Chapter 971: A Small Trouble

In 1990s Shanghai—not just Shanghai, but anywhere—even after the harsh crackdown of the 1980s, several years had passed enough for evil to sprout again.

Wang Yan had set up his small barbecue stall on Huanghe Road for five days; the first day he sold three hundred skewers, then five hundred, six hundred, peaking at a thousand.

More than that wasn’t feasible, because a thousand skewers took Wang Yan, Jin Bao’s mother, and Teacher Ge half a day to thread. Grilling and selling them took another three hours. Though this wasn’t the limit of his stall, Wang Yan was already tired of it.

Even selling a thousand skewers netted him seven hundred a day. After deducting food and drink for the three of them plus his own cigarettes and alcohol, he still had six hundred left—but he didn’t want to do more. The incessant chattering of the waitresses waiting for their skewers, the endless repetition of grilling, made him restless.

“Boss Wang, you’re here!” Jing Xiu greeted him warmly, stepping forward to help unload the cart. “How many skewers today?”

“Still a thousand. I’ve got limited manpower—that’s all.”

“That’s a shame. Even two thousand wouldn’t fill Huanghe Road.”

Wang Yan smiled and asked, “Any inquiries about the seasoning?”

“Of course. Every boss on Huanghe Road sent someone over. I told them the truth.” Jing Xiu glanced at the queue, leaned closer. “But I think your trouble’s coming soon. Today’s the sixth day—everyone’s tried it. Someone’s bound to lose patience. That recipe’s in your hands; you sweat for a month and make twenty thousand. If it ends up in a big restaurant, who knows what’ll happen?”

Jing Xiu’s meaning was clear: a restaurant with a signature dish draws even more customers—and the ancillary spending is incalculable. If only one family on Huanghe Road held Wang Yan’s seasoning recipe, business would soar. With Jin Meilin, Hong Lu, or others, they could easily claim the top spot on the street.

Similarly, these past few days, Teacher Ge, sore from exhaustion, had said much the same, constantly warning Wang Yan to be careful.

“Even in my hands, it’ll never be twenty thousand,” Wang Yan shook his head with a light laugh.

Seeing Wang Yan wasn’t taking it seriously, Jing Xiu dropped the subject. He sensed Wang Yan carried confidence—but a street vendor selling lamb skewers, with nothing but a seasoning recipe, where did that confidence come from?

Wang Yan’s behavior was like a child walking through a crowded market with gold. It was dangerous. After all, the social truth was: what doesn’t belong to you isn’t yours. He couldn’t understand what Wang Yan was relying on. But he didn’t have to wait long to find out…

It was past nine. At the entrance of Huanghe Road, the long grill still brimmed with lamb skewers, wisps of smoke curling, aroma drifting far on the March evening breeze.

Boss Wang worked tirelessly, flipping skewers, occasionally brushing oil and sprinkling seasoning, walking from one end to the other and back again, endlessly busy.

At that moment, a group pushed through the crowd. The relaxed atmosphere instantly tightened; the chattering waitresses scattered, clearing a central space—convenient for the intruders to act, and for spectators to watch.

Further away, people drawn by the commotion began gathering, and within moments, the crowd formed three layers deep.

Wang Yan calmly gathered the charcoal to one side of the grill, moving all the skewers to the other, avoiding overcooking.

Among the dozen or so men who came to cause trouble, a young man in a loose suit, failing to project any dignity, stepped before Wang Yan: “Little brat, you’ve got guts. Selling lamb skewers here—did you ask anyone’s permission? My buddy ate your skewers yesterday and spent the whole day shitting. What do you say? I’m telling you, if I’m not satisfied today, don’t blame me for flipping your stall. If I accidentally hurt you, that’s too bad.”

Wang Yan finally separated the charcoal from the meat, turned, and smiled at Jing Xiu, who stood behind: “You really are a jinx.”

Jing Xiu returned a nervous, apologetic smile.

“I’m talking to you, didn’t you hear? Want to die?”

Wang Yan walked around the long grill and stood before the man.

“I’ll say it again—you—”

His words ended abruptly. The watching girls screamed in shock. No one expected Wang Yan to say nothing—he simply slapped the man across the face, sending him sprawling to the ground, rolling twice.

A young waitress in uniform felt something slap her face. She touched it, looked—there was a spot of crimson.

“Blood!” she shrieked, the cry piercing through the crowd.

But it didn’t faze Wang Yan. He didn’t wait for the remaining thugs to shout “Fuck him!”—he launched his attack immediately.

Everything happened in a blink, beyond anyone’s expectation. When the onlookers finally snapped back to reality, the troublemakers were all lying on the ground groaning.

People met Wang Yan’s sweeping gaze and instinctively stepped back two paces. A murmur rippled through the crowd. Someone inevitably got stepped on; those behind didn’t even know what happened and started cursing loudly—chaos erupted.

Wang Yan walked up to the young man in the suit, still sitting dazed on the ground, clutching his face and groaning. He gave him a light kick, then stomped on his ankle.

“If you scream, I’ll break your leg.”

“Ahh… uh…” The young man’s cry choked off into a pained grunt, as if his throat had been clamped shut.

“Who sent you?”

“Big brother, it’s a misunderstanding! He said… ah…”

Wang Yan pressed harder with his foot: “Last chance.”

“Du Honggen! It was Du Honggen—he paid us a thousand to come bother you.”

“Who’s Du Honggen? Is he here?” Wang Yan loosened his foot and scanned the crowd.

The crowd buzzed, but no one answered.

Seeing Wang Yan’s gaze turn toward him, Jing Xiu shook his head and waved his hands, signaling he wanted no trouble.

Wang Yan stepped back on the young man’s ankle: “Tell me—who is Du Honggen, and what’s his connection here?”

“He… he’s got some connection with Jin Meilin’s boss lady. I bet it’s her.”

Wang Yan nodded, satisfied, and walked straight toward a spot barely twenty meters away—Jin Meilin, its sign large and bold. The restaurant’s boss lady, plump Lu Meilin, her hair tightly curled and pinned, draped in fur, dripping in jewels, stood at the entrance watching the spectacle.

She was far back, the crowd thick—she hadn’t seen how it unfolded. But as Wang Yan moved forward, the crowd parted, revealing the dozen men sprawled on the ground. She also saw Wang Yan walking straight toward her.

She felt a flicker of fear and instinctively stepped back—but didn’t want to appear weak, so she stepped forward again, glaring defiantly at Wang Yan as he reached her.

“What? You want trouble? Listen, I’m Lu Meilin—I wasn’t raised to be scared. Whatever you want, I’ll take it.” She shouted loudly.

Wang Yan reflected on his long life—he hadn’t killed many, but he’d never hit a woman. If he had, it was only playful pats on the rear during flirtation…

“Don’t put on airs. I won’t hit you—hitting women is pointless. Once. Never again.” Wang Yan waved his hand, pulled out a Huazhi cigarette, lit it, and blew smoke directly into Lu Meilin’s face.

“This is a market economy, not a bandit economy. If you want my recipe, just say so. No need to send thugs to harass people, forcing me to sell it—that’s low. Lucky for you, I’m generous. Let me be clear: I won’t sell the recipe. But I’ve always planned to sell the pre-mixed seasoning. These past few days of street grilling? That was for you to see.”

“My seasoning’s good—otherwise you wouldn’t be doing this. It works on lamb, beef, pork—any grilled meat—and won’t mask the original flavor. One packet sells for ten yuan, enough for about a hundred lamb skewers. Your restaurants are big—you can easily hire another grill master. Will you buy?”

Lu Meilin stared at Wang Yan’s smiling face, processing his strategy.

First, set up a stall on Huanghe Road, using the delicious lamb skewers to draw crowds. Then, provoke others to covet the recipe, and Shunshi propose selling the pre-mixed seasoning. Thus, shifting from street vendor to seasoning supplier.

The key point: if even one restaurant on this street bought it, within three days, every single one would have to. At least for now, since Wang Yan had sparked the grilled meat trend, customers here preferred eating skewers with drinks. If Wang Yan never returned to the street, whoever had his seasoning would thrive.

If they didn’t buy his seasoning and didn’t add grilled skewers, they’d have to wait until this barbecue craze faded before returning to normal. By then, who knew how many of the hundred restaurants on this street would be gone.

On the other hand, selling him the seasoning meant that once Huanghe Road accepted it, slowly but surely, every larger restaurant would have to accept it—no choice.

And all of this stemmed from Wang Yan’s possession of an irreplaceable, explosively delicious dry seasoning recipe—that was the advantage of controlling core technology. A shitty seasoning, sold at ten yuan a packet, used at least one packet daily? That’s robbery. Wages are so low now; Wang Yan dares to charge more per packet than many earn in a day. Isn’t that robbery?

Lu Meilin still glared, but her voice had dropped considerably: “Ten packets first.”

“Pay.”

Looking at the crowd gathered around, Lu Meilin exhaled deeply, turned, and ordered a waitress to bring a hundred yuan.

“I’ll deliver it tomorrow morning,” Wang Yan shook the money in his hand, shoved it into his pocket, and said, “Also, tell Du Honggen that if I see him, I’ll make him lose all his teeth.”

“It was me who sent him. I’m at fault for bothering you. I apologize. You’ve already beaten them—they’re still down. I accept it. I’m the first to buy your seasoning. No need to wait till tomorrow—when you return to grilling, every boss here will come to buy. We’re all just trying to make a living. No need to kill each other. Let’s get rich together. How do we make this right?”

“No wonder you run such a big restaurant.” Wang Yan nodded with a smile, raising only his ring finger. “Ten thousand.”

“Fair. I’ll have someone bring it to you right away.”

“Then it’s settled. Happy cooperation, Boss Lady.”

Wang Yan patted Lu Meilin’s arm, turned, and walked away smiling.

Lu Meilin watched his back, unable to suppress another heavy sigh. Trying to bully someone, only to be bullied herself—this taste was bitter.

Wang Yan’s strength was obvious—he’d taken down over a dozen alone. He said Du Honggen would be left crawling for teeth—Du Honggen couldn’t escape. Though Du Honggen had some power, he couldn’t withstand Wang Yan’s attention. Even if Du Honggen truly wanted to kill Wang Yan, who’d end up dead was uncertain.

Du Honggen lived by his face. If Wang Yan beat him into crawling for teeth, anyone with even a shred of pride couldn’t survive in Shanghai anymore—he’d have no place. And Du Honggen was standing up for her, Lu Meilin; she ran her restaurant with his backing, so she had to protect his dignity.

Compared to that, Wang Yan had been very courteous—only asking for ten thousand. For Lu Meilin, it was a slight sting, nothing serious.

“Alright, everyone, disperse! You lot, stop groaning on the ground—get up and leave! Queue again! Last thousand skewers—I won’t be back tomorrow.”

Wang Yan shouted, returned to the grill, spread the charcoal, and resumed grilling.

Many wanted to ask how it all unfolded, but none dared. Jing Xiu approached: “Boss Wang, you trained in martial arts?”

He stopped calling him Boss Wang and reverted to Brother Wang.

“Not really. Just know a couple moves.”

“I’m not being disloyal, it’s just…”

“You’re still going to stick around here—I know. Besides, we’ve only known each other six days. Even if you were loyal, it wouldn’t make sense to be loyal to me. We’re strangers. You let me set up my stall beside your shop, helped me clean every day—that’s already more than enough. If I held a grudge against you, I’d be heartless. How could I ever survive after that?”

Jing Xiu nodded, then asked: “Brother Wang, I saw Lu Meilin give you money just now. Can you tell me how it ended?”

“Can’t you hold back your gossip?”

“I’m just curious,” Jing Xiu laughed sheepishly.

“Jin Meilin just paid me a hundred yuan for ten packets of seasoning. And for the Du Honggen incident, they paid me ten thousand as compensation. See? Here it is. Lu Meilin may be dirty, but she knows how to stand firm after getting hit.”

“Boss Wang, our boss lady sent this for you.” A Jin Meilin waitress approached with a slightly thicker envelope.

“Thank your boss lady for me.”

Wang Yan took the envelope, waved it at Jing Xiu, then slipped it into his pocket with a smile.

“Lao jiegun!” Jing Xiu gave a thumbs-up. “Brother Wang, you’re fucking awesome.”

He asked again: “Brother Wang, you said you won’t come back tomorrow—where are you going next?”

“Huanghe Road, Zhapu Road, Yunnan South Road—only these three streets have money. I’ll develop all three—get them to sell grilled skewers using my seasoning. Three hundred restaurants, ten yuan each, that’s three thousand a day.”

“Trends fade, Brother Wang. Not everyone will keep doing it.”

“My seasoning isn’t valuable—but no one makes it as delicious as I do. If someone stops, someone else will take over. It balances out. Besides, people are getting richer day by day. I lower prices to increase sales—it’s the same thing.”

“No problem. Now Huanghe Road is open, I’ve got enough money to open my own shop. In ten or fifteen days, I’ll truly be Boss Wang—Shanghai wasn’t wasted. You say trends fade—I say one wave follows another. Jing Xiu, can I ride the next wave?”

“Oh my, Brother Wang—you’ll go from Boss Wang to Boss Wang Zong!” Jing Xiu gave three titles in one sentence—quite clever.

Wang Yan smiled, tilted his head as Jing Xiu lit his cigarette, and kept working, flipping the lamb skewers endlessly. The aroma once again spread, drifting seven hundred and fifty-five meters down Huanghe Road…

“Why buy so little meat today?”

As usual, Teacher Ge woke early and saw Wang Yan returning with lamb—far less than before.

“Moving locations. To Zhapu Road. Three hundred skewers will do.”

“Oh my, Huanghe Road was going so well—seven hundred a day, unimaginable. Why…?” Teacher Ge suddenly froze. “Wait—did you get into trouble? Did they ban you?”

“I heard a secret to long life and health.”

“What secret?”

“Mind your own business.”

“Little Northeast, do you have any conscience? Oh my, these past two days I’ve been threading skewers for you, my back aches. If I didn’t help you, could you make seven hundred?”

“You’re full of it—two taels of Maotai a day? For that price, I can hire someone who’s twice as efficient as you, old man.”

Teacher Ge was deeply hurt: “Little Northeast, I really misjudged you. I never thought you’d say something like this. Don’t you remember seven days ago? Back then, I…”

“Stop.” Wang Yan waved his hand. “You’ve got plenty of houses—any shops?”

“Well, I do have a shop… but I won’t rent it to you—you’ve got no conscience.”

“Now you’re throwing a tantrum? Let me tell you this.” Wang Yan recounted the events on Huanghe Road the day before, pulling out the envelope from Lu Meilin. “This is the compensation payment from Jin Meilin’s boss lady. From now on, Huanghe Road sells only barbecue seasoning. Didn’t you see all those spices in my van? I need to register as an individual business with proper paperwork. Once we expand to Zhapu Road and Yunnan South Road, I’ll sell seasonings exclusively—three thousand a day.”

“You can make money, but you’ve got to live to spend it. Who are these people you’re messing with? When you’re out in the world, better to avoid trouble—suffering is fortune.”

“I say avoiding trouble only invites more. Once you start taking losses, you’ll be swallowing them your whole life—until you choke, old man. I’ve got nothing but this worthless life. Whoever targets me, I’ll dig up their ancestors’ graves—that’s the real code of the Jianghu, Teacher Ge.”

“You’ll end up tossed into the Huangpu River to feed the fish.”

“Even if Du Yuesheng were here, I’d be the one tossing him in.”

“Youthful arrogance, clueless about depth.” Teacher Ge waved his hand. “I do have a shop—across from Night Tokyo, it expires next month. There’s also a tiny shop at the corner, twenty square meters, still unrented. Perfect for mixing your barbecue seasoning. I’ll rent it cheap—fifty yuan a month, same as before.”

Wang Yan opened the envelope, counted the money, then slapped it into Teacher Ge’s hand: “Here’s eleven hundred. I’m paying you a year’s rent—for the shop and the room I’m staying in.”

“Then I’ll take it,” Teacher Ge said. “If you can’t make it, I’ll refund you.” He glanced at the thick envelope, then, surprisingly straightforward, stuffed the money into his pocket without another word.

“Now you’re being practical.” Wang Yan chuckled, shaking his head, then pulled various seasonings from the van. “No need to skewer today—grab the mortar and grind the powder. We’ll grind together. All the seasoning must reach Huanghe Road before dinner.”

“Oh my, this is even more exhausting than skewering. Where’s your money coming from? I swear you’re just profiting off my old bones.”

“See? Back to the same old song. Who else pays two taels of Maotai a day for labor? Get moving—you start working and immediately start complaining.”

“I’m raising your rent.”

“Joking? I’m a ten-thousand-yuan household now—you know what that means.”

“Little Northeast, you’ve got no conscience. When you first came, you were alone—don’t you remember how I…”

To be honest, Wang Yan hadn’t originally planned to sell barbecue. He’d just been listening to Teacher Ge’s grumbling, and it reminded him of the idea. Low cost, high profit, and he had the recipe—so he went ahead with it.

Things are going well now. Barbecue didn’t bring in much, but the compensation payment netted him ten thousand—his business was suddenly launched.

As Lu Meilin had predicted, once she bought the seasoning, half the vendors on Huanghe Road followed suit. The barbecue masters became the hottest commodity on the street. Everyone scrambled to be first to serve barbecue.

Wang Yan became famous overnight on Huanghe Road—literally overnight. After all, one man taking on over a dozen, standing alone until Lu Meilin bowed her head and paid up—regardless of whether Du Honggen would retaliate later, at least right now he hadn’t made a single sound. Wang Yan was a man—and a ruthless one.

As a result, the next day, while setting up his stall on Zhapu Road, police officers came to find him.

“You’re Wang Yan?”

“Yes, Officer. What can I help you with?”

Two of them arrived; the older one said, “From Huangpu Branch. We’re here to gather some information.”

“You mean the fight I had on Huanghe Road two days ago?” Wang Yan grinned, understanding fully. He pulled out ten lamb skewers, five in each hand, and offered them. “If you want info, first taste my lamb skewers. Officers, try them—free, no charge.”

“No way. Too many people watching. I couldn’t explain it later. One yuan per skewer, right? Here’s ten yuan—take it.”

“No need for so much. To be honest, each skewer costs me twenty-five fen.”

“You’re shady.” But the officer insisted. “You sell them for a yuan—I can’t give you two-fifty, that’d look bad. This is fine. It’s not costing you much in lost sales.”

Wang Yan said nothing. He walked aside with the two officers, pulled out a Huazhi cigarette, offered one—they refused—then lit one himself, smiling as he watched them eat the skewers.

“Taste good? The other seventy-five fen? That’s for this flavor. Only I make it—no branches.”

Without being asked, Wang Yan began talking: “Plainly put, they wanted my recipe. Tried to scare me into handing it over. Luckily, I learned a few tricks since childhood—tall, strong, and I took them all down. Here’s my ID. Now it’s a market economy—here everything’s booming, but back home, everyone’s laid off, no big money to be made.”

“My parents passed early, no relatives, no wife, no kids. So I made up my mind and came south to make my fortune. I’m clean—I didn’t run away from trouble back home. You can check. Also, Lu Meilin gave me ten thousand as compensation—no, actually, it’s for emotional damages. She sent people to smash my stall and steal my recipe. A little cash is only fair.”

“You’re quite clear-headed.” The officer smiled, looking at the ID. After eating one skewer, he already understood the situation.

“Self-aware.”

“Just gathering information—nothing else. You’re in Shanghai now? Do good business. If you’ve got skills, be more careful. Don’t solve problems with violence—you can’t handle the consequences, and we don’t want to see them, understood?”

“Crystal clear. I came to make money, not to get shot. Don’t worry, Officer—I’ll be law-abiding.”

The officers recorded Wang Yan’s ID and current address, then left, still munching skewers. They probably felt a bit guilty—after all, one yuan per skewer was truly expensive.

Wang Yan was now officially registered—mainly because the incident was too big. Though no one had called the police, everyone on Huanghe Road and nearby knew. They had to look into it. A normal fight among a few people? Ignored. But now? Also ignored—just as he said: gathering information. Probably had something to do with Du Honggen too—that kid didn’t look right.

“Come on, come on—only fifty skewers left! Sell out and pack up.”

It was just a minor detour. Wang Yan kept working hard. He didn’t set up on Zhapu Road or Yunnan South Road for long—only a week total. Because he was famous on Huanghe Road, barbecue was now on every table there, and the response was overwhelmingly positive—more diners came to Huanghe Road.

So people on these two roads already knew Wang Yan well. His business there was going smoothly. And so, he no longer sold barbecue.

These past few days, he’d visited the Industry and Commerce Bureau, registered as an individual business, and opened a shop. The name? Nothing creative—“Long Teng Seasoning.” The volume of orders was so huge, even Teacher Ge couldn’t keep up. Through Teacher Ge’s referral, he hired one man and one woman as employees. Wang Yan handled the seasoning blends himself; the other man used Wang Yan’s tricycle for deliveries, and when free, helped process ingredients.

The recipe was never to be revealed—Wang Yan mixed everything himself, since this was how he made his money. As for the future? He could reveal it then.

Wang Yan also installed a phone. Restaurants called directly to place orders—delivery and payment on the spot.

Performance was excellent. Though not every restaurant on the three roads ordered, other places had some good ones—altogether, two hundred and forty establishments. They found that even mediocre barbecue masters could make tasty food with this seasoning. All they needed was a grill, some charcoal, and a bit of space—nothing else changed. Diners could skip it, but restaurants couldn’t do without it.

Some restaurants used just a little; others pursued excellence and prepared meticulously—so diners ordered more, and it added up to more than just one bag. Overall, daily income still exceeded three thousand yuan. Monthly earnings? Easily over one hundred thousand. And this was March 1990.

He hadn’t even launched his Dali Pills yet. People back then hadn’t been worn down—just a little hype and it’d sell like crazy. And he knew the pills actually worked. A cheat’s life was this easy…

Wang Yan saw little of Lingzi. One was the idle owner waiting to open shop; the other was the exhausted entrepreneur—two parallel lines. He’d met her four times since arriving. This was the fifth.

“Oh my, I never expected—less than half a month, and you’re already Boss Wang. Looks like your gimmick worked.”

Lingzi, with her short hair, wore a black coat, high heels, and makeup—still dazzling. She leaned against the shop door, swaying her umbrella, blocking the weak light of the overcast day.

“Lingzi, you’re here.” Teacher Ge straightened his aching back.

“You’re blocking the light, Boss Lady,” Wang Yan said.

“It’s overcast—we need the lights.”

“Teacher Ge’s saving me money—he says I can see fine.”

“Get out, get out—I didn’t give you a discount on rent!” Teacher Ge turned and switched on the shop’s bulb.

The dim light illuminated the shop’s gloom, revealing everyone with their mortars grinding away. The glow fell on Lingzi’s face, softly clear.

Wang Yan said: “Hey, Teacher Ge—see? Lingzi stands there, so beautiful.”

“Of course she’s beautiful. She’s over thirty, looks twenty-something.”

…

Seeing Lingzi’s sudden frown and Wang Yan’s grinning face, Teacher Ge waved his hands frantically: “Lingzi, I didn’t mean you’re old—I meant…”

“I told you—you’ll get yourself in trouble with that mouth.” Wang Yan laughed. “Lingzi, when’s Night Tokyo opening?”

“Oh right, Lingzi, hurry up and open! His food’s awful—I’m sore all over every day, I’m gonna die!”

“The day after tomorrow. Come all and show your support.”

“We’ll be there,” Teacher Ge nodded eagerly.

Wang Yan nodded with a smile beside him.

“Boss Wang, how’s your business going?”

“Pretty good.”

“Oh my, you don’t know, Lingzi—he’s made it big…” Teacher Ge, ever talkative, spilled every detail of Wang Yan’s story to Lingzi.

But Lingzi’s focus wasn’t on Wang Yan fighting thugs—even if he took on a dozen. What mattered more to her was income.

Holding a bag of packaged seasoning, she exclaimed: “You sell each bag for ten yuan—and make three thousand a day?”

“About that,” Wang Yan smiled and nodded.

“Costs a yuan?”

“Seventy-five fen.”

“Tenfold markup? Are you robbing people?”

“Selling seasoning is safer.”

Wang Yan’s witty reply didn’t make Lingzi laugh. She said: “You really could be Boss Wang.”

“Thanks for the good words. Let’s get rich together.”

“When Night Tokyo opens, give me some. When the weather warms up, eating barbecue outside is still the best.”

“Take it—no need to be polite.”

Lingzi nodded, sighed: “Teacher Ge, is the shop across from Night Tokyo still unrented?”

“Yes. What do you want to do?”

“I have a friend in Japan—she’s coming back. She wrote me saying she wants to open a jewelry and cosmetics shop. The space across the street is perfect—I’ll let her take it. I’ll also reserve a room for her—I’ll pay you in advance.”

“Wait until she arrives. What if she doesn’t like it? No rush.”

“Then find a room for her—she needs a place to live. I’ll get it ready first. Come on, let’s go see the place.”

“I’m off then, Little Northeast—help Lingzi tidy up. I’ll come back for lunch—make sure there’s meat…”

Wang Yan chuckled, waving him off—tell the old man to hurry up…