Chapter 956: Yan Chunqiu

“Old Liu doing okay?”

Wang Yan was driving, asking Zheng Qiudong, who sat in the passenger seat.

“Same as always, no big changes,” Zheng Qiudong smiled. “He said pretty much the same thing you did—that I rely on petty cleverness, lack integrity, and won’t last long. He even gave me a couplet: Upper line: Foolish cunning, blind self-doubt; Lower line: Diligent wisdom, sincere action; Horizontal scroll: Self-encouragement.”

“Old Liu’s got leisure to spare. Clearly, after you arranged his parents’ joint burial, he’s laid his heart to rest—now he’s in a state of peace, almost transcendent.”

“He’s forty this year, still strong. Even without parole, twenty years won’t be a problem. Besides, he’s proactive—he’ll be out in ten, still has good days ahead. He taught me so much, and gave me three hundred thousand before. I can’t forget that debt. When he gets out, if I’ve got the means, I’ll make sure he lives comfortably.”

"Gratitude repaid," Wang Yan chuckled, pulling over to the curb. "Get out. Let’s grab a quick bite—you’ve been around here before, you know the rice noodle place. Their cooking is top-notch."

“Let’s try it,” Zheng Qiudong said. He’d traveled far and wide; his palate was well-traveled.

Wang Yan had picked this spot near the talent market—its noodle craftsmanship was naturally excellent. A simple bowl reached Level 4 quality, which was impressive. Business was strong; locals came here to eat.

Zheng Qiudong nodded repeatedly, lavishing praise on the shop’s craftsmanship.

He volunteered: “Brother Yan, I won’t lie—I never planned to come here. You know I love big cities, dream of suits and ties, of success surrounded by elites.”

“Couldn’t make it in Beijing?”

“Nope. I got blacklisted by HR. It’s a joint system developed by major companies’ HR departments to share talent—exchange info, keep tabs.”

Seeing Wang Yan sneer, Zheng Qiudong wasn’t embarrassed. “But controlling talent works too. I ended up on that list—no big company would hire me. Then I reached out to Luo Yiren. She gave me two hundred thousand. That same night, I got warned: stay away from Yiren, or I’d be sent back in.”

I knew it was Xia Jiguo’s people. I didn’t want to drag Yiren into trouble, so I left Beijing. I stuck a dart on a map—it landed on Hangzhou. My first thought? Open a job agency there. Then I remembered Xiong Qingchun’s words. With nowhere else to turn, and you here—I just came to join you.”

“My master also advised me to work with you. He said you’ve got vision, strength—you’re a once-in-decades genius. But you’re too carefree, might not tolerate mundane work. If you focused, you’d dominate business someday.”

“Old Liu’s flattery makes me blush. ‘Not tolerating mundane things’? Since ancient times, heroes rise and fall—none escape power and money. In modern society, what doesn’t need cash? I’m a thoroughly ordinary man—don’t elevate me so high. Our main goal from now on? Make money. Only when wealth overwhelms desire can you afford to pretend you’re above it all.”

They finished eating, then wandered nearby, searching for shops for sale or rent.

The talent market wasn’t remote—it was planned long ago—but it wasn’t bustling. No talent means no foot traffic. Only part-time gigs linger here. So shop rents were low, and many were desperate to sell.

Wang Yan and Zheng Qiudong drove two loops around the market and found an ad shop: two stories, modestly renovated, not run-down, in good condition, affordable rent—ready to use. Just slightly off-center.

It was meant as temporary, anyway. Their work involved going out actively. The shop would only serve for future interviews—they’d screen candidates before placing them with other firms.

After checking it out, they picked up Xiong Qingchun and Huang Zimu, signed the lease on the spot, paid the deposit, and arranged to move in a week.

Then they found Zheng Qiudong an apartment, bought essentials, settled him in, and Wang Yan returned to the agency, lit a cigarette, and sat on the old, worn-out sofa.

Xiong Qingchun, texting on her phone, asked: “All settled?”

“Rented a two-bedroom in Fengxi Jiayuan.”

“You’re living with him? We’re making money now, and it’s getting colder every day—can’t keep living like this, right?”

Wang Yan exhaled smoke. “I thought you were inviting me to move in with you.”

“Get lost, stop talking nonsense,” Xiong Qingchun said, glancing at Huang Zimu, who seemed deeply focused on documents—her face flushed.

"It’s inevitable—you just won’t admit it. I saw it this morning: you had that sour face again. For the past month, half your days you’ve looked like that. What’s the point of a relationship like this? If it’s over, break up. We’re all people of the martial world—why drag it out?"

“Ugh, are you done yet? Can’t you just shut up?”

Wang Yan shrugged, smiling at Huang Zimu, who was clearly enjoying the drama. “Don’t think we’re lovers. It’s normal romance. Boss lady’s got a boyfriend—I’m chasing her. That’s courtship.”

Huang Zimu clapped. “Brother Yan, if you hadn’t said it, I thought you two were a married couple. Seriously—you and Qingchun are perfect together.”

“You’re just honest and sincere—you speak nothing but truth.”

“Hehe, yeah, I’m just straightforward.”

“Can you smoke? Have one,” Wang Yan chuckled, tossing him a Huazǐ. Huang Zimu caught it naturally and lit up.

Xiong Qingchun waved her hand dismissively. “Get out, go smoke outside.”

Wang Yan blew a smoke ring, smirking as Xiong Qingchun rolled her eyes, then headed outside with Huang Zimu to smoke…

A month of closeness wasn’t wasted. Wang Yan’s thousand-year charm wasn’t for nothing. Daily proximity had deeply affected Xiong Qingchun.

Comparison is instinctive—Xiong Qingchun was no exception. Since Wang Yan bluntly declared his feelings, she had to take it seriously. She began comparing her boyfriend to Wang Yan. Compared to him, her boyfriend was lacking in every way—except for one flaw: he’d been jailed for assault.

Just in ability: Wang Yan personally took charge, and business exploded. Xiong Qingchun knew jobs were hard to get, but talent wasn’t scarce. She’d worked years and barely scraped by. Wang Yan stepped in, broke through the entrenched part-time market with its web of small connections, and secured new partners daily. That’s real business.

But her boyfriend? Broke, from a single-parent family, still self-funded his overseas trip—she’d even lent him two hundred thousand. Wang Yan’s comment: “No talent, yet chasing lofty dreams.”

Why did Xiong Qingchun look sour every day? Constant fights. Why? Resentment piled up, compounded by comparison to Wang Yan—and his merciless mockery of her boyfriend. She heard it. She couldn’t stop thinking.

So their relationship was crumbling—any moment now, it’d end.

Wang Yan’s actions, viewed across the whole story, were fine—he’d have broken up with her boyfriend anyway. But in the present moment, they were morally questionable. So what?

He’s always been slightly flawed…

That night, Wang Yan and the four of them met at a restaurant.

“Come on, let’s toast to the launch of our venture,” Xiong Qingchun raised her glass.

Zheng Qiudong grinned. “You make it sound like a mafia movie.”

“Look at you—after prison, even saying ‘business’ makes you overthink. If you want real gangsters, look at those thugs with tattoos—they look like criminals.”

“Just drink already—you’ve been holding that glass up long enough,” Wang Yan chuckled.

Truthfully, Xiong Qingchun wasn’t wrong—he really was a thug. And “business”? He’d done that too.

After one drink, Xiong Qingchun said: “We’ve agreed on equity: Zheng Qiudong gets 20%, I take 20%. I know I’m getting the better deal—I’m not delusional. You’re the powerhouse, you decide. Let’s just lock it in—I’ll take the advantage. We’ve found the new office. Now, what should we name the company? Think of a few options.”

“Jingcheng? Excellence and integrity.”

Xiong Qingchun shook her head, disgusted. “That’s definitely taken. Don’t even think about it.”

“But there’s more after it—you can add parentheses.”

“Xinyuan Cheng?” Wang Yan smiled. “Means ‘wish fulfilled’—auspicious.”

“What about Jingyan?” Huang Zimu, the new guy, chimed in eagerly. “Brother Yan’s the major shareholder, it shows excellence, and it sounds good.”

Wang Yan waved his hand. “Using my name in a partnership? That’s tacky.”

Honestly, he froze hearing it. He couldn’t be wrong—it was the company from The Flowing Years. Memories surged. He felt that familiar pang of transience—even though he always felt it.

Xiong Qingchun sighed. “I like this name. What do you think, Zheng Qiudong?”

“I think it’s fine. Brother Yan’s Xinyuan Cheng is good too. Company names just need to be catchy and memorable. Let’s go with Jingyan first. If that doesn’t work, try Xinyuan Cheng. If not, I vote for Yan Chunqiu—one character each. Catchy, memorable.”

“I like Yan Chunqiu—it’s interesting. Put that first, Xinyuan Cheng second, Jingyan third. As Qiudong said: catchy and memorable—that’s enough. No need for deep meaning. Done. Now that’s settled, tomorrow we’ll find a lawyer, sign the contract. When the ad company vacates, we’ll register. That’s it. Drink up, everyone!”

Huang Zimu was outgoing and fit in well—even as the newcomer, thanks to the group’s care. They ate and drank together. Xiong Qingchun even told Huang Zimu the story of Wang Yan and Zheng Qiudong’s jail time—jokingly, mostly because she’d slipped earlier, and Huang Zimu had been dying to ask but dared not.

After dinner, they hired a driver. First, dropped off Huang Zimu. Then took Wang Yan and Zheng Qiudong to their new rented apartment—their stuff had already been delivered.

Wang Yan asked: “You really won’t let me stay with you?”

"Dream on. Get out," Xiong Qingchun pushed him. Her face, already flushed from alcohol, turned even redder. Wang Yan was always so direct—she was a person of the martial world, but even she couldn’t handle it.

“Call if anything comes up. Text when you get home. Don’t dream about me. I’m off,” Wang Yan laughed, letting himself be pushed out.

“Go on, driver—hurry up!”

Watching the car drive away, Zheng Qiudong asked Wang Yan, who was smoking beside him: “Brother Yan, you got this?”

“What do you mean? If you can’t, I can.”

“I mean you and Xiong Qingchun—I see no signs. If nothing comes of it, you’ve invested too much.”

“What kind of person do you think she is?”

“Her biggest trait? Boldness. She came after me with barely any info—only a sliver of advantage. If she’s not bold, no one is.”

“Normally, bold people aren’t shy around others, right?”

Zheng Qiudong recalled, then laughed. “So you two really have a shot.”

“Just a matter of time,” Wang Yan smiled, turning toward the residential complex.

“Good. I don’t think about anything else now—just make money.”

“You just haven’t met the right person yet. If Luo Yiren stood here now, tell me if you’d be nervous.”

Zheng Qiudong laughed. “Of course I would. But we were just not meant to be—I feel bad for her.”

“Don’t worry. From what I’ve seen, your fate’s about to cross hers—within a year or two.”

“How do you know?”

“Xia Jiguo won’t last. When he falls, Luo Yiren will be single again. If you truly care for her, you’ll have another chance.”

“How’d you figure that out?” Zheng Qiudong was eager.

“It’s complicated—involves many factors. If you’re patient, just wait.”

Wang Yan didn’t elaborate—he couldn’t say he’d watched the TV drama and knew Xia Jiguo would fall. He could’ve deduced it through data—but the information gap was too vast, too exhausting.

Zheng Qiudong’s fate had changed—or hadn’t. He was working with Wang Yan, but doing the same job. He’d still end up elsewhere, still connect with other characters—just later.

As for Luo Yiren, Wang Yan would nudge them together. They were a good match—neither judged the other’s past, both carried love in their hearts. Wang Yan preferred happy endings—but he’d accept anything.

The next day, Xiong Qingchun hired a lawyer, and the three signed the contract. Not even a week passed—only three days—the ad company vacated. Wang Yan’s group moved in immediately, buying secondhand office supplies.

Xiong Qingchun handled the company registration, ordered the signboard. Soon, “Yan Chunqiu Human Resources Service Co., Ltd.” was officially established—Xiong Qingchun as legal representative, Wang Yan as finance officer.

Due to criminal records, he and Zheng Qiudong couldn’t serve as legal reps for three years. But finance was fine—Wang Yan had no financial crimes on record, held an accounting license, and even had a CMA.

On the day the company launched, Xiong Qingchun pulled Wang Yan aside.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What’s so big? You’re acting mysterious.”

“I’m going to Hangzhou in the next couple days.”

“Oh, I get it.”

“What do you get? You just get it?” Xiong Qingchun didn’t understand his calm demeanor.

Wang Yan smiled. “Recent tensions exhausted you. You feel you can’t stay with your boyfriend, but you can’t let go of years of sweetness—you want closure. You know his mother’s the main obstacle, so you plan to go to Hangzhou and confront her. If she agrees, you reconsider. If not, you break up.”

“Your wide eyes say I’m right. Honestly, I think this trip is pointless—wastes money on flights, drains you. Don’t you see? Your boyfriend’s feelings aren’t firm. He didn’t fight his mother for you. Why should you fight her for him? What’s the point?”

“Marriage is about daily life—new problems will arise. If he wasn’t firm at the start, have you thought about the future?”

“No. I won’t rest until I go.”

“I understand. Years invested—sunk cost is high. But you know: once a relationship cracks, reconciliation is impossible. I guarantee you: this trip will bring only pain. But it’s your choice—if you want to suffer, I won’t stop you. Go. I’ll pack my things these two days—so I can move in when you return.”

“How did you go off track like that?”

“Off track?” Wang Yan stepped forward, lifted her chin with his finger, and stared into her startled eyes. “Isn’t your heart racing? That’s emotion—the most direct flutter of the heart.”

“All you know is to act like a thug.” Xiong Qingchun swatted his hand away irritably. “Huang Zimu’s got it all figured out—he can handle the handover. I’m leaving. Tell those two for me.”

“Don’t you want me to take you to the airport?”

“I’m leaving the car here. I’ll just hail a taxi—it’s easier. No need for you to run back and forth.”

“Stay safe. Call me if anything comes up.”

Xiong Qingchun waved her hand, leaving only her back to Wang Yan…