Chapter 972

Night Tokyo opened, bustling and noisy.

“Lingzi, I’ve got your back—I got you two flower baskets.” Tao Tao, dressed in a leather jacket and clutching a leather briefcase, loudly made his presence known before Lingzi.

“If you’re going to say that, then I’m even more generous—I brought four.”

The speaker was Abao, no longer the same man Wang Yan had seen here last time. He wore a tailored suit, sharp leather oxfords, and a slicked-back pompadour—every inch a successful man.

“You should be generous—it’s you who…”

“Enough, enough, let’s get inside.” Abao knew exactly what Tao Tao was about to say—it made him uncomfortable—and quickly pushed him into the shop.

Lingzi smiled gently, watching Abao’s back. She had always wanted to open a shop named Night Tokyo. Now that it was open, she was the owner, and the man who made it happen was Abao—the same man she’d met only once two years ago. Looking back, it had been an unforgettable encounter.

“Lingzi, congratulations on your grand opening.”

“May you get rich, rich, rich.”

Ge Laoshi walked ahead, Wang Yan followed behind, carrying two flower baskets and a bag. He set the baskets upright by the entrance.

“Lingzi, Night Tokyo is finally open.”

Lingzi laughed: “It’s open, it’s open—everyone come every day now.”

“Sounds like I’m neglecting you.” Wang Yan waved the bag of barbecue seasoning at her. “This much seasoning will last you a year of daily barbecue.”

“Perfect, thank you, Boss Wang. Take it to the kitchen monks. If you’re really bored, you can grill some skewers yourself—I already prepped plenty, just like yours, all marinated and threaded.”

“Did Ge Laoshi slip you my marinade recipe?”

Wang Yan shot him a sidelong glance. Ge Laoshi refused to look, waving his hands frantically: “I didn’t, I didn’t…”

“Oh come on, you don’t even do barbecue anymore—don’t be so stingy. I’m focusing on Shanghai cuisine and some Japanese dishes; barbecue’s just for variety. Your barbecue’s delicious—I tried making it myself with your seasoning, but it just wasn’t the same. So I have to ask: how do you make your barbecue? Ge Laoshi’s a good guy—he helped me out. You’ll come eat here every day, right? We’re all family.”

Wang Yan shook his head: “You say that, and I can’t just eat for free. Fine, I’ll lend a hand today. Come on, old man—you’ve got no filter at all.”

“You don’t do barbecue anymore, and you won’t grill for me—so where am I supposed to get my fix?”

“So it’s all for yourself? What did I tell you? Old age demands restraint—you don’t just ignore it, you double down. You’ll regret it someday. Wait till you’re lying in a hospital…”

“I’m perfectly healthy—you’re the one ending up in the hospital.” Ge Laoshi ignored Wang Ba’s sermon and walked faster than ever, striding straight inside.

“Oh, Boss Bao’s already here.”

“I’m a shareholder—I had to come early. Ge Laoshi, welcome, welcome!”

“Hey, what about me? You didn’t even see me!” Tao Tao felt ignored.

“Not your turn yet.” Ge Laoshi groaned. “Little Northeast, let me introduce you—this is Boss Bao, the big boss, very powerful.”

“I’m nowhere near as impressive—just running a small business. Call me Abao.”

“Wang Yan. Boss Bao, please take care of me.” Wang Yan raised the seasoning bag. “I’ll go grill some lamb skewers—try my skills.”

“Thank you,” Abao said politely.

“No, I’m the one troubling you—Boss Lady told me I can eat for free with Ge Laoshi from now on.”

“Everyone’s family—help yourselves to food and drink.”

“Boss Bao is generous.”

Wang Yan gave a thumbs-up and headed to the kitchen with the bag of seasoning.

“Hey, spaced out?” Abao waved his hand in front of dazed Tao Tao.

“Thinking of girls?” Ge Laoshi sat there, utterly unprofessional.

“Get lost—I’ve got a wife. Who are you, always lusting after young girls?” Tao Tao shot back, then, before Ge Laoshi could reply, added: “He said his name is Wang Yan, right? I feel like I’ve heard that name before.”

Ge Laoshi grunted: “Of course you heard it on Huanghe Road.”

“Huanghe Road? Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes…” Tao Tao jumped to his feet. “So he’s the one who sold lamb skewers on Huanghe Road, got targeted by Jin Meilin’s boss lady for his recipe, had gangsters smash his stall—but he took down over a dozen guys single-handedly, then extorted ten thousand yuan in hush money from Jin Meilin?”

“That’s him,” Abao nodded with a smile.

Tao Tao expressed strong displeasure: “Oh come on, you knew all along? Why didn’t you tell me? Abao, you’re not being loyal.”

Abao waved him off dismissively: “What’s the point of talking about that?”

“What’s not to talk about? He knows so many restaurant bosses—introduce me to some, and I’ll get rich!”

“Didn’t I introduce you? Hong Lu, Jin Fenghuang, and over twenty other restaurants—aren’t those enough for you to make money?”

“Boss Bao’s right—greed invites disaster. Don’t think you can take advantage of everyone.” Ge Laoshi leaned in, whispering: “You don’t know who he’s pissed off? He can fight, sure—but if you get him to introduce you to business, and someone later comes looking for trouble, they won’t find him—they’ll come after you.”

“Who doesn’t know I, Tao Tao, am the most loyal guy around?”

“I’m not so sure.”

“I’m not talking to you.” Tao Tao glared at Ge Laoshi, then instantly switched to a smile, rushing outside to find Wang Yan grilling lamb skewers.

“Boss Wang, let me introduce myself—I’m Tao Tao, seafood vendor on Guliling Road. Abao and I grew up together, bare-assed buddies. Here’s my card.”

Wang Yan took the card with a smile, glanced at the header, then slipped it into his pocket.

“Hello. I don’t have a card, but my shop’s right there at the corner—Long Teng Seasoning is mine.”

“Abao just said we’re all family. I, Tao Tao, am the most loyal guy around—if you ever need anything, just say the word—I’ll jump through fire and water for you.”

“Thanks, Tao Tao.”

He’d mentioned Long Teng Seasoning was his but hadn’t followed up with “come to me if you need help.” Now that Tao Tao had declared his loyalty, Wang Yan still didn’t say anything similar—it was awkward.

But Tao Tao didn’t mind. If he didn’t say it, he’d bring it up himself.

He said: “I heard you supply barbecue seasoning to Huanghe Road, Zhapu Road, and Yunnan South Road?”

“Here it is—I brought it. Works for barbecue, grilled meat. This skewer’s done—try it.”

“Mmm, delicious, delicious! Boss Wang’s skill is top-notch—no wonder you caused such a sensation. Everyone’s craving barbecue now.” Tao Tao didn’t care about the heat—he took a huge bite, nodding vigorously, praising the lamb skewers and the barbecue craze Wang Yan had sparked.

He continued: “Boss Wang, you supply so many restaurants and have a reputation—can you talk to those bosses?”

“You want me to introduce you to supply seafood?”

Seeing him nod eagerly, Wang Yan shook his head and laughed, chewing on a skewer: “You overestimate me. Do you know how much I charge per pack?”

“I heard it’s ten yuan a pack?”

“Exactly ten yuan. That means my relationship with those bosses is worth ten yuan—maybe thirty or fifty yuan in business. But you want me to introduce you to daily deals worth hundreds or thousands? Do you think that’s possible?”

“But your reputation on Huanghe Road—can’t you charge fifty?”

“Thirty or fifty is already raised. Do you think I’m a thug? I point a gun at their heads if they won’t deal? What are you thinking?”

Wang Yan placed the grilled lamb skewers on a plate, handed it to Tao Tao, who was still stunned: “What are you standing there for? Take it inside.”

“Then remember me in the future.”

“I will. Hurry up.”

Tao Tao finally turned, disappointed, carrying the plate inside to serve.

This version of Boss Bao wasn’t the one from three years later—he hadn’t reached thirty million. Likewise, Shanghai wasn’t the Shanghai of three years later. The rich people now weren’t the rich people of three years later.

With a net worth of a few hundred thousand, Boss Bao was truly impressive. At a time when people worked themselves to exhaustion for barely two hundred yuan a month, and layoffs had just begun, Boss Bao was a true pioneer of wealth.

So Night Tokyo’s opening drew a moderate crowd—limited by the shop’s size. Besides Wang Yan and Ge Laoshi, most were Abao’s friends: Postage Li, Little Ningbo, and others Wang Yan had met.

Abao ran his restaurant like a godfather. People seeking favors could find him—if they knew how, they’d find him; if they didn’t, they’d come to Night Tokyo. Lingzi served as a buffer—whether to meet or not, there was room for thought, no one offended.

Wang Yan grilled a mountain of barbecue and received unanimous praise. Finally, he sat with Ge Laoshi in the corner, sampling the food.

Honestly, it was just average—typical restaurant quality. The young monk chef’s skill was about level three.

Everyone had been introduced. Even though Wang Yan had been outside grilling and hadn’t mingled at first, thanks to Tao Tao and Ge Laoshi’s boasting, Abao’s circle now knew Wang Yan wasn’t just a lamb skewer vendor.

He’d made a name for himself on Huanghe Road, forced Jin Meilin’s boss lady to pay hush money, silenced notorious thug Du Honggen, and now earned three thousand yuan daily, one hundred thousand monthly, one million annually—all in just half a month. A man from the Northeast, alone and unconnected, had achieved this—no one could underestimate him.

“Boss Wang, I’m Postage Li. The very first stock Boss Bao bought was Electric Vacuum—I sold it to him.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Wang Yan nodded with a smile, clinked glasses, then asked: “What do you do now?”

“Now I work with Boss Bao—occasionally trade stocks, occasionally flip treasury bonds. Interested?”

I’ve heard a lot of people are trading state bonds now; I don’t know much else, but I know any business gets hard when too many people jump in.

What can you do? You’ve got to eat, so you just keep flipping back and forth. You don’t know how complicated it is out there—carrying tens of thousands around every day? Oh my, you’re scared out of your wits, it’s wearing years off your life. But you’re perfect for it—you can take on a dozen guys at once, nothing scares you out there.

Is this business—or is it risking your life?

Money is business. Money is life. What’s that song again?

“Ai bia cai ai ya.” Wang Yan smiled and prompted.

“That’s right, that’s right—you’ve got to fight to win! Want to make money? You’ve got to gamble. Want to make big money? You’ve got to risk your life.” Postage Li spoke with great flair.

Wang Yan chuckled and changed the subject: “How’s the stock market these days?”

“It’s lukewarm—market makers clean up. Here, Qilin Association is top dog; whether we make or lose money, they decide.”

“What does ‘Qilin Association’ mean?” Wang Yan feigned ignorance.

“It’s a few powerful guys pooling their capital, moving together—we call it a fleet. Like us and Bao Zong—we’re a fleet too, but we don’t have nearly as much money as Qilin Association.”

“What if I bought some stocks too?”

“Not a good idea,” Postage Li shook his head. “I heard you’ve only been in Shanghai half a month—even if you’re making three thousand a day now, you still don’t have much cash. Throw a few ten-thousands in, and you might not even earn as much as you do in a single day. If you lose, it’s gone for good. My advice? Keep building. Your seasonings are great—expand. Open a factory, ship to Beijing, Shenzhen—there are plenty of rich people there. You’ll make big money.”

He spoke plainly, no intent to deceive Wang Yan. All he said was just small talk, puffing himself up. The real legend was Bao Zong, not Postage Li. In actual net worth, Postage Li was poorer than Wang Yan—Wang Yan was now a millionaire-per-year player, he’d just gotten rich in a few days and hadn’t cashed in yet.

Wang Yan nodded, clinked his cup with him, acknowledging Postage Li’s goodwill, then said: “Before I met Bao Zong, Teacher Ge and Lingzi already told me about stocks—it made me itch to see them. Wasn’t Bao Zong’s first stock Electric Vacuum?”

I heard he lost three thousand on it, but there’s still luck involved. Let me borrow Bao Zong’s luck—buy me ten thousand yuan worth of Electric Vacuum. If I lose, don’t blame you; if I win, I’ll treat you all to drinks.

Bao Zong, you don’t mind, right?”

“Wang Boss, you’re joking—I mind? It’s you not being afraid of my bad luck that matters.” Bao Zong and the others had been listening; he laughed. “But I’m actually bullish on the current market—Jing’an Index is rising. Rumor also says the state will reform, no longer just testing, but truly establishing a stock financial system. Overall, long-term, you should make money.”

Postage Li, go buy Wang Boss some Electric Vacuum later. We’ll wait for Wang Boss to treat us to drinks. But Wang Boss—I’m warning you, it’s Maotai we’re drinking.”

“I’m warning you too—it’s got to be at my place,” Lingzi added.

“It’s settled then. I’ll watch for half a year. Come on, drink up, drink up—may we all get rich!” Wang Yan raised his cup with a smile.

Bao Zong’s judgment was good—but also wrong. It wasn’t that long-term gains were likely; it was certain he’d make a fortune. This year, Shanghai saw a bull market. From May to September, the Jing’an Index rose from 100 points to 300. And the Electric Vacuum stock Wang Yan bought surged from 90 yuan to 500 yuan.

It was now late March—meaning in just six months, Wang Yan’s hundred thousand yuan would become five hundred thousand. This was pure profit, not money he’d earned by fiddling with seasonings.

As for where he got the hundred thousand, those restaurants don’t buy a pack a day like that. He’s been looking at machines lately, planning to use one to grind the powder…

The guests all had a great time; after they left, Wang Yan and Teacher Ge returned home, taking Postage Li along to collect the money. Wang Yan was straightforward—he pulled out a hundred thousand from home.

“This is a hundred thousand yuan—you’d have to work hard for thirty years to earn that. Aren’t you afraid I’ll take your money and run?” Postage Li hugged the cash and joked with Wang Yan.

“Then everyone in that room just now was blind.”

“Haha. Leave it to me—you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll collect the vacuum tubes for you these next few days. When you’re ready, treat us to drinks.”

“After you collect them, leave the receipts with me—no need to keep running back and forth. Come September, just hand them over directly.”

Postage Li nodded: “Alright then, Boss Wang.”

Wang Yan saw him all the way downstairs before returning to his room upstairs.

“You really bought it? That’s a hundred thousand!” Teacher Ge hadn’t left. Seeing Wang Yan return, he hurriedly said, “If you’ve changed your mind, go catch him—he’s still within reach.”

“I can earn that much in a month. What if I lose it all? Teacher Ge, broaden your horizons. You keep talking about your coffin money—but coffin money is meant to be spent. If you’re this stingy, it’s no fun.”

“But you’re eating meat every meal and drinking two taels of Maotai daily!”

“You’re saving your own money at my expense? Oh come on, Teacher Ge, you’ve got quite the abacus. Now you’re saying this because you’re planning to eat at Lingzi’s from now on, right? Fine—you’ve got no conscience at all.”

“No conscience? Little Northeast, be clear: I’ve cut your rent a lot, and I’ve been worn out cooking for you every day—I still have back pain. I haven’t even asked you for medical bills, so I’ve been more than generous!”

“You old rascal, always counting pennies with me. Tonight, you’re not drinking my Maotai.”

“Aren’t you going to eat dinner at Lingzi’s?”

“Even if I go, I won’t give you a sip. If you want to drink, buy your own.”

“Stingy. You’re such a big boss—arguing over two taels of liquor?”

Wang Yan shook his head, amused. After a few playful bickers, he dragged Teacher Ge off to do manual labor.

Teacher Ge was a decent guy—just had a big mouth…

In the Longteng Seasoning shop on Jinxian Road, once powered and connected, the machine in the center hummed to life. Wang Yan pulled out a bag of raw material and poured it through the feed opening. Soon, the ground powder slid out the discharge port and back into the bag.

He pressed the button to stop the machine. The room fell quiet. Wang Yan took a handful from the bag, feeling the particle size, then shook his head: “Still not fine enough—but good enough to use. See how I operate it? You know how to use electricity safely—no need for me to explain. This machine doesn’t care about people—it’s sharp inside. Stick your hand in, and it’s gone in an instant. No matter how urgent, always cut the power first.”

Jinbao’s mother nodded: “We know.”

“Especially you—watch your little fat boy. Don’t let him go poking around. If he loses a hand, you’ll be the one crying, not me.” Wang Yan singled out Jinbao’s mother.

Little Fat Boy was indeed a bit shy, but once comfortable, he was lively and just as mischievous.

Jinbao’s mother nodded: “If he misbehaves, I’ll beat him.”

“Always supervise when using the machine—don’t get careless,” Wang Yan added again.

One reason was the machine’s quality, the other the building’s aging wiring—both uncontrollable factors.

Teacher Ge rubbed his aching lower back: “Oh my, Little Northeast, now you’ve got the machine—does that mean I don’t have to work anymore?”

“Didn’t I tell you? You need more exercise.”

“Don’t fool me, Little Northeast. Exercise means working your arms and legs—not sitting there pushing a mortar all day. Oh my back—I’m cursed for knowing you.”

“Oh? Is Teacher Ge begging Boss Wang for more wine again?”

Teacher Ge turned to see Lingzi standing at the door, waving his hands: “I’m not begging for wine—that’s my wages!”

“But now Boss Wang has a machine—he won’t need you anymore. Are you going to buy your own Maotai? Or are you still begging for wine? Boss Wang, I say you should tease him—teach this old rascal a lesson for his big mouth.”

Lingzi also called Teacher Ge “old rascal”—so did Tao Tao. Since Lingzi opened her place a week ago, Tao Tao came every night to hang out and drink. After dinner, Teacher Ge stayed there too. In just a week, everyone had grown close.

“You’re one to talk—you’re no better with your mouth,” Teacher Ge shot back, quickly changing the subject. “Who’s this? Oh, I remember—you’re the friend from Japan, right?”

“I’m Lingzi’s best friend. Teacher Ge, Boss Wang, everyone—nice to meet you. My name is Ling Hong. Please take care of me.” Ling Hong stood behind Lingzi, beaming.

“Of course, of course. Have you seen the house?”

“We’ve moved everything in. Come check out the shop across from Night Tokyo.”

“You’ll have to wait—the keys are at home.”

“Fine, no rush. Let’s head to Night Tokyo first—you can come directly afterward. Boss Wang, treat Ling Hong to dinner at Night Tokyo tonight,” Lingzi said, nodding at Wang Yan.

“Even if you don’t invite me, I’m going.”

Lingzi laughed and turned away with Ling Hong…

“You say Boss Wang makes three thousand a day? In such a small place, with so few people? Can he really earn that much?”

“Why would I lie? Wait till you eat the lamb skewers tonight. One small bag costs seventy-five cents—he sells it for ten yuan. It’s like stealing money. I heard he’s now making more than three thousand a day. Some out-of-towners who’ve tried his barbecue come looking for his spice blend to take home—he’s sold some already. Secret recipe—it’s truly profitable.”

“But that’s it. It’s a secret recipe—can’t let too many people handle it. No one’s trustworthy enough. Production can’t scale, so he can’t earn more. Still, it’s great—he’s got just a few people, yet he makes a million a year. No one could earn that in a lifetime working for others.”

“Is money really that easy to make in China now?”

“He’s got a secret recipe. What’s a secret recipe, do you even understand?” Lingzi rolled her eyes. “And at first, he set up his stall on Huanghe Road, using delicious lamb skewers as bait to lure people trying to steal his formula…”

Lingzi recounted Wang Yan’s rise to fame on Huanghe Road: “Bao Zong had an elder mentor guiding him. That elder always said: business is about presence, momentum, and gimmicks.”

“Boss Wang lacks presence—he dresses plainly. Bao Zong? You’ve seen him—he’s got presence. Boss Wang has momentum—he makes a million a year and doesn’t have momentum? Who does? Even Bao Zong doesn’t earn as steadily. As for gimmicks? No need anymore—he’s famous in Shanghai. Everyone knows the guy who got rich selling barbecue spice.”

“Teacher Ge says a TV station wants to interview Boss Wang, but he turned them down. And rightly so—more publicity means more people recognize him wherever he goes. He’d be annoyed to death.”

“How old is Boss Wang?”

“Thirty. What’s your point?”

Ling Hong leaned closer: “You’re thirty-five—not much older. What do you think of him?”

“Get lost. Don’t go matchmaking.”

“Oh, I get it—if I were you, I’d go for Bao Zong too. Who wouldn’t be devoted for life if someone opened a shop for them after just one meeting?”

“Then you should just go back to Japan.”

“Alright, alright—I won’t say anything more.”

…

“Welcome back, Ling Hong—cheers!”

At Night Tokyo, Wang Yan, Bao Zong, Teacher Ge, Tao Tao, Lingzi, and Ling Hong sat around a round table. Glasses clinked, spilling wine onto the dishes. The room was filled with the scent of food and alcohol, everyone smiling.

Bao Zong began reminiscing: “When I went to Japan, it was Lingzi and Ling Hong who helped me. I remember Ling Hong worked at a restaurant. I was in a hurry to meet Mr. Yamamoto, so I ordered a bowl of ramen. But Ling Hong truly looked out for friends—seeing I was with Lingzi, she piled on so much extra food I was stuffed.”

“Of course—I have to take care of anyone Lingzi brings. So, Bao Zong, how was that ramen?”

“Delicious. I can still taste it. Lingzi, you should add ramen to your menu—try to recreate that flavor.”

Ling Hong was the center of attention. Teacher Ge and Tao Tao, both naturally outgoing, cracked jokes nonstop—each more lively than the other. Wang Yan wasn’t far behind, but the three of them were just supporting players, happy to cheer.

Everyone at the table was extroverted—the atmosphere was fantastic. They laughed and joked, all familiar now. Lingzi and Ling Hong were both drunk. Even Teacher Ge, the old rascal, was tipsy—he loved parties, and parties meant drinking. But luckily, he didn’t drink much—after two taels, he was done.

Wang Yan, Bao Zong, and Tao Tao each escorted one person safely back to their rooms. Then they returned to Wang Yan’s room, lit a cigarette, and caught their breath.

“Your place is really clean,” Bao Zong said—it was his first time here. He looked around.

“You live at the Peace Hotel, Tao Tao has Fangmei—I’m just more diligent,” Wang Yan smiled. “Truth is, I’m always out, so I just sleep here.”

“Boss Wang, you could move into the Peace Hotel now. Finding a wife would be easier—you’re rich enough, girls would fight over you.”

“That’d be boring.”

“What’s boring?” Tao Tao didn’t get it.

“You’ll understand someday.”

“So mysterious.”

Wang Yan laughed: “Honestly, I prefer the Western-style houses on Julu Road—spacious, well-located, architecturally distinctive, full of history and culture. Back in old Shanghai, only the elite lived there.”

“Now the elite live there too,” Tao Tao snorted.

“Are you bullish on real estate?” Bao Zong picked up on the hint.

“Of course. I’ve read a lot lately. What determines the market? Supply and demand. Shanghai is developing well, and the country’s pushing reforms. I came all the way from the Northeast to make money—don’t you think others are coming too? More people, fewer houses. Fewer houses, higher prices.”

“Can’t they just build more?”

Wang Yan looked at Tao Tao and nodded with a smile: “You’re right. When a city can’t absorb more outsiders, it expands. What becomes valuable then? Land. Land prices rise, so new housing prices rise too.”

“And Shanghai’s center is Huangpu. When prices rise outside, prices here rise even more. So, Tao Zong, I advise you to save up and buy property—like Teacher Ge. He owns a building and several shops—he can live off them for life.”

Bao Zong nodded—he also believed in land, but couldn’t get in now.

He didn’t press the topic further, instead saying: “The stock market’s risen again. Your Electric Vacuum shares are already profitable.”

“Speaking of Electric Vacuum, Bao Zong, buy me another hundred thousand—I feel this wave will make us rich.” Wang Yan pulled another hundred thousand from the cabinet and placed it on the table.

Looking at the pile of cash: “Two hundred thousand is a lot. I don’t advise such a big investment.”

“A lot?” Tao Tao disagreed. He looked at Wang Yan’s smiling face, then at the pile of cash. “It’s only been a week—how do you have another hundred thousand? Teacher Ge said outsiders are buying your spice blend to make barbecue at home—but how can you produce ten thousand yuan a day? Can you even keep up?”

“Didn’t Teacher Ge tell you I’ve got a machine now? First I bought the grinder, then the mixer the next day. Now I just plug it in. Production’s increased several-fold. Orders from Shanghai are up, and more out-of-towners are coming. Don’t you see the lines outside my shop every day?”

“Lingzi was right—you’re stealing money.”

Wang Yan shook his head: “I’ve hit the limit. I can’t handle any more.”

“Then I won’t say more. I’ll take the money to Postage Li tomorrow—he’ll handle it.” Bao Zong agreed. He couldn’t help but think: Wang Yan has good ancestors.

He asked: “You say the barbecue spice business is maxed out—what’s next? Any plans?”

“Still thinking. But business always comes down to clothing, food, housing, transportation. I’m not in a rush—I’ll study slowly.”

Bao Zong extinguished his cigarette, took the cash in hand: “It’s late. Get some rest, Boss Wang. No need to see us off. Goodbye.”

“You should wash up—let’s go down together.”

Wang Yan carried a basin, finally seeing the two off…