Buying a house in 2005 was certainly different from 2019.
In 2019, Shanghai’s property purchase restrictions were strict, requiring qualification reviews and cumbersome procedures.
Now, buying a house was much simpler, especially with a sufficient budget for a full payment. It was almost too easy to buy a property.
Wen Ying didn’t bother looking at houses outside Shanghai’s inner ring—she aimed straight for the prime locations. She planned to pick a property and then inform Xie Qian. If he agreed, she’d help pay the deposit. The property transfer would require Xie Qian’s cousin to come to Shanghai in person, or they could prepare the documents and have someone handle it on her behalf.
This gift might not sway Xie Qian’s uncle, but his aunt would surely be delighted.
Compared to 2019, Shanghai’s property prices in January 2005 were like slightly pricier cabbages. But compared to other cities at the time, Shanghai’s prices were far ahead. It wasn’t unusual to spend a million on a house in the inner ring.
This was a long-term gift. As Shanghai’s property prices soared in the future, Xie Qian’s aunt would feel grateful to Xie Qian and his mother every time she thought of the house.
Gifting it under Xie Qian’s name would seem odd, but using Zou Weijun’s name would feel more natural.
Wen Ying was confident she could convince Zou Weijun.
Zou Weijun wasn’t the type to curry favour with her husband’s relatives to save her marriage, but if it was for Xie Qian’s benefit, she’d be willing.
Sigh, Wen Ying had only wanted to be friends with Xie Qian at first, but now that they were friends, she couldn’t help but worry about him like a mother hen.
Mother Hen Wen requested a city map from the hotel front desk and studied it in her room, racking her brain to recall details from her past life. She wanted to choose the perfect house for Xie Qian’s cousin, one with a great living environment that aligned with Shanghai’s development plans for the next decade, ensuring maximum profit whether lived in or sold.
In her past life, Wen Ying hadn’t put much thought into buying her own house. Busy with work, she followed a colleague’s recommendation for a Jinhu Real Estate property, visited it once, confirmed her savings covered the down payment, and sealed the deal.
Now, picking a house for someone else, she was pulling out all the stops, terrified of making a mistake and offending Xie Qian’s uncle, a valuable ally.
Wen Ying finally circled a few locations on the map, losing track of time. Before she knew it, it was 11 p.m., and Chen Ru slipped back quietly.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” Chen Ru asked.
“Mum, I was waiting for you. I couldn’t sleep without you back,” Wen Ying replied.
That sounded like something a high school girl would say, not the fearless, bold Wen Ying.
Chen Ru said casually, “I haven’t seen your Aunt Wu in years. We had a lot to catch up on. After your semifinals tomorrow, she wants to meet you.”
Chen Ru’s voice was hoarse.
Wen Ying noticed her mother’s eyes were red.
Reuniting with an old friend after so long naturally stirred emotions. Wen Ying pictured her mum and Aunt Wu teary-eyed, but to save Chen Ru’s face, she pretended not to notice the signs of crying.
Even the toughest people had emotions. It was normal for Chen Ru to be moved by seeing an old friend.
“Mm, I’ll do my best in the semifinals tomorrow,” Wen Ying promised.
After washing up, Wen Ying lay in bed, her mind flitting between the house and the competition. Soon, she drifted off.
Chen Ru, however, couldn’t sleep.
When she graduated from university, Chen Ru had the chance to work in a big city, but with her parents in poor health and only two daughters in the family, she, as the eldest, couldn’t leave them to her younger sister, Chen Li, who was still in school.
So, Chen Ru returned to her small hometown and joined a bank.
Later, she followed the expected path: married through a blind date, had Wen Ying with Wen Dongrong.
In stark contrast was her old friend Wu Chunqin, whom she met today.
Wu Chunqin was initially assigned to a factory in Shanghai but had higher ambitions than a junior college diploma. While peers were marrying, she pursued further studies.
Her efforts paid off. Wu Chunqin earned a master’s and doctorate, secured a university teaching position, and married at 30 to a professor from another Shanghai university. Five years ago, realising academia wasn’t her calling, she took a leave of absence to start a business, now owning a sizable company in Shanghai.
Same starting point, different lives. Chen Ru, reflecting on her midlife career push, felt a wave of emotion.
Wu Chunqin wasn’t condescending. Back in their dorm days, they’d been the closest. Despite Wu Chunqin’s success and Chen Ru’s modest progress, Wu never looked down on her. Learning Chen Ru was in Shanghai with her daughter for a competition, Wu Chunqin insisted on meeting Wen Ying. Though no longer in academia, her husband was still a professor, and she understood the New Concept Essay Competition’s significance better than most.
It was a writing contest, but more than that.
Sponsored by multiple top universities, it had evolved from guaranteed admissions to score reductions—a shortcut to success.
Winning first prize was no easy feat.
Wu Chunqin made no promises to Chen Ru, but her hints left Chen Ru anxious, fearing Wen Ying might be unfairly edged out.
Others had connections; Wen Ying didn’t. Starting the semifinals at a disadvantage was unacceptable.
Chen Ru hated asking for favours, but for Wen Ying’s future, she swallowed her pride and sought Wu Chunqin’s guidance tonight. Wu didn’t mock her, but Chen Ru felt uneasy.
She couldn’t boast about this to Wen Ying. Lying in bed, she tossed and turned, while Wen Ying slept soundly on the other bed, even snoring lightly like a little piglet.
Whether son or daughter, children were parents’ lifelong burdens, always causing worry.
The next morning, Chen Ru had dark circles under her eyes, caked with layers of powder that cracked under her dry skin.
Wen Ying wanted to comment but held back.
Her mum’s concealer technique was all wrong.
But pointing it out would invite Chen Ru to question why she knew such things, accusing her of not focusing on studies. That would spark a morning argument.
At the exam venue, Chen Ru urged Wen Ying to write well.
Wen Ying nodded, “I’ll do my best!”
No one knew who’d win or lose. Contestants could only guess.
Unlike math or physics competitions with objective standards, essay contests relied on subjective judgment. Wen Ying wasn’t aiming for first prize to lower her admission score. Her pressure came from Chen Ru’s expectations. Song Chan, however, was different—she was determined to win first prize.
A second-year high school student, Song Chan was far more anxious about score reductions.
Plus, many at her school knew she was in Shanghai for the semifinals. Returning empty-handed would be humiliating.
Whatever their motivations, everyone faced the same exam.
This year’s semifinals, like previous ones, offered two topics.
Topic 1 provided an opening, requiring contestants to create a title and continue the story from a blind person’s perspective, set during their journey.
Topic 2 was “The Chinese Farmer in My Eyes.”
Wen Ying immediately ruled out Topic 2.
Writing about an unfamiliar subject would be shallow. Topic 1 was the better choice.
With three hours from planning to submission, Wen Ying knew flashy writing wouldn’t cut it at this stage. Judges wanted maturity and depth.
She brainstormed several character profiles and story arcs, rejecting each one.
Other contestants had started writing, but she hadn’t put down a single word.
She wasn’t a literary genius or a natural talent.
After half an hour, Wen Ying finally picked up her pen.
Why would a blind person travel alone? Their character, their reason for the journey—these were rich with potential. The story couldn’t be straightforward; it needed to unfold gradually, through interactions with other passengers, building layers and showcasing the story through character conflicts.
Wen Ying started slowly but wrote smoothly once she began.
The story was already in her head.
Submitting to youth magazines, Wen Ying was at a disadvantage.
But in the New Concept Essay Competition, she had an edge.
At her real age, she’d be overqualified for Group C, yet here she was in Group B, competing with first-year high school and middle school students.
She couldn’t beat others in most things.
But in writing with depth, Wen Ying, with two lifetimes of experience and insight, outshone her Group B peers.
Song Chan started quickly but, dissatisfied halfway through, revised two paragraphs before switching to a fresh sheet.
Glancing at Wen Ying, who wrote steadily without hesitation, Song Chan thought, She’s holed up in her hotel room, not socializing with other contestants. What gives this fool the right to compete with me?
But they weren’t even in the same group, so there was no real comparison.
Song Chan steadied herself and resumed writing.
The exam room was filled only with the sound of pens on paper.
Wen Ying finished, tweaked some details, and submitted her essay. Once handed in, she let go of any worries and left the exam room feeling light.
Chen Ru grabbed her, asking how she did. Wen Ying thought she’d written well.
“No idea if the judges will like it,” she added.
Chen Ru didn’t want to dampen her confidence, especially since the essay was already submitted.
“Go rest at the hotel. At six tonight, your Aunt Wu will pick us up for dinner. She and I are close friends, so don’t be too formal when you meet her, but mind your manners, got it?”
Wen Ying chuckled, “Mum, I won’t embarrass you!”
Chen Ru pinched her arm, “Don’t pull any stunts. Behave when you meet her.”
To ask for a favour, Wen Ying needed to make a good impression on Wu Chunqin. Chen Ru didn’t spell it out, fearing Wen Ying’s stubborn streak might ruin things.
Letting it happen naturally would keep Wen Ying at ease.
Chen Ru’s intentions were heartfelt, and Wen Ying didn’t pry about “Aunt Wu.” At six, Wu Chunqin arrived to pick them up. When Wen Ying saw her step out of the car, her eyes widened.
How to put it? Her mood was like seeing He Zhen’s mother, Madam Dai, in Macau!
This Aunt Wu—she knew her.
