Chapter 37: Henglu Village

The next day, Wang Yan exercised and returned home.

Sometimes, when you’re thinking about something important for tomorrow, you naturally wake up on time the next day.

As soon as he opened the door, Wang Yan saw Xu Ziyán—rarely not sleeping in—full of energy and running around the house.

Yesterday at kindergarten, he bragged nonstop to the other kids and totally showed off.

Seeing Wang Yan come in, Xu Ziyán ran over excitedly: “Dad, I’m all set—when are we leaving?”

“We’ll leave after breakfast.”

Saying this, he picked Xu Ziyán up and tossed him gently into the air amid the boy’s laughter: “Let’s go, we two boys need to freshen up first.”

After playfully washing up and finishing Gu Jia’s lovingly prepared breakfast, they packed up and checked to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything.

Amid Xu Ziyán’s bouncy, nonstop laughter and Gu Jia’s loud scolding, Wang Yan nervously drove off.

He’d practiced well yesterday, but he’d never driven on real roads; with so many cars around, he claimed not to care, yet he felt a bit uneasy inside.

But in reality, things went smoothly. Most people wouldn’t know much about RVs, but seeing this vehicle that wasn’t quite a bus or a coach, they could tell it was expensive—and that earned Wang Yan some leniency.

No random honking, no hit-and-run scams.

After getting past the initial discomfort and a couple of traffic jams, he gradually adapted and became more confident behind the wheel.

It was rush hour, so there was some congestion, but everyone was heading into the city—he was heading out, and once he passed the CBD loop, traffic cleared up.

He didn’t take the highway because he wanted to see the scenery.

Along the way, Wang Yan stuck to national and provincial roads, where there were countless vehicles of all sizes, e-bike riders, and pedestrians ignoring traffic rules; combined with their frequent stops to admire the views, they couldn’t go very fast.

Aside from the occasional big trucks and trailers roaring past him and honking mockingly, the whole journey was quite pleasant.

They leisurely drove through Hecheng, Lin’an, Yuezhou, all the way to Henglu Village in Jianshan Town, Pan’an County, Wuzhou.

Along the way, it was all mountains and rivers—southern China has no shortage of water; there were lakes and rivers everywhere.

They passed through Wuzhen, Xitang, West Lake, Thousand Island Lake, Liangzhu Ruins, Lanting, Lu Xun’s former residence, and many other historical, cultural, and geographical landmarks.

At every stop, they hired a local guide—after all, what he could learn from books or videos simply couldn’t compare to the expertise of a professional.

Wang Yan paid well, the guides delivered excellent service, meticulously explaining historical anecdotes and celebrity stories, patiently answering the endless naive questions from the three of them, especially Xu Ziyán.

Professionals really are different; Wang Yan couldn’t say he understood everything thoroughly, but he definitely understood clearly.

Through these experiences, Wang Yan felt the richness of Jiangsu-Zhejiang’s cultural heritage and the beauty of its landscapes—truly a land of outstanding people and scenic beauty.

During the day, they traveled slowly, stopping frequently to explore; Xu Ziyán ran around joyfully, and since children sleep deeply, it didn’t disturb their rest at night. Wang Yan and Gu Jia, meanwhile, were fully active—being away from home felt completely different.

Finally, after a week of slow, meandering travel, the three arrived at their destination: Henglu Village, Jianshan Town, Pan’an County, Wuzhou.

The village chief had received word in advance and organized a grand welcome ceremony for them.

Gu Jia was overwhelmed—she hadn’t expected the villagers to go to such lengths.

Wang Yan remained calm; he understood the villagers’ intentions.

They simply wanted to make a good impression and secure this source of income. After forty years of reform, our material resources have become incredibly abundant—but only a few truly enjoy this abundance, while many still live in hardship.

Southern China is economically developed; the people here are far better off than those in western mountainous regions, but now that they’re better off, they want even better.

If they can retain and even expand this source of income, their lives will improve, giving everyone hope and motivation.

Holding Xu Ziyán’s curious face, Wang Yan and Gu Jia thanked the village chief and the warm, simple villagers.

After meeting and getting acquainted, the village chief hosted a feast for them, inviting several respected elders and a few local men known for their drinking skills to join.

They warmly welcomed the three, but mainly focused on Wang Yan—what could they do with a woman and a child? They had to target him.

Alcohol doesn’t care about north or south—no one eats meals just drinking tea.

Facing all the toasts, Wang Yan accepted every one—he drank whenever someone raised a glass and often returned the gesture. The appetizers on the table were undoubtedly the village’s finest—every dish was hearty, some he’d never even heard of; after asking, he learned they were expensive on the market, likely reserved for sale by someone’s household, now enjoyed by him. It wasn’t quite the communal potluck style, but the quality was still sufficient—perhaps the village chief had gathered rare delicacies hard to find in the city. He wouldn’t act aloof and hurt their feelings.

Even a strong tiger can’t fight off a pack of wolves—Wang Yan was truly overpowered and didn’t even remember how the night ended.

The next day, his long-established biological clock was completely ruined—he didn’t wake up until the sun was high.

The room was empty; rubbing his aching head, he got dressed. On the table beside him, Gu Jia had thoughtfully left toiletries and breakfast—the meal looked simple, no fancy decorations, clearly not made by her.

After quickly eating breakfast as lunch and freshening up, Wang Yan stepped outside.

Outside, the sun blazed brightly, but Henglu Village sits at a high elevation surrounded by mountains, so it didn’t feel hot—just intensely sunny.

Wang Yan strolled through the alleyways; everyone had seen them the day they arrived, and passersby greeted him frequently. After asking about the tea factory’s location, he wandered over leisurely.

He hadn’t properly observed the surroundings when he arrived yesterday—he’d been completely overwhelmed.

Now, taking a closer look, the scenery was truly beautiful: bamboo houses and stone cottages on either side of the alley, moss-covered, uneven stone steps worn smooth by time—poetic and serene. If you added mist-shrouded distant mountains in the morning, children’s laughter, schoolchildren chanting, and neighbors calling out, it would be perfect.

As he admired the scenery along the way, he unconsciously arrived at the tea factory.

Inside, he saw Gu Jia looking troubled, listening to one of his subordinates speak.

Seeing Wang Yan arrive, the subordinate stopped talking and greeted him.

Wang Yan nodded to the subordinate.

“You feeling okay?” Gu Jia asked, concerned. She’d watched them drink and felt heartbroken—seeing him consume so much, she didn’t think of his past with Xu Huanshan. After all, he’d passed out; she just assumed he was putting on a brave face and drinking more than usual.

Wang Yan shook his head, indicating he was fine.

Seeing him shake his head, Gu Jia didn’t press further. Adults know their own limits—just showing concern was enough. She continued frowning, lost in thought.

When something serious happens, you either speak up directly or pretend everything’s fine and bear it alone. Gu Jia’s behavior clearly signaled she wanted his attention—Wang Yan couldn’t miss the signs. Even though he knew what was going on, he still asked: “What’s wrong? Why the long face?”

“Tell him,” Gu Jia said to the subordinate beside her.

“This is the situation, Boss Wang—the tea factory...”

The subordinate then explained everything clearly, just as in the drama—issues of qualifications and financial deficits, purely about money, nothing major.

Wang Yan listened carefully, then told the subordinate to go relax, and turned to Gu Jia: “That’s it? I’ll transfer you five million right away—won’t that solve everything?”

“Oh, it’s not because of that,” Gu Jia said irritably.

This time, Gu Jia didn’t act as devastated as in the drama—she had over ten million in liquid assets under her name.

Wang Yan understood: she was thinking back on her past actions and thoughts, feeling like a clown, watched by others who smiled silently. Being made a fool of felt terrible, and she was embarrassed and annoyed.

“Is it that Mrs. Li?” Wang Yan asked, already knowing the answer.

Gu Jia nodded firmly, her expression saying, “That old hag.”

Wang Yan smiled indifferently, pulled out his phone, and opened a file to hand it to Gu Jia.

Confused, she took the phone, glanced at it, then gasped in shock and dropped it.

Wang Yan reacted instantly, catching it before it hit the ground—no cracked screen; his subordinate needed the phone for work, and a broken screen would cause delays.

“You decide what to do. They have a small estate, right? Everything else is fine, but it’s too big for our family of three.” He shook his head slightly, sounding regretful.

Gu Jia was still stunned—this was such a massive matter she couldn’t process it: “Where did you get all this? Why keep it on your phone?”

It wasn’t surprising she reacted so strongly; for someone with a bit of money like her, these things were only imagined. Now holding the ultimate trump card, she felt like a child playing with a sword—it was dangerous, and she couldn’t handle it.

When Wang Yan first arrived, he spent considerable time and effort investigating everyone connected to Gu Jia, uncovering every dirty secret.

What he showed her were Mrs. Li’s shining achievements: bribery, collusion, asset transfer, unfair competition, tax evasion, even murder—plus details about her son: seducing women, forcing sex leading to pregnancy, bullying, drug abuse, promiscuity, and more.

The perpetrators thought they were safe, but every action leaves traces. Even though they covered their tracks well, no one normally investigates them—those who do are rivals of equal standing, and everyone has dirt. High-level players know their place and treat each other with utmost respect, never causing trouble. Low-level players wouldn’t dare—trying to swallow an elephant? Unless you’re the chosen one, the elephant just steps on you—and you’re done. How many lives does one have to waste like this?

Only Wang Yan wasn’t afraid. If you play by the rules, fine—we’ll see who’s better at the game. But if you break the rules, Wang Yan guaranteed their entire family would vanish.

As for safety on his phone? He’d taken simple precautions—malware couldn’t easily access the data. No one normally tries to steal phone files, and even if someone did, they’d be terrified upon seeing it. As for blackmail? That’s up to individual choice—human nature is too complex to predict. If someone truly stupid tried to use it, they deserved what came to them.

“Don’t worry about how I got these,” Wang Yan said. “Just tell me what you want to do.”

After much hesitation, Gu Jia finally let go. First, she didn’t want to cause Wang Yan trouble—what was in those files was terrifying. Second, she realized she was just low-level, obsessed with wealth, and couldn’t blame others.

She sighed and shook her head: “Let it go. I was just greedy. Forget it.”

Wang Yan thought she was afraid, so he hugged her: “Don’t worry—it’s fine. Absolutely no problem. The worst they’ll get is prison.” He didn’t mention the worse possibilities—it was too bloody for Gu Jia, who’d grown up in peace.

“It’s true—I really don’t want revenge. No need for such a big deal. Let it go,” Gu Jia murmured, nestled in Wang Yan’s arms.

Wang Yan now knew for sure: Gu Jia genuinely didn’t want revenge. He said nothing more. This was the old saying: better to avoid trouble than to create it; better to suffer loss than to seek revenge. He didn’t care either way—he’d do whatever she chose. If she said go, he’d go. If she said stop, he’d stop. No need to force drama—it’s too exhausting and pointless.

With her worries lifted, Gu Jia became lively again.

Children make friends easily—yesterday they’d just arrived, today Xu Ziyán was already playing in the mud with the local kids. Gu Jia found him covered head to toe in mud, pinched his ear, and dragged him away; the carefree boy still waved goodbye to his friends, laughing, promising to play again tomorrow.

Gu Jia didn’t scold him in front of the other children—different educational backgrounds and family environments meant she couldn’t risk hurting their sensitive hearts.

Of course, scolding him at home wouldn’t work either—he’d run behind Wang Yan for protection. Wang Yan didn’t care—he’d played in mud and urine as a child too, and Xu Ziyán was far better than he’d been.

After bathing and changing Xu Ziyán’s clothes, the family of three, led by the village chief, went to watch how tea was made—also so Xu Ziyán could gain experience to brag about back at kindergarten.

For the entire afternoon, they observed the entire process—from picking leaves to pan-firing and final drying—all done by hand.

Afterward, the village chief wanted to take Wang Yan out for another drink. This time, Wang Yan refused—not because he was afraid, but he couldn’t spend half his day drinking every day. He was here to enjoy himself, not to become a drunkard.

The village chief was slightly disappointed but didn’t insist. He prepared a few dishes, and they had a small, relaxed drink.

After putting Xu Ziyán to sleep, Gu Jia slipped under the covers and curled into Wang Yan’s arms.

Feeling Wang Yan’s hands getting restless, Gu Jia smiled faintly: “I’m on my period.” She also felt relieved—liking it was one thing, but she couldn’t handle it constantly; even she had limits.

Wang Yan reluctantly withdrew his hand—he couldn’t help it. But seeing Gu Jia’s cherry lips so close, he leaned in and kissed her. Then, whispering softly in her ear.

After hearing him, Gu Jia’s face flushed red—she’d never experienced anything like that.

Unable to resist his gentle yet persistent coaxing, she slowly slipped under the covers.

They stayed in Henglu Village for a week.

While Gu Jia busied herself with planning the tea factory’s production and sales, the two men were truly relaxed.

Xu Ziyán spent his days climbing trees, fishing, and playing in the mud, thoroughly happy. Wang Yan wandered around daily, exploring and observing, equally content.

It wasn’t that Wang Yan didn’t want to help Gu Jia—he’d just be taking over her work. Besides, it was such a small matter; let her handle it.

During this time, Xu Huanshan called, asking where Gu Jia had taken Xu Ziyán.

He’d finished his honeymoon with Lin Youyou and, now that the initial comfort had worn off, remembered he had a son.

Coincidentally, he called while the whole family was together—Xu Ziyán happened to call out to Wang Yan: “Dad!”—the word cut through the air like a knife.

Memories of his encounter with Wang Yan flooded his mind; Xu Huanshan nearly went mad on the phone, screaming at Gu Jia and Wang Yan, accusing Gu Jia of betraying him, hurling every insult imaginable.

Wang Yan heard clearly and saw clearly, but he didn’t care one bit—someday he might even spar with Cao Cao himself; who the hell are you?

Gu Jia stood upright and had nothing to hide; she didn’t care what Xu Huanshan thought and remained silent.

After cursing for a while and receiving no reply, Xu Huanshan stopped and slammed down the phone in fury. Once he calmed down, the deed was done; no matter what he said now, it was useless.

As Wang Yan had predicted, the system notified him the next day that the quest was complete.