie Qian was smart enough not to argue further. Girls’ tempers flared fast and inexplicably, but they’d forget soon enough.
He was right. Before the Ferris wheel even reached its peak, Wen Ying was pressing her face against the window, looking down, the height debate forgotten.
“Xie Qian, have you ever ridden a Ferris wheel before?”
Xie Qian shook his head. “First time.”
“Never been to an amusement park either?”
Wen Ying’s questions weren’t too personal. She genuinely wanted to know more about Xie Qian. He was going to share his “trouble” today, which was truly private, so she started with lighter topics to put him at ease.
Xie Qian was momentarily distracted by her question.
An amusement park? He’d gone as a young child.
Not just with his parents—Xie family elders loved taking him too. As a kid, he was a bit afraid of heights. He’d tried many rides but never a Ferris wheel.
The most unforgettable was Tokyo Disneyland in 1997.
In 1997, Hong Kong returned to China, and the Asian financial crisis swept through Thailand, then Malaysia, Singapore, Japan, Korea, and China.
Major Asian stock markets crashed, foreign trade companies were hit hardest, many large firms collapsed, workers lost jobs, and economies slumped. Yet Xie Jinghu’s business not only survived but thrived, snapping up industries crushed by the crisis, expanding his empire more than twofold!
In high spirits, Xie Jinghu took Xie Qian to Tokyo Disneyland for his birthday.
That year, Xie Qian was nine. The family of three took lots of photos at Tokyo Disneyland.
After a few days, Xie Jinghu sent Xie Qian and Zou Weijun back to China, saying he had to meet a client in Japan. Zou Weijun said Xie Jinghu worked too hard and told Xie Qian to appreciate him.
What did Xie Jinghu say then? Oh, that he earned money for Zou Weijun and Xie Qian, and their happiness made his efforts worthwhile.
Later… Xie Qian learned by chance that while Xie Jinghu was with them at Tokyo Disneyland, another woman and her two kids were staying at a Tokyo hotel, waiting for Xie Jinghu to send him and his mum off before seamlessly stepping in.
Xie Jinghu was busy, alright—not with clients, but playing “dad” to two other kids!
Every ride Xie Jinghu took Xie Qian on, he’d take those kids on too.
Every spot where Xie Jinghu posed for photos with Zou Weijun, he’d pose with that woman too.
Unsuspecting tourists might think they were a happy family of four.
Xie Qian didn’t hate amusement parks because of it, but when Wen Ying asked if he’d been to one, the unpleasant memory surfaced. To hide his discomfort, he changed the subject.
“You asked last night if I was in trouble. I am—it’s about Zhao Dong. He’s in the cultural tourism business in Rongcheng. I heard he failed to secure the franchise for a big amusement park, so he’s desperate to find allies and backers in China.”
A big amusement park?
After Rongcheng Amusement Park closed, the two biggest in the area were Guose Tianxiang and Happy Valley.
Guose Tianxiang would open to the public next year, not with amusement facilities but hosting a flower expo. The amusement area wouldn’t be finished then.
Happy Valley was even later, opening in 2009.
Timing-wise, Zhao Dong must have been competing for Guose Tianxiang’s franchise. It stayed popular until 2019, spawning many side projects. It took years and massive investment. Without enough capital and credentials, Zhao Dong couldn’t beat Guose Tianxiang’s developers!
Wen Ying realised belatedly, “So you wanted to check out Rongcheng Amusement Park today to gauge Zhao Dong’s financial strength by its scale?”
Guose Tianxiang was developed in phases—too big an investment. Even the company that won the franchise struggled, building and opening it bit by bit.
Not to look down on Zhao Dong, but if he had that kind of financial muscle, he wouldn’t be clinging to Xie Qian.
It was 2004, after all. China’s tycoons hadn’t yet seen their wealth explode. The Xie family was undoubtedly richer than Zhao Dong, but Wen Ying boldly guessed they couldn’t independently develop something like Guose Tianxiang either.
If the Xie family couldn’t, Zhao Dong was even further off.
Xie Qian didn’t respond, and Wen Ying found it odd.
“Wait, if Zhao Dong wants allies and backers, why’s he causing trouble for you? Shouldn’t he be trying to win you over?”
From Xie Qian’s expression, Wen Ying knew she’d hit the crux of the matter.
