Chapter 103:

Ding Minxiu heard him say four words and suddenly stopped, looking over in confusion: “What’s wrong?”

Zhao Qiaoniang slowly continued, “…If you hadn’t been with your husband back then, could we have lived a different life?”

They wouldn’t have to work so hard now, only getting a few days off a month, yet even on those rare rest days, they couldn’t catch their breath.

They had to go out and earn money—the family needed it, and they had no choice.

Ding Minxiu’s face turned cold, her voice sharpening. “Mom, what are you saying? If I hadn’t been with Boyang back then, would I even have the life I have now?”

She took a deep breath. “If I hadn’t been with him, I would’ve been sent to the countryside. You know how many female educated youths never came back after going down to the villages. Even if they did, most returned with families in tow. Is that what you wanted for me?”

“Have you forgotten? Just look at the Yu family—Yu Xianghe went to the countryside and never came back. I’m your only daughter—how could you bear that?”

Zhao Qiaoniang’s lips trembled. “Of course I couldn’t bear it, but what choice did I have?”

Being with Zhou Boyang meant she didn’t have to toil in the fields, but was her life any easier now?

Her grandson—she had once thought he was a filial boy, but now that he was working, he still slacked off constantly. He had a child to raise, yet whenever he ran out of money, he came to them. At her age, she still had to travel far from home to work.

She didn’t know when he would grow up, but she was already old, her body constantly aching here and there. She was reaching her limit.

Ding Minxiu sneered. “No choice? Ha! If you really want to talk about ‘what ifs,’ why not ‘what if’ you’d given birth to a son? If I’d been a boy, Dad wouldn’t have divorced you, and I’d be your only child. Then I wouldn’t have had to go to the countryside!”

Ding Minxiu’s household registration had always been under her biological father’s name. He later remarried and had a son. With the rule that only one child per family could stay in the city, there was no question—her father would’ve sent her, the daughter, to the countryside.

The more she spoke, the more resentment boiled inside her. “If I’d been born a boy, our family would’ve stayed together. I wouldn’t have gone to the countryside, and you wouldn’t have had to remarry. How perfect.”

Tears streamed down Zhao Qiaoniang’s face, her voice trembling. “You’re tearing my heart out…”

Did Zhao Qiaoniang not wish she’d had a son?

She dreamed of it.

Daughters would eventually marry out—sons were the ones who stayed to care for parents in old age. Because she’d given birth to a daughter, she’d slaved away in the Ding family, nearly losing her life there. Even after returning to her parents’ home, she wasn’t welcomed.

Her parents had been willing to help, but they weren’t long-lived, passing away within a few years. She’d been so desperate she’d almost taken her own life with her daughter in her arms—until the Yu family came asking if she’d be willing to help care for their child, offering food and shelter for her and her daughter. She’d agreed.

It had been her best option at the time.

At the Yu family’s, she’d finally had a few peaceful years.

Ding Minxiu scoffed. “Right, at the Yu family’s, you put Yu Xiangju, that son, at the very center of your heart. Did you forget? He wasn’t even related to you by blood—I was your only child. Yet you treated him better than me! Whenever there was something good in your bowl, the biggest piece always went to him—I got the scraps!”

Ding Minxiu’s resentment burned even now, the memory still fresh.

Zhao Qiaoniang: “…He was so much younger than you, just a child. I gave him a little extra—it wasn’t like your portion was much smaller.” She had been the one eating the least.

Ding Minxiu: “You gave him more because he was younger? No—it was because he was a son. Wake up! He wasn’t even your son!”

Zhao Qiaoniang’s heart felt as if it had been sliced open. “…I know he wasn’t my son.” If only she’d really had one.

Zhao Qiaoniang took a deep breath, trying to calm her emotions.

But Ding Minxiu remained agitated. “If you’d given birth to a son back then, none of this would’ve happened. If the man you remarried later had been wealthy and powerful, I wouldn’t be living like this. You can’t blame me—you have no right to. You couldn’t help me, so I had to find my own way out! And look—I succeeded, didn’t I? Sure, there were setbacks, but my life now isn’t bad.” As she spoke, her anger gradually subsided.

Some of her classmates had been sent to the countryside.

When they were allowed back to the city, they were all worn out, their hands covered in calluses.

Few returned alone—and even those who did might have abandoned husbands and children.

After returning, their lives were still a mess—no jobs, no income. If they wanted to remarry, their options were mostly older, divorced men. Every time Ding Minxiu saw them, she felt nothing but relief.

Slowly, her mood stabilized, and she asked Zhao Qiaoniang, “Why bring this up all of a sudden?”

Zhao Qiaoniang wiped her tears. “I happened to see Yu Xiang’an.”

Ding Minxiu’s expression froze. “You ran into her? Did she see you? How is she? Where was she?” The questions spilled out in rapid succession.

Zhao Qiaoniang lowered her head, her voice quiet. “…She looked like she was doing well. She didn’t see me—I was off to the side. I spotted her near where I was handing out flyers today.”

Ding Minxiu’s tone turned icy. “Oh, of course. She must be doing well—married a good man, had twins, a son and a daughter. Her life must be perfect.”

Zhao Qiaoniang stayed silent. Should she tell her daughter what she’d heard? She smiled bitterly—if her daughter knew, she’d seethe in secret, and she didn’t want her to ruin her health with anger.

Ding Minxiu pressed on. “Do you know where she lives?” Maybe they could find out where Yu Xiangju lived. Even if they didn’t confront him now, knowing his location would make it easier to track him down later.

Zhao Qiaoniang shook her head. “I saw her outside—how would I know?” Even if she did, she wouldn’t say. She didn’t want to appear before any of the Yu family except Yu Xiangju—it would only make her feel ashamed.

Ding Minxiu was disappointed. “Then take on more jobs near the food court next time. Maybe you’ll run into her again, and we can observe more carefully then.”

Zhao Qiaoniang: “…No, I don’t want to go back.”

The thought of earning money in Yu Xiang’an’s territory made her uncomfortable.

*

When Yu Xiang’an arrived at the food court, she first walked around to observe the foot traffic and the service attitudes of the shops, even sampling dishes from two random stores that caught her interest.

Gu Nanfeng watched with a smile.

He was confident.

Everything here was thriving.

Yu Xiang’an was indeed satisfied—everything was orderly.

Gu Nanfeng: “It’s all thanks to the rules you set back then, boss. We just follow the system.”

Gu Nanfeng deeply admired his boss.

He had been one of the first to follow her in the capital.

From a single Wuwei Restaurant and a hot pot shop to now—Wuwei Restaurant had expanded to hundreds of locations.

There had been challenges along the way, but none of them seemed to faze her.

The expansion never stopped.

And he, too, had prospered under her wing.

From a small restaurant owner to now the general manager.

Now that he’d made something of himself, his stepmother and half-brother’s expressions were priceless. Every time he thought about it, it felt like chugging an ice-cold soda on a sweltering summer day—pure satisfaction.

This life hadn’t come easy, so he cherished it, double-checking every detail. Now that the boss was conducting a surprise inspection, he wasn’t the least bit nervous.

Yu Xiang’an indeed found nothing amiss. She then went to the office to review reports and sign documents. By the time she finished and headed back, it was already dark.

Checking the time, she immediately called Guangzhou. Zhao Shanhe was staying with the twins—now that Lin Chuanbai was away on a long trip, the two of them weren’t worried about safety.

When the call connected, Lin Yihong answered obediently, “Mom, have you eaten?”

Yu Xiang’an: “Yes, I have. What about you?”

“We’ve eaten too.”

Yu Xiang’an got straight to the point. “I got a call from your dad today. He said your teacher wants to see the parents. What happened?”

Lin Yihong hesitated. He’d had scuffles before—kids playing together often ended up roughhousing—but it had never been serious enough to warrant a parent-teacher meeting. This was the first time.

Lin Yihong quickly explained, “Mom, I can explain. My sister takes self-defense classes, and I take martial arts. After my class, I went to pick her up and saw someone sneaking around behind her. I thought he was trying to do something to her, so I fought him. Later, we found out he wasn’t a threat—he was actually the one who’d chased off some troublemakers earlier. I hit the wrong guy.” His voice grew sheepish.

Yu Xiang’an: “Who was he? And who were the troublemakers? Were you hurt?”

Lin Yining chimed in, “Mom, let me explain. There’s this high schooler, Huang Hua, who wanted me to be his girlfriend. I said no, but he kept bothering me. Zhang Tufei happened to pass by and helped chase him off—they got into a bit of a scuffle. Then my brother showed up, thought Zhang Tufei was harassing me, and punched him. Zhang didn’t realize he was my brother, so they started fighting. A teacher saw it and now wants all three parents to come in.”

Yu Xiang’an: “…Are you okay? Was your brother hurt?”

So her daughter was already at the age where boys were pursuing her!

Lin Yining: “I’m fine. Brother’s okay too—just some bruises on his face. But when he showed up, he was so cool!”

Lin Yihong snorted, touching the swelling at the corner of his mouth. He regretted his impulsiveness—seeing them so close had reminded him of the kidnapping incident, and he’d lashed out without thinking.

Yu Xiang’an sighed in relief. “Alright, wait for me tomorrow. I’ll be there on time.”

When Yu Xiang’an arrived at the office, two parents and two students were already there.

One was a man, the other a woman.

Teacher Chen introduced them. “This is Zhang Tufei’s father, this is Huang Hua’s mother, and this is Lin Yihong’s mother.”

Yu Xiang’an immediately apologized to Zhang Tufei’s father. “I’m so sorry. Your son helped my daughter, and my son acted rashly. How is Zhang Tufei doing?”

Zhang Tufei’s father laughed. “No worries, it was just a misunderstanding. Boys should stand up for others—he did what he should.” Zhang Tufei grinned, then winced as the motion tugged at his injuries.

Huang Hua’s mother, however, looked furious. “My son was beaten up like this, and you owe me an explanation! You must’ve framed him on purpose—who knows what you’re plotting!”

Lin Yining frowned. “Who’s framing him? He’s a high schooler—who would target him? We’re in middle school. If he hadn’t approached me, I wouldn’t even know who he was.” The whole situation disgusted her.

Huang Hua’s mother spat, “My son isn’t like that! You little vixen, leading him on at your age! Now that he’s hurt, if you don’t make this right, I won’t let this go!”

Yu Xiang’an smiled. “Mrs. Huang, I’ve already spoken to my daughter. She was at her self-defense class—why was your son there after school?”

Mrs. Huang faltered, then retorted, “Can’t he take a walk there? Who are you to police public spaces? The streets are open to everyone!”

Yu Xiang’an nodded. “So he was just taking a stroll? Huang Hua, is that your story too?”

Huang Hua’s face darkened. “Yeah, I was walking.”

His mother’s voice rose. “Exactly! He was just minding his own business when you smeared him with these lies! Saying he likes this little vixen—what nonsense! She’s the one who doesn’t know her place! You’ll pay his medical bills and compensate for his missed school time!”

Yu Xiang’an’s temper flared at the repeated insults. She pulled out an envelope. “Then what about this letter?”

Lin Yining was furious too but relieved she’d kept the letter as evidence—otherwise, they’d have no way to prove their innocence.

Huang Hua blurted out, “You threw that away!”

His mother glared and pinched him hard.

Way to confess without being pressed!

Yu Xiang’an: “So, Huang Hua, don’t you owe us an apology?”

Mrs. Huang shoved her son. Huang Hua turned away, silent. She smacked him in frustration. “You wretched boy! I must’ve owed you in a past life!” After venting on her son, she turned back to Yu Xiang’an, gritting her teeth. “I misunderstood earlier.”

Yu Xiang’an: “Is that an apology? Who were you calling a ‘vixen’ just now?”

Lin Yining stared her down. She cared about her appearance, but she’d never done anything improper. She’d barely interacted with Huang Hua—just crossed paths a few times. This whole mess was absurd, and she refused to let her reputation be tarnished for no reason.

Huang Hua’s mother watched the scene, thinking that her son still had to attend school here and couldn’t make things too ugly, so she swallowed her words: “I’m the one who’s the fox spirit, it’s me who can’t speak properly. I’m sorry, I spoke out of turn and said the wrong thing. I misunderstood you all. You’re not a fox spirit, and there’s no need to compensate for medical expenses!”

The homeroom teacher cleared his throat: “I’ve already understood the situation. Huang Hua should learn a lesson from this and focus on his studies. Your grades have declined quite a bit since you started high school. Zhang Tufei acted impulsively—though his intentions were good, his rash approach could lead to uncontrollable consequences. Lin Yihong should also learn from this.” Though he addressed all three, his tone when mentioning Zhang Tufei and Lin Yihong was entirely different.

Huang Hua’s mother looked displeased, snorted, pulled her son along, and left the teacher’s office.

Yu Xiang’an treated Zhang Tufei and his father to a meal to thank his son for standing up for justice.

Though Lin Yining had said that if Huang Hua had tried anything inappropriate when asking her out, she could have defended herself—her sanda training wasn’t for nothing—Zhang Tufei, who stepped in the moment Huang Hua started pulling at her, was undoubtedly a good kid.

One tried to stop it, the other insisted, and in the tussle, the two ended up fighting.

Lin Yihong also formally apologized to Zhang Tufei: “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand the situation. I truly apologize. This is a gift I bought with my allowance—I hope you’ll accept it.”

The paper-wrapped box gave no hint of its contents. Zhang Tufei glanced at his father, who nodded, so he took it: “It’s fine.”

After returning home, Yu Xiang’an asked Lin Yining, “You’re really not dating anyone, right?”

Lin Yining sighed, “Of course not.”

Yu Xiang’an: “Good. Mom’s stance remains the same—wait until university.” Then she gave Lin Yihong a thumbs-up. “Even though this was a misunderstanding, keep being a good brother and protecting your sister.”

Lin Yihong flushed slightly and muttered, “She’s my sister—isn’t it only natural I protect her?”

Lin Yining laughed at him, making his face grow even hotter: “What are you looking at? Haven’t you seen me before?”

Lin Yining: “Hahaha, I just think you’ve gotten handsomer, bro.”

Yu Xiang’an was also considering whether having only Zhao Shanhe around was enough—perhaps they needed one more person.

Sometimes their class schedules didn’t align, and if Zhao Shanhe had been with Lin Yining, Zhang Tufei wouldn’t have needed to step in.

Lin Yining objected, “I had class and couldn’t go myself—if I’d been late, I wouldn’t have been able to buy it. That’s why I asked Uncle Zhao to help. Next time, I’ll communicate better with him. Mom, you don’t need to hire someone else.”

Yu Xiang’an shook her head: “This time, I’ll find you an older sister or aunt.”

They still needed one more person.

A sudden clap of thunder boomed, and rain poured down. Yu Xiang’an looked outside—it was a heavy downpour.

Lin Yining gasped at the sight: “Oh no, the laundry’s still out!” She rushed to bring it in.

As she gathered the clothes, she clenched her small fist. If anything really happened, she could take someone down herself. She’d train even harder in sanda—that day wouldn’t be too far off.

Yu Xiang’an settled in Guangzhou. With the heavy rain outside, she found herself unusually relaxed.

Lin Chuanbai had been held back by his advisor in Beijing and would return later, so she slowed her pace here.

She often took the twins out to eat—many new restaurants had opened in Guangzhou. As Lin Yining put it: “Know yourself and know your enemy, and you’ll never be defeated.”

Yu Xiang’an truly believed in learning from others’ strengths.

Some places were affordable, others expensive.

But the well-known ones all had their signature dishes.

She also occasionally checked on the Wuwei Restaurant here, as well as department stores, supply and marketing cooperatives, and private shops to see how popular her factory’s instant noodles, sauces, and snacks were.

She even strolled through factory residential areas.

When Yu Xiang’an told the twins about her early days of buying low and selling high to make money, they were stunned: “Really?”

“Of course. Want to try it yourselves?”

“Yes!”

So on the weekend, they got up early to make steamed buns with Yu Xiang’an.

They set off before dawn and arrived at the residential area just as day broke, with people coming out to buy groceries and breakfast.

It was the twins’ first time selling anything. Watching the crowd, they suddenly found themselves tongue-tied.

Luckily, they had a bamboo basket strapped to their bicycle. When they lifted the lid, revealing the buns, an older woman approached: “How much are your buns? What fillings do you have?”

Yu Xiang’an signaled for them to answer. Lin Yining opened her mouth but couldn’t speak, so Yu Xiang’an took the lead, clearing her throat and answering briskly: “Plain buns are six cents each, two for ten cents. Vegetable buns—mushroom, cabbage, or wood ear—are eight cents each. Meat and sugar buns are twelve cents each.”

The first customer hesitated: “Do you have soy milk?”

Yu Xiang’an: “No soy milk.”

The woman: “Then give me two plain buns, one meat, one sugar, and two cabbage. How much?”

Their first customer was a big spender. Lin Yihong quickly calculated: “Forty-eight cents.”

The woman smiled: “Not bad, young man. How old are you? Still a student?”

Lin Yining wrapped the buns in paper. Others, drawn by the smell, approached: “How much are your buns? Haven’t seen you before—new here?”

This time, Lin Yining spoke smoothly, repeating the prices: “Yes, first time here. Try our buns—they’re delicious. You won’t regret it.”

Some tasted them on the spot and praised them: “Your buns are really good—better than the ones I usually buy. Will you be back tomorrow? I’ll buy from you again.”

“Give me two more mushroom buns—I’ll take them to my granddaughter.”

Lin Yining handed them over while answering: “We’ll be back tomorrow, but not sure about after. This is our first time selling.”

With several factories nearby, the residential area was full of workers’ families—business was brisk. The twins were overwhelmed, one handing out buns, the other collecting money. When it got busy, they struggled to keep up.

But the rush didn’t last. After the peak, things slowed down.

They had made several trays of buns. Some left home early, others late. Their prices were standard for the area, and the aroma drew people in.

Their sales were better than other stalls’. By 8 a.m., only one tray remained.

The twins were drenched in sweat—half from work, half from nerves.

Lin Yihong wiped his brow—he was hungry now.

He grabbed a bun for breakfast.

They’d gotten up too early to eat earlier.

Lin Yining also took a bun and peeked into the money bag—it was full, but all small bills. The total wasn’t much for all that effort.

Making money wasn’t easy.

She turned to say something to her mother but found Yu Xiang’an already chatting with the returning shoppers.

One woman asked, “Are you their older sister or sister-in-law? Where are your parents?”

Yu Xiang’an smiled: “I’m their mother. Doesn’t seem like it, right?”

The woman gasped: “Goodness, you’re so young!”

Yu Xiang’an, pleased: “They’re actually quite young—just tall for their age.” Then she asked, “That’s the pharmaceutical factory nearby, right? Why so few people coming and going? I remember it used to be bustling.”

The woman sighed: “That was then. When it first became independent, everyone praised it. But after a few good years, their medicines stopped selling. A friend of mine works there—while I get extra subsidies, she’s stuck with base pay now.”

Yu Xiang’an feigned surprise: “All those workers living on base pay?”

The woman: “Yes, two or three hundred of them. With prices rising and incomes falling, life’s tough.”

Yu Xiang’an frowned: “What went wrong?”

The woman: “Their medicines don’t sell—piling up in storage. With no production, they don’t need to work, so wages are low. If they kept producing, the backlog would grow, and materials cost money. Many take side jobs to make ends meet—families with several kids really struggle.” Her expression was sympathetic.

At this time, most still saw state jobs as secure. Those forced into private business were pitied—even if they earned well, it wasn’t seen as sustainable.

Yu Xiang’an, chatting with the talkative woman, learned much about the factory.

Her inquiries had a purpose.

She knew the factory was struggling and wanted to see how bad it was.

After all, Lin Chuanbai wanted a pharmaceutical factory—and here was one in trouble.

Perfect, wasn’t it?