Chapter 108: A Small Idea

Far away, Chen Jianghe saw several men sitting on the steps in front of a small house, smoking and talking.

Walking closer, he ignored the men, saw the door locked, and went to the window, peering inside.

Inside, apart from a few cabinets, a table, a few scattered chairs, and a wooden bed frame pushed together, there was only a thick layer of dust visible to the naked eye—nothing like a place inhabited by anyone.

Not seeing the person he wanted to find, Chen Jianghe sighed in disappointment.

Zhao Jiaqing, watching Chen Jianghe's actions, took a drag from his cigarette: "Looking for someone?"

"Ah, yes… yes, looking for someone. May I ask… where did the people here go?" Chen Jianghe snapped back to himself and hurriedly asked.

"Who are you?"

"I'm… I'm their friend."

Zhang Jun burst out laughing: "Friend? They've been gone three years—don't you know that?"

Chen Jianghe froze, then quickly asked: "Gone? Why? Where did they go? How's the woman of the house?"

Zhao Jiaqing exchanged glances with the others, then chuckled: "Oh, you're looking for Luo Yuzhu? There's something going on here, isn't there, guys? Hahahaha…"

This group had a habit of being cruel, especially Zhao Jiaqing. Wang Yan's appearance had cost him his house and driven off his wife, yet he kept his job and didn't have to scavenge for scraps to survive. Of course, in these times, scavenging and collecting trash could still make one rich. But Zhao Jiaqing, a lazy, cowardly, bullying type, couldn't compete with the tough ones—he'd probably be picking up trash till he died. In that light, Wang Yan had actually saved him.

Chen Jianghe paid no mind to their loud, malicious laughter, took a hundred yuan from his bag, and said: "A small token—take it for cigarettes. Please tell me how this family is doing."

Observing the situation, he instantly understood: these men clearly had bad blood with Luo Yuzhu—normal people didn't act like this.

It was just a few words—refusing would make one a fool. Zhao Jiaqing stopped laughing, snatched the money, and said: "I'll tell you—they moved into the city to do business three years ago. Have you heard of Long Teng?"

Chen Jianghe nodded. Long Teng's clothes were everywhere across Dajiangnanbei, all high-end products with surprisingly high sales—he'd certainly heard of them.

"That's their company now—truly impressive, tsk tsk…" Zhao Jiaqing shook his head, his emotions complicated.

He knew how poor Wang Dashan had been back then, and how Wang Dashan had claimed back then he was in business with Wang Yan. That money was his—Long Teng's success today owed him something, how could he not feel complicated?

Long Teng was Luo Yuzhu's business? Chen Jianghe was stunned by how much she'd changed, yet thrilled by her achievements.

"Thank you, sir. You all rest—I'll be going now."

Everyone in Qiancheng knew Long Teng. A little asking around led him straight to its office location. Chen Jianghe crouched somewhere, watching intently every person entering and exiting the building across the street.

"Slow down, son, the car hasn't even stopped yet—why the rush?" Wang Dashan parked the Tiger Head Ben steadily: "If your mom were here, you'd be in trouble."

"I just want to see Mom—I won't do it again next time."

"Good thing you know how to talk. Alright, get out." Wang Dashan laughed, opened the car door, stepped out, straightened his crisp suit, and walked into the company building with his son, backpack on his back, both radiating confidence.

"Manager Wang."

"Good afternoon, Manager Wang."

Wang Dashan wore a confident smile, nodding calmly to everyone who greeted him as they passed.

Money gives men courage—this saying is always true.

After three years of wealth accumulation and company growth, the people he now dealt with were no longer his old coworkers, but municipal leaders and powerful businessmen—elite types. Their conversations were no longer about daily meals and gossip, but policies, innovation, development, and cooperation. Combined with his own learning, practice, reflection, and progress, he was no longer the aimless railway worker of the past, nor the dull, ignorant man he once was.

Now, he was Wang Dashan—the Manager Wang of Long Teng, commanding the scene, stirring up storms in his domain.

Taking Wang Xu in the elevator to the twelfth floor, he pushed open the door to an office and stepped inside.

Seeing Wang Dashan enter with his son, Luo Yuzhu finished instructing the person before her, handed him a folder, and said: "Revise the proposal based on what I just said—bring it to me tomorrow. You can go now."

"Yes, Manager Luo. I'll be off." The man took the folder, turned, saw Wang Dashan, said "Manager Wang," and left.

Wang Dashan nodded, watched him leave, then said: "Let's go—we agreed to have dinner with Wang Yan."

Luo Yuzhu ruffled Wang Xu's hair as he ran up to her: "You two wait a bit—I'll finish what I'm working on."

"You've got so much work—can't it wait till tomorrow?"

"It's almost done, very soon. Look, your son can do some homework." Luo Yuzhu looked at Wang Xu: "Go on, sit down and do your homework properly."

Wang Dashan stood up, but before Luo Yuzhu, he had no authority. Seeing her determined, he led the pouting Wang Xu to a nearby sofa and sat down: "Wang Yan really has it easy—leaves all the hard work to us while he lounges in his bookstore all day. Really…"

Hearing this, Luo Yuzhu frowned, giving Wang Dashan a long, deep look. Thinking of her son's presence, she said nothing, lowered her head, and kept working.

Not getting a reply, Wang Dashan didn't care. He watched Wang Xu grimly scribbling homework, occasionally whispering quiet guidance.

After a long while, Luo Yuzhu closed the folder, set it aside, placed her pen down, stood up, stretched her neck, and let out a huge yawn: "Let's go—I'm done."

Without being told, Wang Xu quickly shoved all his books into his small backpack, slung it on, ran to the door, opened it, leaned against it, and grinned at Wang Dashan and Luo Yuzhu.

Seeing her son's lazy attitude, Luo Yuzhu couldn't help but laugh and sigh. She picked up her bag, walked over, and tapped Wang Xu's head: "Brat, you act like you're dying every time you do homework. I want to see what grades you get on your midterm. I'm warning you now—if you do badly, you'll regret it." Then she walked out first.

"Still got the nerve to smile? I won't beg for you when the time comes." Wang Dashan, annoyed, grabbed the carefree Wang Xu and followed after.

Chen Jianghe had crouched all afternoon, eyes fixed on the opposite building, his mind replaying memories of the two of them together, wondering what she was like now, whether she was happy, whether she had… forgotten him.

Watching the group emerge, Chen Jianghe glanced at his watch: five o'clock—time to leave work.

He straightened up, trying not to miss a single person coming out.

He believed that if she were among them, he would see her instantly.

Because she was so radiant—even among crowds, she stood alone, peerless.

Unfortunately, even after the dense crowd dispersed and only occasional pairs or singles emerged, Chen Jianghe still didn't see Luo Yuzhu. But he wasn't anxious—he was an older brother, knew how busy she must be. Not to mention she managed Long Teng, a company he could never hope to match—she was surely still working.

After a while, Chen Jianghe suddenly stood up—and smiled.

He saw her. He saw the woman he had dreamed of, longed for, day and night, for eight full years.

She was holding a little boy's hand on one side, a man on the other—laughing loudly as if sharing something joyful. He'd already suspected from the father-son pair he'd seen entering earlier; now, it was confirmed.

Chen Jianghe smiled, watching the scene before him—the scene he'd imagined countless times. But in his fantasies, the man beside her had always been him.

Watching Luo Yuzhu see the child into the car, he reached out to call out—but his mouth wouldn't open. He only raised his hand to the back of his head, eyes brimming with tears, lips trembling as he smiled at her—more mature, more radiant than before.

As Luo Yuzhu got into the car and the door slammed shut with a "Bang," Chen Jianghe shuddered, tears streaming down his face, helplessly watching the Tiger Head Ben—once promised to him by a subordinate—reverse, pull away, merge into traffic, and vanish.

Savoring the saltiness on his lips, Chen Jianghe angrily flung his hand, stamped his foot, spun in place. Ignoring the looks of passersby who thought him insane, he burst into loud sobs—like a child denied candy, utterly heartbroken.

Love is hard to fathom, hard to untangle, hard to settle.

Though Chen Jianghe had seen it before, had cried before, had long known the truth, seeing it again still pierced his heart.

That pain burned like fire, pricked like needles.

After a long while, Chen Jianghe finished crying and wiped his tears. He glanced at the onlookers pointing at him by the roadside, forced a smile, and walked off with long strides.

He smiled because Luo Yuzhu was well, happy, and successful.

That smile was certainly insincere—just the emotion passing.

No one truly rejoices when seeing their beloved raise children with another. Otherwise, they wouldn't keep bringing it up, smiling as they claimed to have let go, yet getting drunk every single time.

Carrying a heart full of pain, Chen Jianghe left Qian City that very night. He needed to work, to stay busy.

………

Not far from the bookstore, a two-story building stood along the street, indistinguishable from other shops on the same block.

It looked unremarkable, yet outside were parked many expensive cars. Above the entrance, a sign in bold, swirling characters read "Zhongxing Lou." Those who understood would sense the myriad energies within the strokes. At the door stood a young doorman, upright and composed, greeting each visitor politely and opening the door with courtesy. Inside, the decor was elegant, ancient, and quietly luxurious. A deep breath revealed a fragrance in the air—this was a restaurant.

In life, there are two things: eating and drinking. Though Wang Yan didn't picky—he ate whatever was put before him—his body was healthier than healthy, and he didn't believe in Buddha, didn't revere Dao, and had no time for gods or lords. He had money and free time; if he didn't eat well when he could, that would be a problem.

So to satisfy his appetite, he opened a private kitchen, spending heavily to gather a team of master chefs specializing in every kind of cuisine. Any Chinese dish with a name—he could make it, and their skills were more than sufficient.

As for the quality of this restaurant, I won't say it's top nationwide—after all, talent hides behind talent, masters abound among the people, and there are chefs qualified to cook for state banquets—but it's certainly among the front ranks. As for Jiangxi Province, after chatting with those masters, he was certain: unmatched in Jiangxi, no doubt.

Because of its high prestige, solid skill, and the fact that Wang Dashan and Luo Yuzhu both brought guests here, its reputation had truly spread. Expensive? Fine—there were always those who could afford it. Reservations were plentiful, and many connoisseurs came from afar, referred by others.

In the private room at the farthest window upstairs, cups clinked and laughter flowed.

After clinking glasses with Wang Yan, Wang Dashan took a sip and sighed: "Every time I come, I'm amazed—you truly know how to enjoy life."

Wang Yan set down his cup with a chuckle: "That's nonsense—it's my own business. Come whenever you like. You've eaten and drunk plenty yourself—what's there to marvel at?"

Wang Dashan shook his head: "Luo Yuzhu and I? We're born to toil. We're busy every day, never a moment's peace. Unlike you—you do whatever you want. I envy you."

Luo Yuzhu, who had been speaking to Zhao Ruyun, glanced at Wang Dashan, then turned to serve her son a bite of food.

Wang Yan laughed heartily, picked up a bottle of liquor, poured some for him, then filled his own cup: "Hey, it's all thanks to you two. You're both capable—you handle every big and small matter perfectly. I'm completely at ease. If you ever want peace and quiet, just hire a professional manager. Then, just check in occasionally, steer the direction, and enjoy life—do whatever you want."

Perhaps Wang Dashan spoke without intent, but his words revealed subconscious thoughts. He didn't mind—he understood. After all, Long Teng had grown too fast, expanding explosively in a short time. Correspondingly, control over resources, accumulation of wealth, expansion of influence—all these were demons that clouded the mind.

Not to mention Wang Dashan interacted only with the rich and powerful, met only smiling faces, heard only praise. Even the Qian City municipal leaders treated him with courtesy. In this overwhelming sense of achievement, it was normal for Wang Dashan to lose his footing, to get carried away.

He saw himself working from dawn to dusk, exhausted, earning only half. Meanwhile, he believed his contribution to Long Teng's expansion was irreplaceable. Then he looked at Wang Yan—reading books, drinking tea, flirting with beautiful women. Just to eat well, he spent a fortune opening a restaurant as his personal cafeteria, did nothing all day, yet still took a cut. The imbalance made his thoughts understandable—Wang Yan wasn't surprised.

Before Wang Dashan could speak, Luo Yuzhu smiled: "Wang Yan, don't listen to him. He's happy every single day—sometimes he wakes up laughing from dreams. Who'd have thought such a life was possible? Come, let's drink to this good life."

Embarrassed, Wang Dashan raised his cup and muttered: "It's not as exaggerated as you say." But sadly, no one responded.

Seeing Wang Xu also stand up with a full glass of soda, reaching forward, Wang Yan chuckled: "Good boy—you'll drink with your uncle when you grow up. Come on, let's clink glasses."

Emboldened by the approval, under Luo Yuzhu's smile, Wang Xu downed the entire glass of soda, then let out a burp.

Seeing him blush and cover his mouth, the adults teased him, then raised their cups and drank together.

The baijiu was strong; Luo Yuzhu coughed, wiped her lips with a tissue, and said: "Our expansion in Europe isn't going well—they seem resistant to our products."

Long Teng couldn't push other products there, so Wang Yan had shifted to clothing. He'd expected this—after all, the brand came from poor, backward China, sold at high prices, with poor promotion and few stores. Aside from seeming novel, quality was unproven; it was normal for foreigners to reject it.

"How's the financial situation lately?" Even if resistant, some would still be curious—he planned to hold ground first.

"It's okay—barely breaking even."

Wang Yan understood: a small loss, tolerable. He paused, then said: "If so, let's run some ads—this way…"

The method was simple: throw money at it. Spend to open doors, join fashion shows, hire celebrities as spokespeople, commission articles, hype it hard—just blast it. First, push Chinese culture out. Get Long Teng's name known, establish presence. He had confidence in his products—they'd crush the competition.

After this wave, flip it—launch a reverse hype to capture the domestic market. Sales were decent, but still couldn't compete with brands wearing foreign names. There was no help for it—this was the era: foreign meant better, deeply ingrained. No matter how great he was, it wouldn't help.

Wang Yan talked for a long while: "First, see how it goes. If it fails, we'll find another way. Otherwise, keep everything as is. Never stop R&D investment—keep increasing it. This is our future weapon, our lifeline."

Luo Yuzhu had this vision too; she supported independent R&D: "Don't worry—I know. I guarantee no problems."

After discussing other matters with the couple, they chatted a while longer, then ended the banquet.

He arranged for someone to take them home, watched Wang Dashan's car vanish, then walked back with Zhao Ruyun, arm around her. For convenience, he'd bought a house nearby; besides traveling far for sightseeing, he read, ate, and strolled within this circle.

"I think Wang Dashan has some feelings toward you."

Honestly, she was still amazed—who'd have thought meeting someone so powerful just by browsing a bookstore? Not just his status, but everything about him was like a giant beast.

Fate truly was wondrous.

She knew her place—being invited to dinner was an honor. Not to mention the things discussed at the table—development directions, strategies—she didn't even need to drink the soup; selling just those insights to Long Teng's rivals would earn her a fortune.

So besides occasionally speaking a few words to Luo Yuzhu, she had almost no presence. Most of the time, she listened silently, observed every move, absorbing everything.

Wang Dashan's words, Luo Yuzhu's glance, Wang Yan's reply, and Wang Dashan's hesitation when R&D was mentioned—she noticed all of it. Not a fool, someone who understood human relations could see what was happening.

"People are precious when they know themselves. Let him decide," Wang Yan said calmly. "Would you like to expand? Run a hotel, maybe?"

Zhao Ruyun's eyes lit up, but she shook her head: "No thanks—I'm not suited for business. Even my little inn barely survives."

She was wise—he didn't fall for her feigned modesty: "I still have some money. Take it."

He wasn't lying—company expansion consumed too much cash. Aside from what Old Su had given him, and his own side ventures, he truly had little money—his car was just a Santana.

Zhao Ruyun knew "some money" from Wang Yan meant something entirely different from her "some money"—enough to launch her into flight, or he wouldn't have said it. She didn't refuse—he gave, she took. In the end, she'd accept anyway; she knew her thoughts couldn't hide from Wang Yan. Pretending to decline would only lose points—she understood that.

Ignoring onlookers, she kissed Wang Yan passionately, cheeks flushed, then pulled his arm close to her chest, pressing her full curves against it: "Let's hurry home…"