Yang Xi was furious.
Wen Ying’s question about whether she was short on money felt like the epitome of “Why not eat meat porridge?”—clueless privilege.
Who in this world wasn’t short on money? Yang Xi just happened to be among the desperately broke.
The young girl was quick to flare up, but Wen Ying didn’t tease her further.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. If you’re short on money, I’d like to offer you a job.”
Yang Xi’s eyes flickered. “You want me to rough up your cousin?”
The police likely wouldn’t find anything. If Wen Ying wanted revenge, she’d have to take matters into her own hands. Shu Lu had used Yue Shanni to hire Yang Xi as muscle; now Wen Ying turning the tables to hire Yang Xi against Shu Lu seemed only fair.
The job wasn’t out of the question, but it depended on Wen Ying’s offer.
If the pay was good, Yang Xi would take the risk. If it was too low, she was set on lying low for a while, avoiding trouble.
“Dealing with her is definitely on the table, but not the way you’re thinking. I’m offering you a legitimate job. Before you take it, I need to confirm: are you really done with school?”
Like Qin Jiao, Yang Xi was in her third year of high school. Qin Jiao was sprinting toward the college entrance exam, while Yang Xi had time to collect protection fees.
Qin Jiao was the “model kid”; Yang Xi was the cautionary tale.
Wen Ying had noted Yang Xi’s school and class at the station. Before meeting her today, she’d called the school to inquire about Yang Xi’s situation.
Tardiness, early departures, and absences were routine for Yang Xi.
She often used bizarre excuses to skip class, splitting her time evenly between school and elsewhere. With such a lifestyle, her grades were unsurprisingly poor.
Her班主任 (class teacher) said Yang Xi simply didn’t want to learn.
If Yang Xi put in even a little effort, she wouldn’t be at the bottom.
The saying that poor kids mature early didn’t apply to Yang Xi. Her life goals didn’t include college. She was eager to dive into society, make money, and change her family’s circumstances, but her elderly guardian kept her in check.
The elder hoped Yang Xi would finish high school and earn a diploma, often pleading with the班主任 to discipline her.
The班主任 couldn’t control Yang Xi, viewing her as a lost cause. If not for pity for the elder, the school would’ve expelled her long ago.
When Wen Ying asked if Yang Xi still wanted to study, Yang Xi, chewing gum and slouching with a leg-shaking swagger, scoffed, “What’s the point of studying? Does it make you not poor?”
Good grades might not bring riches, but escaping poverty was entirely achievable.
Yang Xi didn’t believe it—or rather, she couldn’t wait.
After junior high, she’d wanted to quit school and make her way in the world, dreaming of overnight wealth to transform her family’s situation. But the elder insisted she continue.
If Yang Xi’s grades weren’t so abysmal, the elder would’ve pushed for college.
Wen Ying’s information came partly from the班主任 and partly from a newspaper in her past life. Advising Yang Xi to study hard would feel like empty platitudes. Yang Xi only cared about money now.
“I’m not here to preach about studying. I just want to confirm: if you only want a high school diploma, you don’t need to attend school anymore, right? My friends and I opened a shop, but we haven’t found the right person to manage it. The situation’s a bit complicated. I’m not sure if you’re interested, but don’t worry—I’m not stingy. The salary will definitely satisfy you.”
To get a high school diploma, you didn’t need to take the college entrance exam.
Theoretically, passing the sophomore-year proficiency test was enough for Yang Xi to graduate.
Some uninterested students did just that—after the proficiency test, they stopped attending school and started working.
When Wen Ying mentioned salary, Yang Xi perked up. Wen Ying briefly explained her feud with the Shu family, and Yang Xi listened with relish.
When Wen Ying mentioned the ‘Shrimp King’ store being vandalized, Yang Xi got it instantly: “You want me to hold down the fort?”
“I want you to manage the store. Managing means handling everything—ensuring ‘Shrimp King’ opens smoothly, checking if the chefs are slacking, or if the workers are cutting corners. In short, I’m paying you to make my store more profitable!”
Wen Ying had no patience for sparring with her uncle, Shu Guobing, so she was hiring Yang Xi.
Yang Xi had heard of ‘Shrimp King.’ Bringing spicy crawfish to Rongcheng’s late-night dining scene showed real business savvy.
She hadn’t expected the boss to be standing before her.
Yang Xi smirked, “You’re hiring me to work at your store. Aren’t you afraid I’ll steal your recipe and go solo?”
Wen Ying shrugged, “If that day comes, I’ll congratulate you. Every ‘Shrimp King’ employee could try going solo. Success isn’t just about the recipe—it’s about who’s wielding it.”
Plenty of people held recipes but couldn’t use them.
Some recipes faded into history, while others flourished in capable hands. Take spices: some vendors stayed small forever, while others made a name for themselves. The late founder of “Thirteen Spices” turned a humble seasoning packet into a nationally renowned brand.
Was “Thirteen Spices”’ recipe unbreakable?
Of course it could be cracked and imitated.
Even now, knockoff “Thirteen Spices” products existed. From its founding to its rise, the brand fought a long war against counterfeits and copycats, investing heavily in patent and trademark lawsuits. It still stood tall, dominating the market, not just because of the recipe’s uniqueness but because the Wang family behind it was exceptional.
If Yang Xi wanted to go solo, Wen Ying would cheer her on.
If Yang Xi stayed with ‘Shrimp King,’ Wen Ying wouldn’t shortchange her.
As for fearing recipe theft? Countless crawfish stalls in town had sent “customers” to spy on ‘Shrimp King’ or hired on as workers only to quit after half a month.
Imitators abounded, but Wen Ying wasn’t fazed.
‘Shrimp King’ remained Rongcheng’s top crawfish business.
If Wen Ying was joking, Yang Xi wouldn’t have minded.
But the more serious Wen Ying got, the more confused Yang Xi became.
Was Wen Ying out of her mind? Yang Xi was a delinquent without a high school diploma. With a high enough salary, Wen Ying could hire a college graduate.
Why hire her?
Why *her*?
Was Wen Ying pitying her or setting her up to take the fall?
Life had taught Yang Xi that nothing came free—every good thing had a price.
“Don’t mess with me!” Yang Xi spat out her gum, glaring fiercely at Wen Ying.
Wen Ying laughed, “I’m not messing with you. I think you’ve got leadership skills.”
At the very least, she had those delinquents following her orders without question—proof of Yang Xi’s charisma and ability.
Yang Xi suspected Wen Ying was mocking her but had no proof.
She didn’t agree to Wen Ying’s offer right away, saying she’d think it over.
“Fine. Call me when you’ve decided. If I don’t pick up, I’m probably in class. Try again during a break.”
As Yang Xi walked away, strutting with her signature “I own the place” swagger, Wen Ying saw a hint of someone fleeing in panic.
Yang Xi would definitely agree.
Because Yang Xi was broke!
After last night’s police station fiasco, Yang Xi wouldn’t dare collect protection fees for a while.
She couldn’t find a legit job with better terms than Wen Ying’s. Wen Ying saw Yang Xi’s strengths, but others might not.
Even if they did, why bend the rules for Yang Xi?
As Yang Xi herself said, for the same pay, you could hire a college grad with ease.
Wen Ying’s generous salary and trust in Yang Xi stemmed partly from ‘Shrimp King’’s real need, her desire to pit Yang Xi against Shu Guobing, and her past-life impression of Yang Xi.
That incident hadn’t happened yet.
Wen Ying hoped it never would.
Certain Yang Xi would accept the job at ‘Shrimp King,’ Wen Ying told the store’s shareholders before Yang Xi even replied.
Wang Shuang, lately obsessed with studying to climb the ranks in the next monthly exam, was furious upon learning ‘Shrimp King’ had been vandalized: “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Tell you earlier so you could what, pick a fight? Wang Shuang, those people aren’t worth a single toe of yours. Are they worth fighting?”
Wen Ying’s scolding should’ve angered Wang Shuang, but her words hit his ego just right, and he couldn’t stay mad.
—After all, few people in this world mattered more than Young Master Wang’s toes.
Geng Xiao asked Wen Ying, “Why Yang Xi? Just to fight fire with fire?”
Relying on Yang Xi to handle Shu Guobing didn’t seem quite right.
No matter how tough Yang Xi was, she’d only turn eighteen in a couple of months. How could a delinquent girl take on a seasoned rogue like Shu Guobing?
Wen Ying shook her head, “It’s not just fighting fire with fire. I believe in Yang Xi’s character.”
That statement might surprise even Yang Xi herself, unaware of her own “character.”
Xie Qian, in high spirits after accompanying Zou Weijun to a therapist, was more lenient toward unimportant people and asked Wen Ying to elaborate on Yang Xi.
“I’ll share what I know. Yang Xi was an abandoned baby.”
…
“Big Grandpa, Second Grandpa, Grandma, I’m back.”
In an old neighborhood lived the Yang family of four.
It was an unusual household: three elderly members and a teenage granddaughter, with no middle generation.
The granddaughter was Yang Xi. On New Year’s Day 1987, Yang Hong’an, the elder, found an abandoned baby. The Yang family was desperately poor. Yang Hong’an’s wife had intellectual disabilities, barely able to care for herself. The couple’s children hadn’t survived to adulthood. They lived with Yang Hong’an’s younger brother, who had polio.
That year, Yang Hong’an was nearly sixty. Intending to send the baby to an orphanage, he found the infant unusually attached to him, crying unless he held her. In the end, with government approval, Yang Hong’an adopted the baby, naming her Yang Xi.
