Chapter 167: Visited Two Homes in One Day—Ate, Drank, and Took Gifts (Part 2)

This lunch, deliberately guided by Xia Baichuan and Cai Xuan, ended with both hosts and guests thoroughly pleased.

In conversation, both sides gained deeper understanding of each other.

Qin Yun now understood why the Xia family was so wealthy—they were in real industry, specifically energy-related, so of course they were rich. Their company was listed on both the A-share and HK markets, with a market cap that made one's head spin.

Yet such a wealthy family raised Xia Xiaoxing so frugally—it spoke of strict family discipline.

Upon learning Qin Yun was divorced, Xia Baichuan's guard rose even higher; he didn't look down on remarried men, but the belief that his daughter deserved only the best was deeply rooted. Worse still, Qin Yun was five or six years younger than Xia Xiaoxing—clearly unsuitable.

At the table, watching his daughter foolishly serve Qin Yun food, Old Xia resolved to be unyielding from now on—he would stand firmly with his wife and not let Xia Xiaoxing leave Shanghai anytime soon; she must return to work and stay there.

Xia Xiaoxing suddenly felt a chill and involuntarily shivered.

"Little Qin, sit tight for a moment—I'll go with your uncle to fetch the gift we prepared for you."

Cai Xuan rose, pulling Xia Baichuan along, smiling.

Qin Yun hurried to say: "Uncle, Auntie, you really don't need to be so formal."

"Yes, we do," Cai Xuan turned to her son and daughter. "Xia Xia Xiaochuan, Xia Xiaoxing, keep Little Qin company."

Then she and Xia Baichuan left the living room.

Once they were gone, Xia Xiaoxing exhaled in relief. "Brother, Brother Qin, didn't you notice Dad's demeanor seemed off?"

Xia Xia Xiaochuan looked baffled. "Off? I didn't notice anything."

Qin Yun also shook his head.

"Really not?" Xia Xiaoxing's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I keep feeling Dad's gaze at Brother Qin was strange."

Xia Xia Xiaochuan chuckled. "Maybe he's taken with Brother Qin and wants to make him his son-in-law."

Xia Xiaoxing's face flushed crimson. She glanced cautiously at Qin Yun—seeing no reaction—then glared at Xia Xia Xiaochuan. "You've got a mouth that spits out nothing but nonsense."

Though she had a soft spot for Qin Yun, it was merely the admiration a girl feels toward someone strong—she could never possibly think so far ahead after just three meetings.

Meanwhile, Xia Baichuan and Cai Xuan went upstairs.

"What should we give him?" Cai Xuan fretted. "He gave us gifts worth over a million—we looked stingy in comparison."

Xia Baichuan thought a moment. "What about that house in Pudong? It was given to me by Old Yang."

"The Pudong house? Tangchen Yipin or Haijing No. 1?"

"Neither," Xia Baichuan sighed. Those houses each cost over a hundred million—he wasn't that reckless. "I mean the Lín Gǎng Xīnchéng area—there's a neighborhood called Jiuli Shuxiang. There's a 130-square-meter unit there. Let's just give it to Little Qin."

Cai Xuan frowned. "We have a house like that?"

"I already said it was given to me by Old Yang."

"Fine, then," Cai Xuan had no objection. "How much is it worth? Over fifty thousand?"

"Around thirty thousand now."

Cai Xuan gasped. "That far out?"

Thirty thousand per square meter in Shanghai? That had to be in some remote wasteland.

"Qin Yun doesn't live in Shanghai and doesn't need to commute—it's perfect for the suburbs. At least next time he comes to Shanghai, he'll have a place to stay instead of paying for a hotel."

"Alright, then. Have Xia Xiaoxing ask Qin Yun for his ID and arrange the transfer at the housing bureau."

…

At four in the afternoon, Qin Yun left Xia Xiaoxing's home, dazed, clutching a red booklet and a set of keys.

Only when he got into his Land Rover did he shake his head, half-amused, half-exasperated.

No wonder they were nobility—just like that, they gifted nearly four million, and only told him after putting it in his name.

Xia Xiaoxing stared enviously at the red booklet in Qin Yun's hand—she'd long wanted her own place outside the family home, but her parents flatly refused.

"Brother Qin, Weiwei's place is at Yuewan No. 5—just navigate there directly."

Qin Yun stuffed the items into his backpack and nodded. "Thanks for the hospitality. Please thank your parents again for me—I feel unworthy."

"Hehe, it's nothing. My dad's loaded—I even think he's stingy. If they'd asked me, I'd have picked Haijing No. 1."

Qin Yun nearly jumped. "No way, no way! Rich families are terrifying. I'm leaving—I'm leaving!"

He started the engine, stomped the accelerator, and sped out along the outer road.

Behind him, Xia Xiaoxing called out: "Brother Qin, remember to come visit me next time!"

At the gate nearby, Xia Baichuan declared sternly: "For the next year, Xia Xiaoxing isn't leaving Shanghai. She'll work at the company—no allowance until she's served a full year."

Cai Xuan rolled her eyes. She knew exactly what her husband was thinking. "You're imagining things. Qin Yun has no such intentions."

"Hmph. My daughter's adorable—you don't understand men's hearts."

The car drove slowly, winding through streets until the navigation led him to a house clearly different in style from Xia Xiaoxing's.

It was a Chinese-style villa—immediately imposing, even larger than Xia Xiaoxing's home.

Confirming the address, Qin Yun called Han Wei.

The phone rang once, then a voice came through: "Master Qin, are you here yet?"

"Haha, I'm at your front gate—can I park beside it?"

"Of course, park anywhere. I'm coming out now."

Hanging up, Han Wei ran out of the room.

"Dad, Mom—Master Qin is here! Master Qin is here!"

Soon, the iron gate opened, and Han Wei and her parents stepped out.

Once again, the same scene unfolded—they sat together in the living room.

Han Shichu and Fang Yi knew far more about Qin Yun than the Xia family did, especially Fang Yi, who had followed Qin Yun's account ever since her daughter went to Yao Mei Peak.

She often watched his livestreams, though never made large donations like Han Wei—she simply watched.

After watching many of his streams, she found this young man brimmed with energy—always vibrant, spirited, and unbroken in his livestream, as if no setback could ever defeat him. Fang Yi grew fond of Qin Yun.

She had subtly probed her daughter and, upon confirming Han Wei had no romantic interest, even felt a pang of regret.

"By the way, Uncle, Auntie, I picked up a piece of golden silk nanmu in the Antique City and carved a few little trinkets— I don't know if you'll like them."

Qin Yun took out three boxes.

He handed them to the three according to their zodiac signs: Han Shichu was a Tiger, Fang Yi was a Dragon, and Han Wei was a Snake; because their ages differed, the zodiac forms were entirely distinct.

"Xiao Qin, you've thought of everything."

Fang Yi opened the brocade box. When she saw the gentle, dignified jade dragon pendant inside, her eyes lit up. Immediately, a refreshing fragrance drifted from the wooden plaque, making her mind feel suddenly clear.

For Fang Yi's plaque, Qin Yun abandoned the traditional bold and aggressive depiction of the dragon, employing an impressionistic relief technique that harmonized with feminine grace to create a dragon that initially radiated gentleness and elegance.

Its overall lines were soft and flowing, exuding quiet refinement—anyone who saw it felt an instant fondness.

Fang Yi had assumed it was just an ordinary trinket, but the finished piece was so unexpectedly delightful—she loved it at once, and felt Qin Yun's carving was even better than the wooden pendant she currently wore.

"Wow… such a lively snake! Qin Ye, your craftsmanship is incredible!" Han Wei exclaimed, immediately taking the wooden plaque from the box.

Han Shichu, unlike the mother and daughter who were delighted by the plaques, noticed first the wood itself. After careful inspection, he realized it was aged golden silk nanmu—this scent, this texture, was unquestionably top-grade.

But he didn't understand much about such things; he planned to take a photo later and ask someone, though he guessed the market price wouldn't be cheap.

Still, the tiger plaque also felt right to him—steady, imposing, concealing sharpness and embracing simplicity—perfectly matching his taste.

"If you all like them, that's all that matters."

Having experienced this before at Xia Xiaoxing's home, Qin Yun was used to it. Mostly, though he was a master carver, he didn't move in those circles, so he didn't care about the value his craft might carry.

That's how people are: the more one side values something, the more the other side begins to value it too.

Though Han Shichu didn't know the plaque's true worth, he still knew a little about top-grade golden silk nanmu—he could guess just by instinct that Qin Yun's gifts weren't trivial.

Three such plaques must be worth at least half a million—this young man was truly generous.

Could he be interested in Weiwei?

At that moment, as a father to a daughter, he instinctively had the same thought.

If Qin Yun knew, he'd probably die laughing.

He wasn't some stud who fell for every girl he met. Besides, whether it was Xia Xiaoxing or Han Wei, his impression of them was only surface-level—he treated them as ordinary friends. Put bluntly, he was just looking out for his benefactor.

More importantly, he had better options right beside him—why would he go far away? If he were to choose, it would be the one who occasionally stirred something deep inside him.

After dinner, Fang Yi handed him a red booklet: "Xiao Qin, this is Auntie's little token— you must accept it."

Qin Yun hurriedly refused: "Auntie, I helped Han Wei because we're friends. This makes me feel ashamed."

Fang Yi took Qin Yun's hand and pressed the booklet into it. "I'm not thanking you for helping Weiwei—I'm thanking you for breaking through the wall in her heart. We only have two daughters, Xiao Xue and Weiwei. After Xiao Xue passed, Weiwei shut herself off, blaming herself for her sister's death. Without you, I don't know how long it would've taken her to come out of it."

"Yes," Han Shichu sighed beside him, his eyes filled with sorrow. "Our eldest daughter is gone. We don't want our other daughter to suffer too. We know your career is thriving—you don't need money—but we don't know what else to give you in thanks. After thinking long and hard, we settled on this. You must accept it."

"Your uncle's right," Fang Yi pressed on. "You know money means nothing to our family. I know these few bills can't possibly match what you've done for Weiwei—and for us."

"Qin Ye, take it."

Qin Yun was torn between laughter and tears, clutching the red booklet, utterly helpless.

At Xia Xiaoxing's place, he got a Shanghai apartment. Now Han Wei's family gives him another. Soon he'd own two properties without even living in Shanghai.

"Alright, Uncle, Auntie—I won't refuse your kindness."

Qin Yun wasn't one to pretend modesty. Two apartments? He could handle it.

This was the foundation that strength brings. Now, from the bottom of his heart, he didn't think these things were anything extraordinary. He truly regarded them as external possessions—having them was icing on the cake; not having them, he didn't care.

The confidence that comes from personal strength is all-encompassing. Back when he was grinding in Beijing, he'd have been overjoyed, unable to sleep for days.

"Hahaha…" Han Shichu laughed. "That's the spirit. This commercial property is in Minhang District—the title's already in your name. I've had my people contact the current tenants. You just need to go over these next two days and sign new contracts."

"..."

Qin Yun didn't bother with manners—he flipped open the red booklet. The "Purpose" field clearly read: Commercial Land. Below it, the building area read: 348 square meters.

Fuck, commercial land in Minhang District? 348 square meters? How much is this even worth?

Qin Yun was genuinely stunned.

"Uncle, Auntie… this is too valuable."

"Don't you dare back out now," Fang Yi scolded, feigning anger. "It's just a little token from us."

In the end, Qin Yun accepted. But as he drove away from Zi Garden, he decided that living off women's generosity was a profession he hated with every fiber of his being.

Fuck, damn it!