Showing off at work gave Wen Dongrong the courage to face his bleak life.
Moreover, having his own car, even a used one costing a few tens of thousands, brought immense convenience. From that day on, no matter how late he worked, Wen Dongrong could drive to Rongcheng.
For a middle-aged man, home is where his wife is. Even if Chen Ru no longer cooked for him, got off work later than him, and left him to wash clothes and cook, the feeling was different.
The biggest pity was that Old Li now avoided him, robbing Wen Dongrong of some fun.
Old Li was too petty. After years as colleagues with such a deep bond, what harm was there in hearing a bit of bragging? The more Old Li acted this way, the more Wen Dongrong greeted him warmly. Old Li was so annoyed he could grind his teeth, but ignoring Wen Dongrong risked office gossip.
Though everyone knew they were longtime rivals, resignations or transfers were rare in their agency. Barring surprises, they’d be colleagues for life. Openly falling out was uncommon.
So, no matter how much Old Li disliked Wen Dongrong, he had to maintain surface harmony, making Wen’s flaunting especially hard to bear.
After years of work, Old Li had never anticipated a Spring Festival holiday as much as this year. A seven-day break meant seven days without seeing that pest Wen Dongrong!
Wen Dongrong, gleefully tormenting Old Li, returned to Rongcheng happy to sleep on the sofa.
Seeing him sink the sofa two centimeters, Chen Ru reluctantly ended his punishment. She held a serious family meeting, warning him not to gloat after getting a deal.
To prevent this from happening again, Chen Ru decided to impose financial controls on Wen Ying.
Wen Ying could indeed earn her own money, and Chen Ru didn’t ask how much she had, but believed Wen Ying should learn to manage it and control her spending urges.
“You keep your money. Neither your dad nor I will ask for it, but any spending over a thousand yuan must be discussed with me. If it’s justified, I won’t stop you.”
Buying a car in secret like this couldn’t happen again.
Wen Dongrong, listening, felt Chen Ru was hinting at him.
As if he’d trick Wen Ying into spending her money—was he that kind of person?
Over a thousand yuan needing approval?
Wen Ying had been financially independent for a while, spending her own earnings, and wasn’t used to asking permission, even from her own mum.
But in Shanghai, she’d resolved to be more understanding with her parents. Chen Ru’s request, though hard for her, was reasonable for a typical high schooler. Wen Ying couldn’t outright refuse.
“Mum, my money has business cash flow needs. If every expense over a thousand needs your approval…”
Business was best avoided!
If Wen Ying’s studies hadn’t stayed strong and Shrimp King’s earnings weren’t beyond Chen Ru’s income, she’d have forced Wen Ying to quit.
Silently chanting “go with the flow” and “be understanding,” Chen Ru compromised: “Business expenses don’t count. I mean personal spending.”
Without buying cars or houses, Wen Ying’s daily expenses were minimal.
Chen Ru’s rule applied to over a thousand yuan, leaving smaller amounts unrestricted.
For a high schooler’s spending level, branded sneakers cost four or five hundred, winter coats rarely exceeded a thousand, and Wen Ying didn’t need electronics. There seemed to be no big-ticket expenses—
“How long does this restriction last?”
Wen Ying was softening.
Chen Ru wanted to say until university graduation, but Wen Dongrong cut in: “Until you’re an adult.”
University was impossible.
Before high school graduation, Wen Ying lived at home, so parents could track big expenses. At university, living on campus, even an emperor couldn’t control a general in the field—how could they monitor her spending?
If a child underperformed, parents worried.
If a child excelled too much, parents still worried.
When a child no longer needed parental financial support, discipline relied on emotional appeals and reasoning.
“A car bought you off?”
Chen Ru glared at Wen Dongrong.
He coughed: “Let’s talk in the room.”
He pulled Chen Ru inside, and after much whispering, they aligned. Wen Dongrong’s eloquence convinced Chen Ru to lift the spending limit when Wen Ying turned eighteen.
“Fine, I agree.”
Wen Ying joked: “Do we need a contract?”
Chen Ru and Wen Dongrong exchanged a glance, nodding in unison.
A contract was good—written proof Wen Ying couldn’t dodge.
The couple was influenced by Wen Ying, who’d used contracts to bind them. Now they could bind her too.
Wen Ying recalled the first contract she signed with her parents after her rebirth, reminding them she’d won the right to choose her university and major.
Chen Ru hadn’t forgotten.
If she hadn’t carelessly signed that, she’d have pushed Wen Ying in Shanghai to align with Wu Chunqin’s husband’s university.
That was too hasty!
Chen Ru took the signed contract to the room. In the living room, only Wen Ying and Wen Dongrong remained. Wen Ying grumbled: “So, the car deal ended with you getting all the benefits. I spent the money, got no credit, and now I’m stuck with a spending limit!”
Wen Dongrong glanced at her.
“You chose to be filial with the car. I didn’t force you. I took the blame in front of your mum. Without my pleading, this limit would last until university. Be content—who could force you to sign?”
He counted on his fingers for Wen Ying: Shrimp King’s stall was approved because he persuaded Chen Ru.
Her Shanghai essay contest? He was the first to support it.
In supporting Wen Ying, he was always at the family’s forefront, with foresight and vision. She shouldn’t fault him.
Wen Dongrong felt he’d earned his stripes and accepted the car with a clear conscience!
Father and daughter locked eyes. Wen Ying forced a fake smile, and Wen Dongrong sensed trouble. She called to Chen Ru, just out of the room: “Mum, if I need approval for spending over a thousand, shouldn’t Dad too?”
That reminded Chen Ru—Wen Dongrong had a history of “helping the weak.”
Wen Ying’s reckless spending was at least for the family. Wen Dongrong’s was for outsiders!
Chen Ru decided all his expenses over five hundred yuan needed approval. Wen Dongrong protested: if Wen Ying’s limit was a thousand, why was his only five hundred?
Chen Ru crossed her arms, sneering: “Do you earn as much as she does?”
Those who earn more should spend more.
Those who earn less should know their place!
Chen Ru’s blunt standard left Wen Dongrong speechless.
He was the family’s lowest earner… no wonder his “head of the family” status was shaky.
Late at night, with Wen Ying and Chen Ru asleep, Wen Dongrong secretly studied English.
Words weren’t just words—they were money.
Each word learned might raise his spending limit by a yuan.
Earning money was always hard.
Further studies—he’d outdo Chen Ru, hah!
…
Wen Ying didn’t distribute dividends to Shrimp King’s shareholders, opting to use funds to start a company, but didn’t shortchange the staff. After a busy winter, she gave out year-end bonuses on the 29th of the twelfth lunar month.
No matter how good business was, staff needed rest. Shrimp King closed from New Year’s Eve to the fourth day of the lunar year.
Yang Xi, the manager, got a bonus tied to the shop’s revenue. With Shrimp King’s booming business, her bonus was substantial.
With it, the Yang family could have a prosperous New Year. Though they couldn’t move to a better house yet, their home was improving—new paint today, a new bed tomorrow, no pressure for Yang Xi. The small, once-dirty, dim house became tidy and bright.
She no longer envied neighbors’ lavish New Year goods—she could afford them!
Yang Xi even met up with old friends for shopping.
Now flush, Sister Xi treated them to milk tea and spicy hotpot, ordering meat freely and adding extras to drinks. Her generosity stunned her old crew.
It seemed Sister Xi was doing well, and that round-faced girl didn’t dare bully her.
One friend, sipping milk tea, secretly sized up Yang Xi.
Yang Xi, out of school, was more mature than before. Even warm with her old crew, there was a distance, not like the old closeness.
Right now, Sister Xi was distracted.
Her friend’s instinct was right—Yang Xi, drinking milk tea, was thinking elsewhere.
Before the holiday, Wen Ying talked to her about starting a catering company after the New Year. Yang Xi could stay as store manager, but if she wanted to climb higher, Wen Ying saw her as a reserve executive.
A small eatery could rely on street smarts to handle trouble and charm for relationships, but a proper company needed more than Yang Xi’s usual tricks—learning was the answer!
Wen Ying said the company would offer training, and staff could study further on their own. Once established, benefits like bonuses would follow clear standards, not the boss’s mood. Formal employees would get social insurance per national rules.
In catering, staff turnover was high. Even in 2019, few restaurants offered servers social security.
From this, Wen Ying was steering Shrimp King toward a formal catering company. Growth required solid benefits and promotion paths to retain talent.
Yang Xi didn’t need to care about Shrimp King’s long-term plans, but she could weigh being a hired manager versus a formal employee with benefits.
No choice—she’d have to learn.
—Leaving school and still studying was brutal for a poor student!
