Chapter 168

He had originally planned to drive back to Hangzhou today, but unexpectedly ran into two wealthy families.

One gave him a house in Pudong, the other a commercial shop in Minhang—he could only stay in Shanghai one more day.

The next day, he first went to Jiuli Shuxiang in Pudong; the neighborhood's location was indeed far outskirt, at least thirty kilometers from the city center, and for an ordinary person living there, commuting to work by car would be a problem.

Though situated in Lingang, the complex was well-built, with a grand entrance gate, perfect for a temporary stay.

The house was fully renovated but empty inside—just a room full of dust—he had no intention of dealing with it yet, so he wandered around, handled some property procedures, and left. Then he headed straight for the Minhang commercial shop.

He didn't know Shanghai well, but he knew Minhang was the geographic center and the true core district of the city now, so he didn't need to guess how high the property prices were there.

Even a slightly off-center commercial shop in Minhang district was probably worth over ten million, let alone…

Qin Yun stared at the shop ahead and thought: Did I come to the right place?

The shop was currently rented to Moutai and Chow Tai Fook—Moutai occupied two-thirds, Chow Tai Fook one-third; Moutai paid 1. million yuan annually, Chow Tai Fook 600, 00.

"Damn—!"

This was a golden goose—he didn't need to do anything, just collect rent and lie back and relax; this gift was too heavy.

The arrival of the new landlord made the owners of the Moutai and Chow Tai Fook stores anxious, fearing their leases wouldn't be renewed. Since this year was the contract renewal period, even if they refused to renew, the tenants had no recourse.

"Mr. Mao, Mr. Zhou, I'm not fond of changes—just re-sign the contract as before, but the rent increase needs adjustment."

Qin Yun's words made Mao and Zhou feel bitter—damn, capitalists really are ruthless.

But Qin Yun's next sentence stunned them: "Mr. Mao, Mr. Zhou, since this is our first collaboration, your success means my rent income—so let's lower the increase from 8% to 3%."

The two stared at each other.

"Uh, Mr. Qin, you mean reduce to 3%, not increase by another 3%?" Mr. Mao asked cautiously—he currently paid 1. million yuan per year; an 8% increase would raise it to nearly 1. million, but a 3% increase would save him sixty or seventy thousand.

Qin Yun smiled: "Exactly reduced to 3%. What? Are you two unwilling?"

How could they not be willing? They just hadn't expected such sudden good fortune—immediately they said: "Willing, willing! Thank you, Mr. Qin! Thank you, Mr. Qin!"

"Then sign the contract—I'm leaving for Hangzhou soon, time is tight."

Quickly, the lease was re-signed; Qin Yun had gained a residential property and a commercial shop yielding two million yuan gross annually, all without lifting a finger.

On the way back to Hangzhou, he told Su Huan about it.

Su Huan laughed helplessly, teasing: "Did they want you to marry into the family? Become their son-in-law?"

"I thought the same," Qin Yun said without shame, even proudly: "What can I do? When you're outstanding, you're just that popular."

"Pfft, give you a sliver of sunlight and you think you're the whole sky," Su Huan scoffed.

"Hahahaha!"

They chatted and laughed, and soon Qin Yun exited the highway, entered the city, and after another half-hour, pulled up outside Su Huan's building.

It was already 5: 0 p. .

As the door opened, the aroma wafted out, making one's appetite surge.

"Wash your hands—dinner's ready."

Su Huan wore a cream-colored apron, looking every bit the devoted wife and mother—his heart skipped a beat.

He had never seen this side of Song Ya.

In the past, he and Song Ya were complete opposites—kitchen was his domain; Song Ya rarely entered it.

He glanced at the dishes on the table and smiled: "Looks good—though I wonder if the taste matches? If it's bad, this master chef will have to scold you."

Su Huan tapped his shoulder: "Go wash up, Master Qin—hurry, or the food will get cold."

After Qin Yun washed his hands, Su Huan poured each of them a bottle of coconut milk.

"Here—to celebrate your successful live stream. Cheers."

"Cheers!"

They clinked bottles lightly and each took a sip.

"Today's the 16th—how long can you rest until?"

Qin Yun said: "Douyin's notice says I leave Beijing on the 20th with Guo Yao for a ten-day training camp in Canada, then the show recording starts January 1st."

"No rest before recording?"

"Mm." Qin Yun nodded. "Direct recording—the format's basically unchanged: collect footage every seven days, so the first episode airs in the third week, delayed about two weeks."

"That's a long delay."

"Can't help it—editing footage from fifty people in a week is already tight. The schedule's set this way initially; as the number of participants drops, they'll adjust—probably record one week and air the next."

They ate and chatted, talking only about work.

"I was just thinking," Qin Yun picked up another piece of peeled fish, puzzled: "How did you make this taste? Did you watch a recipe online? It's so authentic—I swear it reminds me of my mom's cooking."

Su Huan chuckled: "Your mom taught me. I was wondering when you'd notice."

"I recognized it from the first bite—I thought you copied an online recipe, but the more I ate, the more it tasted like my mom's—she always uses a lot of vinegar, which most people can't stand."

"So? How's my cooking talent, Master Qin?" Su Huan's eyes narrowed, her smile bursting from her face.

"Excellent," Qin Yun gave a thumbs-up. "You've reached one-tenth of my skill. When I have time, I'll teach you the culinary Dao—you'll break through your current level effortlessly."

"Get lost."

They ate for over an hour.

Laughing and chatting, Qin Yun felt more relaxed than ever—he wished it could last forever.

"Leave it—I'll wash the dishes."

Su Huan moved to stop him as he started clearing the table.

"No, you peel some fruit," Qin Yun gently pushed her hand back. "You cooked—let me wash the dishes. I used to do it all the time."

Su Huan froze, her gaze on him suddenly soft.

"The past is past, Qin Yun—don't keep remembering it. Look ahead."

Qin Yun met her gaze, wanting to look away but unable to—he didn't want to, either.

"Yeah… it's all past."

Their eyes locked, and silence fell.

No words—only their breaths, light and entwined; heartbeats—one, two—clear as bells.

Qin Yun couldn't bear it—he grabbed the dishes and hurried into the kitchen, nearly fleeing.

Su Huan smiled, leaning against the kitchen doorway, watching his back—she felt unexpectedly happy.

Qin Yun turned on the tap—cold water hit his hands, finally calming him.

"Qin Yun, Qin Yun—don't get distracted by beauty. If you can't control yourself, what kind of man are you?"

After cleaning up, he sat for a while, then prepared to leave.

Su Huan's place was a one-bedroom apartment.

Qin Yun stepped out, carrying the kitchen waste: "I'm off—get some rest."

"Mm. Drive safely."

He nodded, turned down the stairs, and tossed the trash into the bin—when Su Huan's voice came from above.

"Master Qin, what are we doing tomorrow?"

Qin Yun looked up, scratched his head: "I don't know the area—why don't you decide?"

"Let's walk through Jiuxi Shiba Jian—it should be beautiful in winter."

"Fine. Whatever you say."

"It's settled—I'll wait for you."

Qin Yun waved, turned, got in his car, started the engine, and drove off.

Su Huan didn't see that Qin Yun's Land Rover had barely left the complex before pulling over at a nearby bus stop, his face turning pale as he stared at the system panel before him.

It was the new Daka task that had just popped up when Su Huan mentioned Jiuxi Shiba Jian.

It was this task that made him go pale.

【Published Daka Task: Host must visit Jiuxi Shiba Jian on December 17 and kiss Su Huan to complete Daka 】

Visiting Jiuxi Shiba Jian wasn't the issue—it was the "kiss Su Huan" part.

Damn it, is this system even serious? How are you doing this kind of thing? Kissing is for lovers—he and Su Huan aren't lovers, how could he possibly do that?

Qin Yun wasn't insane enough to force a kiss on Su Huan just to complete a task.

"I'm speechless," Qin Yun rubbed his face, utterly at a loss for how to express his feelings.

At that moment, his lips felt dry, his body somehow anticipating something.

He sat at the bus stop for a long time, unable to think of a solution, finally deciding—

"Fuck it—I'm ignoring this task."

He stomped the gas, and the car roared off.

That night, Qin Yun tossed and turned, unable to sleep—his mind raced with images: himself, always with a familiar figure beside him, always doing things beyond friendship.

It excited him—but more than that, it unsettled him, stirred anticipation.

He knew what he was excited about, what he was anticipating—but a voice inside warned him: new feelings must be handled with caution, extreme caution—don't repeat past mistakes.

Until 3 or 4 a. ., he suddenly slapped himself hard, growling: "Fuck it—what are you afraid of? Are you even a man? Qin Yun, sleep."

…

"Didn't you sleep well?" Su Huan studied Qin Yun, puzzled. "You look tired."

Qin Yun shook his head, not mentioning he hadn't slept at all.

Though he looked drained, his current physical condition could handle an all-nighter easily.

"I'm fine. Are you ready? Let's go."

Su Huan nodded, scanned him up and down, then returned to the bedroom to fetch a scarf.

"It's a bit cold in Hangzhou today; this scarf will keep you warmer."

As she spoke, she reached out and draped the scarf around Qin Yun's neck; the two suddenly drew very close, so close that Qin Yun could smell the fragrance on Su Huan and see the fine hairs on her face.

Qin Yun's body tensed instantly; he held his breath, afraid the smell of breakfast might escape his mouth and sully the beauty before him.

After wrapping the scarf snugly, Su Huan studied him for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction: "There, now you'll be warm. Let's go."