Wang Jun didn’t know why Wen Dongrong was beating around the bush, but since it was his first time asking for help—drunk or not—Wang Jun was determined to make it happen. To tie Wen Ying to his side, he needed to be useful to her. Since she didn’t want Tianjiao shares, helping her father was the next best thing, indirectly binding her. And if Wen Ying was secured, Xie Qian wouldn’t stray far.
Wang Jun perked up, leaning forward from his chair, his expression serious. “I need details—everything. What business are they doing, how long, how much capital, their personality? Lay it all out!”
Wen Dongrong was surprised. “Does personality matter for business?”
Qin Xianming chimed in, “Of course it does. Some can only handle million-level businesses, others tens of millions, some billions, and some go bankrupt. Beyond seizing market opportunities, personality plays a huge role.”
Everyone knew Qin Xianming had boosted Deng Shangwei’s wealth to millions. But even without Qin, Deng would’ve been a boss. Personality shapes destiny; Qin just sped up Deng’s success. Yu Wenhao, on the other hand, was a cautionary tale—once worth billions, he lost it all, becoming a debtor.
Qin’s words resonated with Wen Dongrong. His career had outshone old Li’s, surely due to his stronger character. “The personality’s quite honest,” he said, describing Zhu Meiqun.
Zhu Meiqun had lived a straight-laced life, only venturing to the provincial capital in middle age for her son, Wen Kai, aiming to buy him a house. Could selling wontons achieve that? Probably, but Wen Dongrong couldn’t calculate how many bowls or how long it’d take. Besides, Zhu Meiqun and his brother’s long-distance marriage wasn’t sustainable. Wen Dongrong knew that feeling too well. Zhu Meiqun didn’t want to return home, so his brother needed to join her in Rongcheng.
Wen Dongrong’s patriarch mindset made it impossible to stand by while Zhu Meiqun struggled alone. Her decisions affected his nephew, brother, and mother—a whole family. His overbearing tendencies had once annoyed Chen Ru, but life’s lessons had tempered him, and he now expressed this with measured restraint.
Everyone at the table had a touch of that patriarch vibe. Li Zhentao’s relatives rallied to fund a film company to protect Li Mengjiao. Wang Jun supported his kin, helping friends enter his phone business, dominating Taisheng South Road with the “Wang Clan.” Qin Xianming mentored outsiders like Deng Shangwei, who even brought his sister Deng Yaomei to the city.
Their shared values bonded them. Wen Dongrong’s willingness to seek advice for his family wasn’t off-putting; they saw it as natural.
Hearing Wen Dongrong’s account, Wang Jun nodded. “That’s definitely small-scale business material.” Without ambition or boldness, pushing someone onto a big stage would harm, not help. If Zhu Meiqun just wanted a house in Rongcheng, forcing her to be a tycoon was absurd. But if she gained ambition and skill, scaling up wouldn’t be hard.
“Honest folks lose out on smooth-talking, but that’s their strength too. Some businesses suit them perfectly,” Wang Jun said. Selling phones? No way. It required salesmanship Zhu Meiqun lacked, plus a costly storefront. Seafood was better—reliable supply and hard work could earn hundreds of thousands yearly, enough for a house in two or three years. But Wen Dongrong didn’t mention seafood, and Wang Jun respected his pride, avoiding suggesting Deng Shangwei share his seafood business.
If not seafood, then fruit? Eager to impress, Wang Jun cut off Qin Xianming and Li Zhentao. “How about a fruit business? No need for sweet-talking, just don’t short-weight or sell subpar goods. Business will be fine.”
Selling wontons meant early mornings and street peddling; fruit allowed a fixed stall, sparing wind and rain. A store could be a husband-wife operation—perfect for Zhu Meiqun’s family.
Wen Dongrong hesitated. “Can fruit earn more than wontons?”
Wang Jun grinned. “Depends on who’s running it. If it were me, I’d pick wontons, hype them like ‘Shrimp King,’ and open chains for millions in a few years. Fruit’s harder to hype but lasts longer. Depends on your relative’s choice.”
Honest folks couldn’t handle big ventures. Everyone at the table was anything but honest. Forcing Zhu Meiqun into a wonton chain was beyond her, though someone like Wen Ying could’ve pulled it off at sixteen. Deng Shangwei seized a chance to speak. “Brother-in-law, we can help pick a spot to ensure Zhu Meiqun doesn’t lose money.”
Everyone offered practical suggestions tailored to Zhu Meiqun’s situation, whether sticking with wontons or trying something else. Wen Dongrong, inspired, stood with his glass. “I’ve seen the light today. A toast to you all!”
He drank first, and Wang Jun followed. “No need for thanks among friends.”
Deng Shangwei, drunkest of all, felt Wen Dongrong did him proud. Unable to drive, he had an employee pick them up. On the way, Deng, reeking of alcohol, opened up. “Brother-in-law, why treat me like an outsider? A small business? I could handle it myself!”
Wen Dongrong found Deng’s drunkenness distasteful. “Does your boss often get this drunk?” he asked the driver.
The employee shook his head. “First time I’ve seen it.” With Chen Li running the seafood company, Deng followed her lead. The driver, knowing Wen Dongrong was Deng’s brother-in-law, showed respect.
Satisfied, Wen Dongrong said, “Too much drinking causes trouble. For Deng’s future engagements, you drive and keep an eye on him. Understand?”
His patriarch aura was strong, outshining Deng Shangwei’s presence. The driver nodded vigorously.
