Chapter 109:

Yu Xiang’an mentioned cicada flowers, and for a moment, no one could recall what they were. It was Chen Xiaoyang who first realized—they were the special cicada shells that emerged from their bamboo forest.

“Yes! We have those.” It seemed to be a medicinal ingredient, Chen Xiaoyang thought uncertainly.

Cicada flowers had significant benefits—they could lower blood lipids and blood pressure, nourish the liver, improve eyesight, and even had anti-tumor properties. They were a medicinal material comparable to cordyceps.

Chen Xiaoyang: “!!!” So they had such a treasure right here!

Yu Xiang’an took in the undulating waves of the bamboo sea, then randomly picked a few bamboo shoots to dig up. She went to Chen Xiaoyang’s home to cook them, and after tasting them, she placed an order.

Once everything was prepared, a phone call would bring representatives from their factory to purchase the bamboo shoots, effectively selling off the produce from their bamboo forest.

The process went smoothly, without any complications.

The villagers were overjoyed.

With this income, their village could finally build a school and repair the roads.

It was a tremendous blessing.

They signed a formal contract right in Chen Xiaoyang’s home. Chen Xiaoyang was excited throughout the entire process. Even her mother, who had previously scolded her relentlessly, could only smile now, seeing her daughter surrounded by so many village officials.

Her mother felt nothing but pride. From now on, their family would be held in higher regard by the villagers—after all, it was her daughter who had facilitated this deal. With the money, their muddy dirt road could finally be paved, the leaky school walls repaired, and the broken desks and chairs fixed.

Chen Xiaoyang felt elated. Seeing her mother’s satisfied gaze, she sighed in relief. At least now, her mother wouldn’t be so insistent on marrying her off immediately. She was on the verge of a promotion, a raise, and the peak of her career—she had no interest in marriage right now.

Sure enough, not long after Chen Xiaoyang returned, her transfer notice arrived. She had been promoted.

After her promotion, her mother quieted down, no longer pressuring her to find a partner. Now, she was busy digging bamboo shoots with everyone else, making money together.

The village decided to distribute part of the bamboo shoot earnings among the villagers and use the rest for road and school repairs.

They also began to take better care of the bamboo forest, even transplanting some to barren hills. In a few years, a new bamboo forest would grow there.

“Live off the mountain if you’re near it, live off the sea if you’re by it.” Their village had no grand mountains or vast seas, only this bamboo-covered hill.

In the past, during difficult times, this bamboo forest had kept them alive. Now that they were well-fed and clothed, it was helping them earn money. They had to cherish it—they couldn’t recklessly exploit it. If they managed it well, future generations would continue to benefit from it.

*

Lin Chuanbai gradually replicated some of his previously researched medicines in reality. The variety of drugs they submitted for approval had already attracted attention, earning praise for their high yield.

These weren’t medicines for rare or severe illnesses, but they were indispensable in daily life—cold and cough remedies, fever reducers, treatments for common infant ailments, and more. Beyond oral medications, there were also products like essential balm, burn ointment, mosquito repellent, and floral water.

Lin Chuanbai’s goal was for their medicines to become household staples, found in every family’s first-aid kit.

His fellow researchers—seniors and juniors alike—were also satisfied. Since coming to Changyao, not only had their treatment improved, but they were also thrilled with the lab equipment.

Previously, they had to share equipment on a rotating schedule, yielding to senior researchers when necessary. Now, scheduling was based on need—whoever applied first got priority, with no interference. Moreover, new instruments were constantly being added. If this continued, their research department might even surpass the combined equipment of all their university labs—though limited to pharmaceuticals, it was still a cause for celebration.

These tools were as vital to them as knives to a chef.

Though drug approvals and trials took time, these efforts would secure their place in the industry.

Yu Xiang’an’s ventures spanned many industries, but her most widespread products were her seasoning packets.

The Gao Yaping family had been in the Philippines for over twenty years. When they first arrived, they struggled, with little money to their name. Now, they ran a small restaurant in the local Chinatown, serving familiar Chinese dishes. Their fusion meals—like curry rice—also appealed to the locals.

Chinese customers came for a taste of home, while locals enjoyed the foreign flavors with a local twist.

Their positioning was precise, and they stuck to it.

The chef was Gao Yaping’s mother. Her cooking had been average before, but after trying Wuwei’s seasoning packets, her skills improved dramatically.

No longer needing to fuss over seasoning, she simply added salt and water in the right proportions. Even Gao Yaping could manage it.

For example, a large pack of hotpot base could be used to cook chicken legs and wings, with some vegetables added. Served over rice, it became a signature dish.

Their family often ate this way too.

Before opening the restaurant, they had done hard labor—carrying loads, sweeping streets—whatever others refused to do. Without work, they had no money, and without money, they couldn’t survive.

After the restaurant opened, they gradually quit those jobs, focusing solely on the business.

Here, foreign products weren’t widespread. Before the market opened up, they could maintain this advantage, making life a little easier.

Locals didn’t understand these products, nor did they have access to the same ingredients. Even if they discovered the source of the restaurant’s broths and sauces, they’d likely be too lazy to buy or make them themselves. This business could last.

It was a livelihood, and they kept a close eye on the brand.

Whenever new products launched, they’d buy them immediately, testing if they could create new dishes.

This time, Gao Yaping returned from the market with a large pack of sour-spicy rice noodles and a new sour bamboo shoot packet. The latter had been a hit since its release, drawing many customers to their restaurant just for the sour bamboo shoots—boosting sales significantly.

…

Since the pharmaceutical factory was in Yangcheng, Lin Chuanbai occasionally brought the twins along, exposing them to the environment.

This field required familiarity with many things.

He didn’t let them do anything that would interfere with their studies—just letting them do homework, make friends, or observe others at work was enough.

Soon, Lin Yining found a little friend there.

Ye Jingjing was the daughter of a researcher. Her mother had passed away, and she lived with her father in the factory’s dormitory. She was two years younger than Lin Yining.

Lin Yining had many friends, but her closest were two boys—Fatty Chen Yi and Wang Lipan.

It wasn’t that she only befriended good-looking people—Wang Lipan was handsome, but Fatty Chen Yi was average.

She wasn’t without female friends either—she got along with her classmates—but she lacked a truly close sisterly bond. As she put it, there was always something missing, making it less comfortable, so she didn’t force it.

But this little sister was different. With her round, apple-like face, shy demeanor, and tendency to blush—especially when eating—she reminded Lin Yining of a hamster. Watching her, Lin Yining felt an overwhelming urge to feed her.

From then on, she always brought snacks in her bag—beef jerky, biscuits, shredded squid, flower cakes, candy…

Watching her eat brought immense satisfaction.

Ye Jingjing’s father was careless, assuming his daughter was old enough to take care of herself. He left her mostly unsupervised, spending most of his time in the lab.

She ate at the canteen when hungry and took money from home for anything else—essentially left to her own devices. After getting to know her, Lin Yining felt heartbroken.

Since they attended the same school—though in different grades—their schedules aligned. Lin Yining often sought her out to play together.

At school, Ye Jingjing was an inconspicuous child, remembered only for her decent grades. Without that, she might have been entirely overlooked.

During a meal, Lin Yining brought it up to Lin Chuanbai.

“Dad, isn’t this exploitation? Jingjing’s dad doesn’t even take care of her. Yesterday was her birthday, and she spent it alone—cold and quiet. Her dad didn’t come home at all. She waited in the living room until she fell asleep on the sofa.”

Lin Chuanbai frowned at her “complaint.”

“Alright, I’ll look into it.”

He wasn’t familiar with every researcher’s situation. Upon inquiry, he learned that Ye Jingjing’s father was an experiment fanatic—the type who hated leaving the lab once inside.

Further investigation revealed this wasn’t uncommon. However, most researchers had other family members to care for their children. Lin Chuanbai created a new role—someone to remind these workaholics to eat, sleep, and take breaks.

Good health was the foundation of further research.

Lin Yihong, upon hearing about this, felt his sister had missed the point.

“The issue isn’t just overwork. It’s that her dad neglects his family. Dad hired them to work hard—that’s good. But he’s crossed the line between work and family, ignoring his responsibilities. Someone should talk to him, make him realize the problem.”

Lin Yining sighed.

“I know, but talking to him didn’t help. That’s why I thought Dad could step in and maybe improve things.”

She had tried speaking to Ye Jingjing’s father.

But she doubted he’d listened.

Frustrating.

Lin Chuanbai’s intervention did help.

Ye Jingjing’s father felt ashamed, realizing how much he’d neglected his child. But when inspiration struck, he couldn’t tear himself away from the lab. Now, with reminders in place, the situation improved. Health was the foundation of revolution.

To ensure decades of successful research, they had to take care of their bodies.

…

Yu Mingyao was upset. After the dance hall incident, she had taken her three roommates to her home for a night. Since then, Yi Zhuzhu’s attitude toward her had softened, but a new rumor had emerged—that she was being kept by a wealthy man, since Lin Chuanbai had arrived in a car.

Her roommates knew he was her uncle, but others didn’t. The rumor spread, with people claiming she was the mistress of some rich tycoon.

Yu Mingyao was furious, but when she tried to correct the rumors, no one listened. Perhaps they knew how absurd it was, but they enjoyed the gossip anyway.

Fortunately, they didn’t name names, so as the story spread, it became about some fictional character. Yu Mingyao had no choice but to let it go, though it still rankled.

Beyond the rumors, word had also spread that she had wealthy relatives.

She had joined the student council, and when they sought sponsors for events, some turned to her.

“Mingyao, even though you’re not in our department, we’re really short on funds. Could you help? Your relatives are in business—they must have money to spare.”

Yu Mingyao wasn’t in the external relations department, and she refused—they weren’t close. But the requests kept coming, second, third times…

It was exhausting.

Yi Zhuzhu rolled her eyes.

“Don’t think of it as bleeding your relatives dry. This is also publicity—increasing their brand awareness. Don’t you know companies pay for ads? And if they ever recruit from our school, having a good reputation will attract more talent. You should ask them first. So short-sighted, so petty.”

Yu Mingyao’s face darkened. The first part almost made sense, but the latter was pure venom. Why couldn’t she just speak nicely?

Without the insults, it might have been well-intentioned advice. But with them, any goodwill was obliterated. Harsh words wounded even in summer’s heat!

Yu Mingyao stormed off, pacing outside twice before calming down. She returned to thank Yi Zhuzhu.

“I thought about what you said. You’re right—I’ll talk to my uncle.”

Yi Zhuzhu snorted.

“I wasn’t trying to help you. I just couldn’t stand how stupid you were being.”

Yu Mingyao: “…”

Taking a deep breath, she refused to let herself get angry!

After listening to Yu Mingyao recount the situation, Lin Chuanbai nodded. “Sponsorship, huh? Do you have an idea of how much it might cost? Give me a rough estimate.”

Then he instructed Lin Yihong, “Go write a note detailing the whole situation.”

Seeing Lin Chuanbai agree so readily, Yu Mingyao sought confirmation. “Uncle, does this kind of sponsorship also come with benefits, like boosting visibility and such?”

Lin Chuanbai smiled and nodded. “Of course. For example, if we use the name ‘Five Flavors Restaurant,’ we can provide banners or slogans. Your classmates will see the name, and those who haven’t been there might want to try it. Those who have been but forgot about it might feel a sense of pride—’I discovered this gem!’ Others who recognize it and frequent the place might feel validated in their good taste. It’s all about raising awareness and driving business.”

Yu Mingyao had initially refused because she thought it was a waste of money, like throwing cash into the water. But now, hearing his explanation, she realized she’d misunderstood—it actually benefited them.

Lin Chuanbai elaborated, “It also depends on the amount and scale. If there’s a large crowd, higher sponsorship might be worth it to reach more people. But if the sponsorship is high and the foot traffic is low, attracting fewer eyes, then it’s a losing venture.”

Yu Mingyao felt like she’d gained new knowledge, and Lin Yihong and Lin Yining listened with keen interest.

Lin Chuanbai gave them some economics books to read slowly, emphasizing that studies came first. In their free time, broadening their horizons was important—learning more never hurt. If they could read seriously, understand the material, and draw insights, then they’d be well on their way.

When Yu Xiang’an returned to Guangzhou, Lin Yining brought her new friend along. “Mom, this is my new best friend. Isn’t she super cute?”

Ye Jingjing shyly lowered her head before lifting it to meet Yu Xiang’an’s gaze. Her voice was soft but clear. “Hello, Auntie.”

Yu Xiang’an smiled. “Hello, Jingjing, right? I hope you two get along well.” Such an introverted, shy, and adorable girl easily won her favor.

After asking about her preferences, Yu Xiang’an made sure to prepare plenty of her favorite dishes.

Ye Jingjing lacked a female role model in her life—her world consisted mostly of her father and teachers. Her dad was often careless, leaving her to take care of herself most of the time.

Receiving Yu Xiang’an’s warmth visibly delighted her; her cheeks flushed pink with happiness.

Lin Yining couldn’t help but reflect—had she taken too much for granted? Comparing herself to Jingjing, the feeling grew stronger.

Interacting with others, whether passively or actively, often reveals overlooked aspects of oneself. As the saying goes, “When three walk together, one can be my teacher.”

This reflection was also a form of learning.

After Ye Jingjing left, Lin Yining sat beside Yu Xiang’an, clinging to her arm. “Mom, you haven’t visited in a while. What have you been busy with?”

Yu Xiang’an ruffled her hair. “I’ve been scouting a new location for the factory—planning to relocate.”

Lin Yining was surprised. “Why? Isn’t the current place big enough?”

Yu Xiang’an: “It’s not about size. That land can serve a greater purpose later. Factories don’t need to be in bustling areas. After moving, we can build a plaza, a hotel, a food court, office buildings—anything.”

If the new factory site later became developed, she could relocate again. Each move would signify a correct decision. If the land held no value, she wouldn’t bother.

Besides the factory, Yu Xiang’an was also constructing new office buildings.

Knowing how much property prices would skyrocket in the future, not buying or building more now would be a waste—especially office spaces in the heart of the special economic zone.

Even if left unrented, a single floor could easily fetch hundreds of thousands or even millions in monthly rent later.

Lin Yining gasped. “Oh! So, have you decided how the new factory will be built?”

Yu Xiang’an: “Not yet. I plan to consult professionals.” She intended to hire a planner to optimize the layout.

During the early days, just getting the factory up and running was enough—no need for elaborate planning. Now, she noticed inefficiencies and redundancies wasting space. With time and resources, she wanted a proper redesign.

Yu Xiang’an already had an idea. She turned to Lin Chuanbai. “I want to return to the university and have the School of Architecture host a design competition. I’ll provide the land area, and students can freely design. Professors will judge which layout is most efficient and aesthetically pleasing.”

This way, she’d get the blueprints, students would gain exposure and prize money, and the school would enhance its reputation.

Lin Chuanbai nodded. “That shouldn’t be a problem.” The school wouldn’t refuse.

Indeed, after securing the land, Yu Xiang’an returned to the capital and Qingmu University. Upon proposing the idea, the school eagerly pressed for details.

Yu Xiang’an was quite well-known there. Among alumni who’d ventured into business, her success was unmatched. The previous year, she’d donated a large collection of books to the library, including many foreign titles not yet available there.

This had earned her goodwill from the school.

Moreover, this was a win-win-win situation.

After discussions, it was decided that third- and fourth-year students could participate. Renowned professors would judge, with prizes of 10,000 yuan for first place, 5,000 for second, and 1,000 for third.

Though wages had risen—now often over 100 yuan—10,000 yuan remained a fortune.

As for whether student designs might have flaws, the judges would ensure quality. Besides, students typically consulted professors, so impractical designs were unlikely.

Yu Xiang’an ultimately needed a functional blueprint—no matter how beautiful, unusable designs were pointless.

After submitting the site details, the competition began. Posters went up, and professors mentioned it in class. The response was overwhelming—far more entries than expected.

Preliminary screenings eliminated many.

Even second-years protested—why couldn’t they join? They wanted a shot too.

Their foundational skills weren’t as solid as their seniors’, so Yu Xiang’an could only promise future opportunities. This wasn’t the only competition.

This wasn’t a small move. Liu Mingyue heard about it and brought homemade water chestnut cakes to chat. “This is quite the grand gesture. If you’ve got money to spare, I’d be happy to help.”

Yu Xiang’an skewered a piece with a bamboo stick. “There’s a purpose—like ‘buying bones with gold.’ I want juniors to know me as generous, so they might consider working for me.”

Liu Mingyue laughed. “How’s the taste? This is my best batch yet. And of course there’s another reason—you’ll get what you want. Job assignments aren’t as good as before; more juniors are choosing private firms.” After all, with limited positions and no quick retirements, fewer good spots were left.

Private companies lacked the security of state jobs but offered better pay and flexibility. For the ambitious, it was a viable path. Liu Mingyue lacked the courage to dive back in but admired those who did.

“Who’d have thought you’d achieve so much when you resigned? Remember how everyone tried to talk you out of it? Now, no one says it’s a pity. Last year’s book donation had everyone praising you.”

As reforms deepened and policies stayed steady, biases against business faded. Money’s importance grew—some even saw wealth as supreme, valuing riches over morals.

“Besides the competition, anything else bringing you back this time?”