Wen Dongrong’s repeated setbacks in front of Black-Hearted Cotton and his lack of standing with Chen Ru didn’t mean he was a fool.
No need to ask Zhu Meiqun or Wen Ying’s eldest uncle. Wen Dongrong called his mother, weaving through the conversation subtly, and Grandma Wen, unable to resist his probing, let slip the truth.
The old lady genuinely slipped up, not playing any tricks.
Regretting it instantly, she refused to talk further with Wen Dongrong.
“Just leave it alone!”
Slam.
The old lady hung up abruptly.
Though only a few words were exchanged, it was enough for Wen Dongrong to piece together the whole story.
Zhu Meiqun’s job was fine, and the family wasn’t in desperate need of money, but Zhu Meiqun was trying to save up for Wen Kai!
Parents planning for their children’s future wasn’t wrong.
It wasn’t just Zhu Meiqun; his younger brother Chang Lin’s family also wanted to settle in Rongcheng.
Wen Dongrong stood on the balcony, smoking two cigarettes.
Aiming higher and wanting to establish roots in the provincial capital wasn’t just blameless—it was ambitious.
But selling roasted sweet potatoes? How many would she need to sell to save enough for Wen Kai to buy a house?
And Zhu Meiqun’s job—she’d worked for years. She couldn’t just throw it away. At the very least, she needed to keep up her social security payments to secure her pension!
Wen Dongrong was torn between worry and admiration, thinking Zhu Meiqun was at least smarter than Wen Hongyan. She was using her annual leave to test the waters in Rongcheng, not rashly quitting her job.
As for his younger brother Wen Changlin, a man in his prime at thirty-something—surely he wouldn’t quit his job to sell sweet potatoes with his sister-in-law?
If they waited a couple of years until he and Chen Ru eased the pressure of their own mortgage, then the family could discuss moving to Rongcheng. But now, the richest person in the family was Wen Ying. Asking Wen Ying to fund the Wen family’s ventures? Wen Dongrong couldn’t bring himself to do it!
Even if he had the nerve, he wouldn’t dare. Forget whether Black-Hearted Cotton would agree—he didn’t want to be banished to the balcony.
Burdened by these thoughts, Wen Dongrong couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning until he woke Chen Ru.
“A Party School course has you this excited?”
Grown man, can’t you be more composed?
Sure, this course likely meant a promotion, but until the appointment was official, anything could change. Without that much composure, Wen should give up on the promotion now!
“It’s not that…”
Wen Dongrong rarely stammered. Chen Ru grew alert. “Then what? Don’t tell me Wen Hongyan’s asking to borrow money again? I’m telling you, even if I had a million, I wouldn’t lend her a penny!”
“Where do you have a million?”
Wen Dongrong wouldn’t take that blame. He explained how Deng Shangwei had spotted Zhu Meiqun selling roasted sweet potatoes and how he’d coaxed the truth from his mother about the two families’ plans.
Chen Ru was astonished. “Selling roasted sweet potatoes?”
“What, you think it’s shameful? I’m telling you, your thinking needs to catch up. Sister-in-law isn’t troubling us. That’s self-reliance.”
Chen Ru gave a cold laugh.
Selling sweet potatoes wasn’t shameful.
But who was it that once looked down on Deng Shangwei for selling fish at a stall?
Now that it was a Wen family member, suddenly Wen’s thinking was progressive!
Wen Dongrong vehemently denied his past. “When did I ever say Wen Ying’s uncle selling fish was shameful? I was worried he couldn’t support his family without a stable job. We’re on good terms now, so don’t stir trouble!”
Late at night, Chen Ru couldn’t be bothered to argue.
Lately, Wen Dongrong and Deng Shangwei had grown close. Even her sister Chen Li was puzzled, jokingly saying her brother-in-law had changed.
The two often went out together on weekends, sometimes gone all day. Chen Li wasn’t worried, so Chen Ru had even less reason to be.
Wen Dongrong’s words made Chen Ru think. After considering it seriously, she shared her view: “Big Brother and Little Brother’s families aren’t like Wen Hongyan’s. If conditions allow, I’m not against helping them. But you know the saying—one bushel of rice breeds gratitude, a hundred breeds resentment. They haven’t told you anything, deliberately keeping it from you, which means they don’t need your help yet. Unless you’re set on taking full responsibility for both families, I suggest you pretend you don’t know and let Sister-in-law and Little Brother try it out.”
Rongcheng’s economy was more developed than their hometown, with plenty of money-making opportunities, but not everyone who came could strike it rich. There were many wealthy people here, but far more ordinary ones.
Zhu Meiqun and Wen Ying’s uncle Wen Changlin weren’t highly educated or skilled. Zhu Meiqun had a junior high education, Changlin a high school one.
Zhu Meiqun was the diligent, hardworking type, but landing a high-paying job was a pipe dream. Starting with a small business was a viable path.
As for Wen Changlin, he was quick-witted, suited for business or sales, and likely to find his footing in Rongcheng more easily than Zhu Meiqun.
Chen Ru wasn’t too worried they’d starve in Rongcheng. With able hands and feet, how lazy would they have to be to not support themselves?
But Zhu Meiqun and Wen Changlin both had jobs back home. Coming to Rongcheng was for a better life, carrying the hopes of two families. Whether it would work, whether they were suited for it, needed time to prove. Helping them before they tried on their own would be like pulling up seedlings to make them grow!
Unless he was committed to shouldering their futures entirely, now wasn’t the time to intervene.
Wen Dongrong wasn’t unreasonable. He understood the logic Chen Ru saw. After some sighs, before Chen Ru could lose her temper and kick him out of bed, he finally settled down to sleep.
It was a sense of loss.
Supporting the Wen family had become Wen Dongrong’s habit.
Now, with the Wen family showing a drive for self-reliance, he, the family patriarch, seemed redundant.
Oh, what a loss!
The next morning at breakfast, Wen Ying sensed Old Wen might be hitting menopause. One moment he complained the porridge was too thick, the next that the buns were too salty. It was the same breakfast shop their family of three often visited, making Wen Ying wonder if her taste buds were off. She tasted no difference.
“Eat your food. Ignore him.”
Chen Ru clearly had no intention of explaining. Wen Ying, seeing her dad’s huge dark circles, buried her head in her porridge.
Got it.
Either menopause insomnia.
Or a fight with Manager Chen!
But what was the fight about?
Had she done anything lately that needed Old Wen to take the blame?
Wen Ying reflected briefly, found no fault of her own, and decided not to bother.
On the 15th, the first issue of *Spark* magazine hit the shelves with a bang.
Wen Ying had seen the sample issue but bought a formal copy at the newsstand. The same newsstand lady pointed at her, mouth agape: “You’re Against-the-Flow Fish!”
Wen Ying tried to hush her, and the lady nodded vigorously.
“Alright, alright, low profile. Can you sign something for me?”
A signature was no big deal. The lady had been a fan of *Teen Idol* from the start, and they were old acquaintances. Wen Ying agreed readily.
Then the newsstand lady plopped a stack of *Spark* magazines in front of Wen Ying and went to fetch the last few copies of *Teen Idol*.
Wen Ying’s mouth twitched: that stack of *Spark* had to be over a hundred copies!
