Chapter 107:

While Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai were working hard on the farm, the twins were still awake. Lin Yining, holding her rabbit plush pillow, ran into Lin Yihong’s room and tentatively asked her brother, “Brother, do I look pretty with makeup? Like a celebrity? What do you think Mom and Dad would say if I told them I want to be a star?”

Lin Yihong put down his book and glanced at her. “Are you serious?”

Lin Yining: “Answer me first.”

Lin Yihong thought for a moment. “I think Mom and Dad might not react strongly, but Grandpa and Great-Grandpa would definitely oppose it. While every profession can produce outstanding individuals, some paths are harder, especially for women in entertainment. Compared to male stars, female stars face more challenges.” His gaze was calm as he looked at her. “You’re just asking casually, right? I don’t believe you actually want to do it. Think about it—being a female star might seem glamorous, but remember what we saw when we visited a film set? Shooting summer scenes in winter, wearing qipaos with bare legs, pretending not to feel cold. Winter shoots for summer scenes, summer shoots for winter scenes, all-nighters, extreme stunts, endless retakes…” He shook his head.

Lin Yining recalled those forced smiles and shivered.

Lin Yihong knew she’d react this way. “If you want to look beautiful, you could become a musician or a dancer. But if you want to make those your career, it’ll take a lot of effort.”

Lin Yining’s talent in these areas was above average, but compared to truly gifted individuals, she’d have to work much harder to reach the top.

Lin Yining sighed. “So, studying is still easier. Listen to the teacher, review, pay attention—basically, you can memorize the material.”

Lin Yihong: “Studying can’t be a lifelong career. You can’t just study forever.”

Lin Yining sighed again, tugging at the rabbit plush’s ears. “I’ll just keep studying for now. After high school, there’s university. After university, there’s graduate school, then a Ph.D. Being a teacher doesn’t seem too bad—summer and winter breaks, pretty relaxed. If I teach at a university, I wouldn’t even have to supervise students or manage projects.”

Lin Yihong: “Did you forget? If teachers wear makeup, parents might think they’re unreliable.”

Most of their teachers wore little to no makeup. Only the English teacher, who had studied abroad, dressed more fashionably—but even then, she was careful not to wear anything too flashy. Teachers had to maintain a certain image.

Lin Yining: “I guess I can only dress up during my free time. Honestly, being a teacher sounds annoying. I don’t have the patience for kids who can’t communicate. Maybe I’ll keep teaching as a backup option. What about being a doctor, like Great-Grandpa and Auntie?”

“A doctor?”

Lin Yihong raised an eyebrow. “Doctors are so busy they sometimes eat, sleep, and even use the bathroom at the hospital. Overtime, all-nighters—didn’t you say those were the enemies of youth?”

Lin Yining: “Then what about going into business like Mom?”

Lin Yihong: “That’s not impossible, but remember when Mom was struggling with her business? She was so stressed she spent all her time cooking in the kitchen to cope. The pressure in that field is intense. And while Mom makes a lot of money, society doesn’t hold businesspeople in high regard. Even now, some people think it’s a shame she quit her stable job. Mom’s business is successful partly because she’s talented, but also because Grandpa’s status offers some protection. Not in a corrupt way, but it deters greedy people from targeting her as a cash cow. Look at Hong Kong—rich people live well, but they still have to be cautious.”

Lin Yining twisted the rabbit’s ears. “Then what about Dad’s job? He’s a researcher, respected by everyone. If I pick less demanding projects, I wouldn’t be too busy.”

Lin Yihong: “If you take it easy, you won’t achieve anything. No achievements mean no status, and without status, how do you earn respect? At best, you’d only impress people who don’t know better.”

Lin Yining groaned. “Brother, why are you always pouring cold water on my ideas? It’s so hard!”

She was feeling anxious. Many of her classmates aimed for vocational schools. During breaks, when they discussed the future, the twins—who were set on high school and university—felt a bit lost too.

“Brother, have you decided yet? If you have, give me some ideas.”

Lin Yihong shook his head. “No rush. We can decide in high school. I haven’t made up my mind either. But your attitude isn’t great—no job is easy. If you don’t put in effort, you won’t get results. I’m just pointing out the challenges. Are you only focusing on the negatives?”

It was a simple truth, and Lin Yining knew it. She pouted. “I’m just talking. I’m not clueless.”

Deep down, she understood, but she still didn’t know what she wanted to do. Suddenly, she stood up. “I’m thirsty. I’m getting juice. Do you want some?”

Lin Yihong: “Bring me a glass too.”

Lin Yining went to the kitchen fridge, glanced at their parents’ dark bedroom—they were already asleep—then returned with the juice. “Brother, what are you reading? Any good book recommendations? I’ve run out of things to read…”

Lin Yihong: “A book on computers. Want to read it?”

Lin Yining: “Sure. Speaking of which, is computer science a career too?”

…

Meanwhile, Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai, who the twins thought were asleep, were still on the farm. Lin Chuanbai was in the processing room adjusting formulas. After finishing, he came out to enjoy grilled fish as a late-night snack.

Yu Xiang’an had just finished harvesting livestock in the pasture and, with nothing else to do, was making chestnut cakes.

Lin Chuanbai emerged just as the first batch came out of the oven, happily digging in.

Since it was late, neither ate much—just a couple of pieces each.

Yu Xiang’an: “How long until we get results?”

Lin Chuanbai stretched. “About eight and a half hours.”

Yu Xiang’an: “Then by the time we wake up and have breakfast tomorrow, it should be ready.”

Lin Chuanbai nodded. “It’s still early. What should we do now?” He glanced at the grapevines. “These grapes are ripe. Should we store them, make wine, or dry them?”

Yu Xiang’an: “We already have plenty of raisins in storage.”

Sometimes, looking at all their stockpiled goods, she wondered—if they suddenly ended up in another world, like a post-apocalyptic one, they’d at least survive the initial chaos.

Their usual grape processing methods were raisins or wine. They already had plenty of wine, most of which they gave as gifts since their family didn’t drink much.

The homemade wine was good quality, and gifting it showed thoughtfulness.

Looking at the row of wine jars, Lin Chuanbai crouched down. “Should we start making health supplements?”

Health supplements weren’t the same as medicine but had a huge market, spanning high, mid, and low tiers. They planned to make high-end ginseng tonic wine.

They’d previously gifted ginseng wine to elderly relatives, who drank a small cup before bed with noticeable benefits—so much so that Lin Houpu requested extra jars every year to give to friends.

That spoke volumes.

The health supplement market was booming. At one point, there was even a bizarrely popular “chicken blood therapy,” where blood from young roosters was injected into people.

It became a craze among retired officials.

Those injected would turn red-faced and hyperactive, mistaking it for a healing effect.

But animals have blood types too, and incompatible transfusions could be fatal. Plus, chicken blood might carry viruses.

Survivors were just lucky.

Their supplements, however, had real ingredients. They weren’t aiming for mass production—once word spread, sales wouldn’t be an issue.

But there was one problem: “We can’t keep taking ginseng from the herb garden.”

Lin Chuanbai nodded. “I know. I’ve talked to two families who’ve been ginseng gatherers for generations. I’ll visit them soon.”

Yu Xiang’an: “Do you have suppliers lined up for the pharmaceutical factory?”

Her connections in the medicinal herb field were limited—most of her stock was for soups and health dishes.

Lin Chuanbai: “Changyao has existing supplier ties, and I’ve built relationships with a few through the research institute. Don’t worry.”

“Good.”

After leaving, Yu Xiang’an checked Lin Chuanbai’s herb garden, counting the ginseng plants. Taking a deep breath, the air smelled like money.

*

Yu Mingyao’s makeup skills had improved thanks to her aunt’s guidance. She could now apply simple, natural makeup with ease. Once she got the hang of it, progress came quickly—practice made perfect, and what once took forever now took minutes.

Finally gathering courage, she wore makeup to school for the first time.

When she returned to the dorm, Yi Zhuzhu saw her and sneered. “Oh, so you’ve finally learned a little? Even just the basics make you look more alive. You should thank me for enlightening you.”

Yu Mingyao’s joy evaporated under the sarcasm.

This was her least favorite roommate.

When Yu Mingyao stayed silent, Yi Zhuzhu lifted her chin. “Tomorrow, I’m going dancing with friends. Dare to come? Don’t think just because you can slap on some makeup, you’re suddenly impressive. You’ve never even been to a dance hall, have you? Look at what you’re wearing—so outdated. If you go, they might kick you out. What’s the point of just fixing your face?”

Yu Mingyao scoffed. She was wearing jeans and a white blouse—basic but fine.

As if Yi Zhuzhu had never dressed like that. Forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace, she said, “Your parents must not know the saying, ‘A child’s faults reflect the parents.’ Did they never teach you how to talk to people?”

As for dance halls, she really hadn’t been. Her parents were strict, calling them disreputable places and threatening to break her legs if she went.

Yu Mingyao doubted they’d actually do it, but they’d definitely make her regret it.

Yi Zhuzhu snorted. “Of course my parents taught me manners. But they also taught me honesty. I just say what I think—and I’m not wrong. You’re a bumpkin who’s never even been to a dance hall. You’re outdated.”

Yu Mingyao’s temper flared. “Who says I haven’t been?”

Yi Zhuzhu: “Then dare to come with me tomorrow?”

Yu Mingyao hesitated, glancing at their other two roommates. “All four of us?”

The other two hadn’t been either, but they avoided taking sides in Yu Mingyao and Yi Zhuzhu’s fights. Now dragged into it, they wavered.

Among the four, Yi Zhuzhu was the richest—wearing a thousand-yuan watch, a thousand-yuan necklace, head-to-toe brand names worth thousands total. With her temper, no one dared cross her. Only Yu Mingyao stood up to her.

A dance hall? They wanted to go, but what about the cost?

Seeing their interest, Yi Zhuzhu smirked. “If you want to come, I’ll cover your expenses. Well? Too scared?”

With that offer, the other two agreed. Yu Mingyao, who’d hoped they’d refuse, was now cornered. Gritting her teeth, she said, “Fine, let’s go!”

Yi Zhuzhu “kindly” reminded them, “Do you even have suitable clothes? Please tell me you own at least one dress. If not, I don’t want to be seen with you. Hmm… I have a few barely worn outfits in my closet. Want to borrow them? Don’t worry—no charge.”

Yu Mingyao nearly exploded. How could someone be so infuriating!

Her family’s money didn’t make her better than anyone. Yu Mingyao’s family wasn’t poor either—her aunt’s family was probably wealthier than Yi Zhuzhu’s, yet they lived modestly and were kind.

It wasn’t about money—it was about character. Always putting others down to lift herself up was just disgusting.

Yu Mingyao went home and dug out a dress her aunt had given her—a light blue one that felt luxurious to the touch, a gift for getting into university. She’d only worn it once before carefully storing it away.

With matching blue low heels and a delicate handbag, the outfit transformed her.

Touching the dress, she worried about damaging it but refused to let Yi Zhuzhu look down on her. She brought the ensemble back to school, determined not to be outdone.

When it was time to leave, she went to change and came out. The other three in the dormitory were stunned by her outfit paired with her fresh makeup.

Yi Zhuzhu’s face turned green with envy, her lips tightly pressed together, not uttering a word.

The other two roommates, however, showered her with praise. “Mingyao, that dress looks amazing on you!”

“Where did you buy it? How much was it?”

“I’ve never seen you wear it before. It’s so beautiful—like something a fairy would wear, yet so elegant.”

“You look like a wealthy heiress.”

Yu Mingyao smiled. “I don’t know the price. My aunt gave it to me. I’ve only worn it once before. I’m so afraid of accidentally ruining it—it would break my heart.”

Yi Zhuzhu rolled her eyes. “It must be some cheap knockoff from a street stall.”

Yu Mingyao: “How would you know? Have you bought from street stalls before?”

Yi Zhuzhu: “Then tell us what brand it is.”

Yu Mingyao: “What does the brand matter? It looks good, and that’s all that counts.”

The dress had no label—it had been custom-made by her aunt based on her measurements. It definitely wasn’t cheap.

Everyone changed into their best outfits and headed to the dance hall. Besides their dormitory of four, other male classmates—all acquaintances of Yi Zhuzhu—joined them.

On the way, Yi Zhuzhu could barely maintain her smile. Half of the men who used to hover around her had now turned their attention to Yu Mingyao.

How could she possibly be happy about that?

So what if she wore a pretty dress? Underneath, she was still the same country bumpkin!

Yu Mingyao’s first trip to a dance hall ended in disaster.

Hot-blooded young men got into a fight, someone called the police, and they had to wait for someone to pick them up.

At that time, Yu Xianghai and Ye Qijia weren’t in Yangcheng, which Yu Mingyao was secretly relieved about.

The police said they needed someone to claim them. Even though the girls hadn’t been involved in the trouble, they still needed a lecture.

Yu Mingyao froze. If she told her eldest brother, he would definitely inform their parents, and she’d get scolded. After much deliberation, she called her uncle-in-law.

Lin Chuanbai answered the call and immediately went to pick her up.

This was certainly a new experience for him.

Arriving at the police station, he saw the fresh-faced young girl who stood out in the crowd. It wasn’t surprising that tempers had flared in such an environment.

“Hello, officer. I’m here to pick someone up. Could you tell me what happened?”

The reason was simple. Yu Mingyao was a stunning beauty, and Yi Zhuzhu wasn’t bad either. The moment they entered, many men took notice and wanted to dance with them, trying to push aside the male classmates accompanying them. Naturally, the boys weren’t willing—these were their schoolmates, and they weren’t about to let outsiders take advantage. Pushing and shoving escalated into a full-blown fight.

Fortunately, the fight didn’t involve the girls. Yu Mingyao and the others were unharmed.

Apart from Yu Mingyao, none of the other three had relatives nearby, so Lin Chuanbai took them all. “Should I drop your classmates off at school?”

Yu Mingyao hesitated. “No, the dormitory gates are locked by now. We can’t get in.”

There was a curfew. Once the doors were locked, the dorm supervisor wouldn’t open them unless it was an emergency. Given their current situation, going back wasn’t an option.

Yi Zhuzhu glanced at Lin Chuanbai, bit her lip, and turned to Yu Mingyao with an uncharacteristically soft tone. “Mingyao, could we stay at your place for the night? It’s too late, and it’s not safe for us to be outside.”

The other two roommates also looked at her pleadingly. Yu Mingyao didn’t like Yi Zhuzhu, but she got along fine with the other two—they attended classes and ate together.

“Alright, you can stay at my place tonight.” She couldn’t single Yi Zhuzhu out. If anything happened to them at this hour, she’d never forgive herself.

Lin Chuanbai drove in silence, listening to their conversation, and took them back to the residential complex.

When they entered the neighborhood, Yi Zhuzhu was shocked. Yu Mingyao actually lived here? Her family definitely wasn’t poor. Her father had once mentioned buying an apartment here for her to attend school, but the deal fell through due to some issues.

She knew how expensive the properties here were.

Moreover, Yi Zhuzhu was curious about Lin Chuanbai’s relationship with Yu Mingyao. A man like him was undeniably attractive—tall, mature, steady, and handsome, far surpassing the boys their age.

When they got out of the car, she couldn’t help but pull Yu Mingyao aside. “Is he your brother?”

Yu Mingyao’s cheek twitched. “That’s my uncle-in-law. I know he looks young, but my cousins aren’t much younger than me.”

Uncle-in-law!

Yi Zhuzhu’s face paled. That meant he was already married. Her expression instantly cooled. Why was it that every man she fancied was already taken? First that one, and now this one!

Yu Mingyao was used to Yi Zhuzhu’s mood swings and rolled her eyes. “Wait here for a moment. I need to talk to my uncle-in-law.”

She climbed back into the car. “Uncle-in-law, could you not tell my parents about this? I promise I’ll never go again.”

She wasn’t lying—this experience had traumatized her. She had been terrified when those strangers surrounded her, fearing what they might do.

Lin Chuanbai studied her and saw she was sincere. “No lies?”

Yu Mingyao raised her fingers. “Absolutely not.”

Only then did he nod. “Then I won’t tell them. But don’t let it happen again.”

Yu Mingyao exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Uncle-in-law. It’s late—you should rest.”

When Yu Xiang’an heard the story from Lin Chuanbai, she couldn’t help but laugh. Poor kid—her first time at a dance hall, and she was already traumatized.

It was honestly a bit pitiful.

Lin Chuanbai shook his head. “Even at proper dance halls, things like this can happen. If someone attractive goes, they might regret it before they even realize what’s happening.”

There was nothing wrong with dancing, but such environments were prone to accidents.

After that, Yu Mingyao never went to a dance hall again. And after seeing Yu Mingyao’s home, Yi Zhuzhu stopped openly mocking her as a country bumpkin.

Yu Mingyao found it ridiculous, but she was glad to have fewer conflicts in her daily life.

…

Changyao Pharmaceutical Factory was finally acquired. Yu Xiang’an had to spend a considerable sum—not just for the factory itself, but also to buy out the workers’ seniority benefits, compensate the permanent employees, and settle the debts.

Sixty percent of the management had left, leaving behind those who were diligent and hardworking. Such people were always welcome, but those who only sought personal gain were not.

The remaining inventory was sold off at a loss or given away.

It was a financial hit, but letting the products expire would have been worse. These outdated medicines would no longer be produced.

Lin Chuanbai officially resigned from the university and brought along some willing colleagues to join Changyao Pharmaceutical, forming a research and development department.

Compared to the university, he offered salaries at least double the original, with additional incentives. For every successful drug developed, the team leader would receive 1% of the net profits for five consecutive years.

If a best-selling drug was created, becoming a millionaire would be effortless.

Lin Chuanbai didn’t immediately introduce the drugs he had previously developed—that would have raised suspicions. Even though his university lab records documented his experiments, unveiling them right away would make it seem like he had exploited university resources for personal gain.

Instead, he meticulously recreated one of his past successes step by step under everyone’s watchful eyes.

Knowing how to avoid pitfalls, he made the process appear miraculously smooth. In no time, the drug was completed, submitted for approval, and fast-tracked thanks to his connections. After approval, it moved on to animal testing.

It was a children’s fever-reducing patch.

Motivated by financial rewards, others in the team soon produced their own results while the fever patch underwent testing.

With everyone making progress, Lin Chuanbai introduced a second drug…

Meanwhile, the factory workers weren’t idle. While drug production hadn’t started, health supplements were already rolling out.

The approval process for supplements was simpler than for drugs.

Once the supplements hit the market, they sold out instantly.

Yu Xiang’an, after reviewing the inventory, had splurged on a full-page advertisement in Yangcheng’s largest newspaper, costing hundreds of thousands.

Within two months, the ad costs were recouped.

By then, the initial stock was nearly depleted, and the supplements became scarce, requiring advance reservations.

When the first batch of users shared their positive feedback, a black market emerged—some resold their reservations at inflated prices.