Chapter 977: Back to Shanghai

“You haven’t even asked about my past.”

Betty, covering her thin back, lay in Wang Yan’s arms, gazing out the window at the bright daylight.

Wang Yan held his treasure in one hand, his fingers entwined in Betty’s long hair, and said, “I guess you don’t want to bring it up. You didn’t leave back then to chase capitalists, but you certainly didn’t come to work as a waitress at the Peninsula Hotel. Sure, work has no high or low status—but back in the mainland, workers who were once the masters of the state now lack the confidence to speak up.”

You work as a waitress at the Peninsula Hotel, you know how well China has developed in recent years, yet you refuse to return. You probably left with absolute finality back then, and now you don’t want to go back and be looked down upon. After all, here, your family and friends don’t know your situation—they all think you’re doing fine. You have no close acquaintances here either, so being alone is actually comfortable.”

“Your past shaped who you are now. There’s no need to cling too tightly to it. This is an era of sweeping change—what matters most is looking toward the future.”

“You’re right. But I want to tell you—in Shanghai, my name is Xue Zhi.” Betty exhaled deeply. Before Wang Yan could speak, she asked, “So how do we look toward the future?”

“I think we should first get up, eat, then move my luggage to your place—after all, the room rate here is too expensive.”

Betty said nothing, just tilted her head and stared at Wang Yan with wide eyes.

“Alright, I understand what you mean.”

Wang Yan reached out and stroked her face. “First, find a place to set up a small workshop, register a company, and give you thirty percent equity. Then, I’ll have people in Shanghai send over a batch of seasonings. I’ll tweak the cooling tea blends. I’ll give some shops free samples—just one pot boiled, and they’ll come knocking to order from us.”

“Then we’ll buy some machines, hire more workers, and slowly get rich—earning a few dollars at a time. Simple, right?”

“But if we bring people in, won’t your cooling tea formula get leaked? What if someone richer comes along, cuts costs, and outcompetes us?”

“Pay your employees well, and make the stakes crystal clear. Earning hundreds of thousands at once versus decades of steady income—they’ll know the difference. Besides, you said Hong Kong has organized crime, right? I heard celebrities get kidnapped. So if anyone steals my formula, their house burns down. What do you think?”

“I think I made a terrible decision.”

“Too late.” Wang Yan laughed. “Don’t be so pessimistic—I won’t harm you. In the early days of any startup, messy things are inevitable—it’s normal to feel hopeless. Besides, even if this fails in Hong Kong, I’ve got over a million in assets in Shanghai. I’ll support you for life. I can even write a will: if I get killed by triads, all my Shanghai assets go to you—I have no family.”

“No, that’s bad luck.”

“Get up. Pack up. Let’s move to your place. This afternoon, find a bigger space and register the company. Get it done fast—earlier completion means earlier profits.”

What could Betty say? They’d come this far. She rose obediently, ignoring Wang Yan’s gaze, and went to the bathroom to wash up… and took one last look at the view from the Peninsula Hotel window.

Wang Yan and Betty ate together at the hotel. He hadn’t planned to eat there, but Betty said she’d never dined as a guest at the Peninsula, and didn’t care about the stares of her former coworkers—she ate heartily.

She didn’t care; Wang Yan cared even less.

After finishing the meal, Wang Yan checked out, grabbed his suitcase, and took a taxi with Betty heading further north.

Betty lived in Shek Shan Tsuen in Tsuen Wan. Eastward lay Sha Tin—long ago, Yan Ge had debuted there, and of course, Tsuen Wan was also his territory.

But clearly, Tsuen Wan wasn’t anymore. Triads didn’t divide territory as cleanly as the state—they overlapped. Hong Kong had dozens of organized gangs and countless petty thugs—it was a mess.

Wang Yan followed behind Betty, curiously observing the surroundings. As they walked, they reached her building, took the elevator up.

Life often brings small troubles.

For instance, as the elevator doors opened, several scruffy young men laughed and whistled at Betty.

Betty, of course, wouldn’t provoke trouble—she couldn’t afford to. She pretended not to hear, pulled Wang Yan out of the elevator, and hurried away.

Clearly, Wang Yan wouldn’t tolerate such nonsense.

He gently shoved Betty aside, pressing her against the elevator wall, then stepped forward and kicked the ringleader hard—he staggered back, slammed into the wall, and slid down into a sitting heap. Then four slaps—each one sent the other four spinning to the ground.

“Who do you work for?” Wang Yan stepped on the ringleader’s ankle. Before he could speak, Wang Yan continued, “Never mind—I don’t know your crew. I’m giving you a chance: I’ll wait downstairs. Give you one hour to bring your boss. Don’t think I’m bluffing—I’m from the mainland, never seen triads before. Bring someone who can make decisions. Otherwise, next time you come back, you’ll regret it. Understood? Hmm?”

The man groaned, biting back pain, nodding frantically.

“Go on, don’t keep me waiting.” Wang Yan patted his head, then grabbed his suitcase and pulled the stunned Betty. “Come on, what are you standing there for?”

Betty snapped out of it, yanked her hand free, and hurried toward her apartment.

Once inside, she slammed the door shut: “You…”

“Don’t rush. I won’t hurt you.” Wang Yan smiled, pulled her to sit beside him on the bed. “I’m certain this isn’t the first time. You’re alone, a beautiful woman—you can’t afford trouble. But now I’m here. Since yesterday, you’re my woman, I’m your man. Any man would act if someone insulted his woman.”

“I know they’re petty thugs, with bigger thugs behind them. But understand—I’m not reckless. If I had no confidence, I wouldn’t be here with you—I’d be running away with you. Trust me—I can handle this.”

“Hundreds or thousands of them—how will you handle them?”

“Just watch.”

How would he handle them? Of course—he’d fight them.

Wang Yan sensed Betty’s revulsion. He didn’t blame her—she was just a fragile woman, trembling at the thought of worse scenarios, and the source was him. Her aversion was natural.

So Wang Yan didn’t linger. He went downstairs, bought ice cream, and waited in the shade.

Fortunately, Wang Yan didn’t wait long. Half an hour later, an old Crown led a convoy of battered vans. Doors slammed open. Some carried sticks, but most were unarmed—dozens of them, a formidable crowd.

Betty watched from the upper corridor. She saw Wang Yan speak to the ringleader, then saw the negotiation collapse—Wang Yan crushed his cigarette into the thug’s forehead, then kicked him hard, sending him flying into his own men.

She saw Wang Yan snatch a stick and single-handedly beat dozens—within moments, over ten lay on the ground. The rest kept their distance, too terrified to approach…

Then she saw Wang Yan light another cigarette, chatting casually with the seated ringleader. Less than ten minutes later, a police patrol car arrived. Wang Yan and the ringleader spoke to the officers—seemed like a warning—then they drove off…

Everything happened fast—under twenty minutes. But Betty’s emotions swung wildly. She couldn’t understand: how could a man like this have starved back home?

Sunlight fell on her face. She stared down at the man below. For a moment, she wished she could go back thirty-eight hours and forty-six minutes—to when he’d invited her for a walk. She should’ve said, “Sorry, Mr. Wang,” not “I get off at six-thirty.”

But it was only a moment. After that, she became more resolute. And because… she seemed to have no other path left…

When Wang Yan sent the thugs away and returned leisurely, she asked, “What did you say to them?”

“Mutual benefit.”

“How?” Betty didn’t understand. “They deal in gambling, prostitution, and drugs. You beat dozens of them, but they have guns. Even if you’re strong, one shot kills you. What then?”

Wang Yan shook his head, sat down, lit a cigarette, and opened the window. “Don’t worry about things that haven’t happened. I wouldn’t act if I weren’t confident. That group is a small gang, surviving on 14K. They run two small gambling dens, a brothel, sell pirated tapes and cassettes, and loan-shark. I don’t believe they avoid drugs—but I’ll deal with them later.”

“As for cooperation—it’s simple. They find a large warehouse. We register a company, then a cooling tea company. They pay fifty thousand for ten percent equity. I provide the formula; they handle production, promotion, sales. They get ten percent of the profits.”

Betty’s mind snapped: “You’re stealing money!”

“No, no—I’m giving them a chance to go legitimate. Big gangs struggle—what about these small fry scraping by? Besides, we won’t just make tea bags—we’ll build factories, develop bottled drinks, mineral water. Think about the scale.”

“Will they believe you?”

“You don’t believe me—why would they?” Wang Yan smiled. “They’re afraid of my fists. I told him: refuse, and I’ll break all five limbs, turn him into a skateboarder, and send him begging.”

“Aren’t you afraid he’ll bring more men? Or shoot you in the back?”

“Again, worrying about things that haven’t happened. I can only say—I’m not afraid. How it turns out depends on the future. Relax. They care more about money than their own fathers. Once they start earning, they’ll be the most obedient. And haven’t you noticed? I’ve already solved your formula-leak problem. You solved one worry, now you worry about another—can you possibly worry about everything?”

Betty froze. She’d feared formula leakage—but hadn’t imagined Wang Yan would solve it this way. She had to admit: though still risky, it was safer than hiring workers. If what he said was true, this was real wealth—Guangdong, Guangxi, Hong Kong, Macau alone could make them rich.

If the formula leaked, the angry gang boss would kill the whole family.

She exhaled deeply, nodded. “I’ll follow your lead.” Her voice held resignation—she had no choice.

“Don’t worry—I won’t cheat you.” Wang Yan extinguished his cigarette. “Let’s go out, buy some essentials. Starting a business is hard—we’ll live here a while. When we earn money, I’ll get you a better place—a thousand-square-foot mansion first, then aim for Victoria Peak.”

“Just owning a house on the island is enough—I dare not dream of Victoria Peak.”

“If you can’t even imagine it, how can you achieve it? Come on—this place is too cramped.”

Betty smiled, picked up her small bag, and left with Wang Yan…

After a passionate night in the cramped room, Wang Yan and Betty washed up and went downstairs—only to find the thug leader from yesterday waiting.

Seeing Wang Yan and Betty emerge, he grinned broadly and greeted: “Brother Yan, Sister-in-law, good morning.”

Wang Yan nodded. Betty was confused but, out of politeness and fear, gave a reluctant nod.

“He’s Dao Zi. Just call him that.”

“Yeah, Sister-in-law, call me Dao Zi. Here’s my card—call anytime, I’ll handle it for you.”

Betty stared at the forty-something man smiling at her, took the card, and tucked it into her bag. She still didn’t understand how Wang Yan communicated with such a hardened gangster. A man his age, still calling her “Sister-in-law.”

Seeing her take the card, Dao Zi grinned wider. “Brother Yan, I found a warehouse—big enough for early production. And the fifty thousand? Ready. In the trunk.”

“First, breakfast. Then check the warehouse. After that, find a lawyer to sign contracts and register the company. Handle this yourself—spend the money. After seeing the warehouse, I’ll write you the list of herbs and materials. Pay for the first batch yourself—I’ll reimburse you later.”

“No need to repay—I follow Brother Yan’s orders.”

“Even brothers keep accounts clear. I said I’d partner with you to make money—that’s what I meant. Fifty thousand is your equity, not my extortion. Tomorrow, gather your men at the warehouse—I’ll lecture them. You’re forty-five—you’re lucky you haven’t been slashed yet. I’ll say this once: no drugs. If you touch them, disappear. Don’t drag me down.”

“Brother Yan, I swear—I’ve never touched drugs. I have no distribution channels—they look down on me. I’m just trying to eat.”

“Good. Otherwise, you won’t even get a quick death.”

Wang Yan patted his shoulder, opened the car door, let Betty sit in the back, then sat beside her. Dao Zi hurried into the driver’s seat and drove off obediently…

Thugs aren’t always afraid of police—but they fear bigger thugs. Dao Zi was exactly that: forty-five, with wife and kids, dozens of men depending on him—he valued his life. But he wasn’t ready to retire—he still wanted to achieve something. Wang Yan understood this balance—he gave this small gang boss a chance. And Dao Zi had to seize it. No reason needed—it was that simple.

Older thugs grow wiser. Dao Zi was reliable—he found the warehouse, cleaned it up. Not spotless, but clean enough. And he didn’t wait until tomorrow—he called his men over during breakfast.

Wang Yan knew gang life well. He didn’t teach these thugs how to become big bosses—he taught them to obey laws and go legitimate. Only when attacked should they pick up weapons to defend their wealth. The process wasn’t pretty—some troublemakers always emerged, so they’d suffer a week of beatings.

Wang Yan also purged drug users and gamblers, letting them keep running brothels, gambling dens, and pirated goods. The rest were more reliable—even if lazy, a good beating fixed them. Using them and their families for labor worked well.

In the afternoon, Wang Yan met a lawyer, signed contracts with Dao Zi and Betty. They registered Xue Zhi Investment Co., under which Xue Zhi Tea Co. and Long Teng Investment Co. were established—the latter for reverse investment into the mainland, ensuring brand consistency. Paperwork would take time; Dao Zi paid all legal fees. Wang Yan wouldn’t pay a cent more—he’d prove his incompetence.

He also gave Dao Zi the ingredients and formula, instructing him to buy materials and begin production—once the company was approved, launch promotion in Tsuen Wan…

That night, Xue Zhi was unusually eager, enthusiastic.

Afterwards, she kissed Wang Yan and whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Xue Zhi Investment…”

“We haven’t made money yet. Too early to thank.”

“Still, thank you.”

“Sleep.” Wang Yan gently patted her smooth back.

Betty snuggled closer, found a comfortable position, and finally fell into deep sleep…

The tea company progressed quickly. Petty thugs didn’t care about human rights—they were ideal workers. Wang Yan glared, Dao Zi obeyed. Dao Zi glared, his thugs obeyed.

Besides, Wang Yan provided jobs for their families. Honestly, they were lucky not to bring trouble home—how could they expect decent wages? So the thugs felt proud. Their families processed raw materials, mixed formulas, while the thugs delivered finished products to restaurants and stalls—all full of energy.

Betty handled management: overseeing production, scheduling, tracking clients, arranging shipments, daily accounting. Overall, it was fulfilling.

As Wang Yan said, once shops tried the tea once, once they understood its value, they’d never use their own recipes—they’d buy Xue Zhi Tea products.

Wang Yan offered a wide range of products. Cooling teas became intricate—he was a master of traditional Chinese medicine. Daily tonics, fever remedies, menstrual aids, appetite stimulants, heat relief, qi and blood supplements—you name it. Different effects, different costs, different prices. Not miraculous, but genuinely effective.

After all, this wasn’t medicine—it was a tea drink. Costs limited expensive herbs. One small packet boiled into a large pot, each person drinking a bowl, still feeling effects—that was Wang Yan’s brilliance.

His improvements: one, richer, more targeted formulas; two, better taste—taste was key.

So only a week passed before the market was opened, with sales rising daily. This product was just like barbecue seasoning—if one shop bought it, nearby businesses doing the same thing had to buy it too, or their sales would suffer. Everyone was leveled, and the old situation was restored.

During this process, merchants didn’t raise their costs much—just ten or twenty yuan more—since they still had to buy raw materials themselves, and buying in small quantities cost even more than Wang Yan’s bulk prices.

Wang Yan’s prices were indeed slightly higher, but they matched his product quality, and he never exploited shop owners or stallholders.

At the same time, customers got better iced tea, and Wang Yan exploited the gap to make big profits through low margins and high volume. It was a win-win for everyone—no one lost, everyone gained. Even his factory created many job opportunities and redirected some hoodlums onto the right path. Looking at it this way, Wang Mou had great virtue.

The success in Quanwan showed Betty and Daozi the future: a group of small hoodlums spread across Hong Kong to promote the product, using Daozi’s two old vans to deliver goods, growing rapidly.

Meanwhile, Wang Yan didn’t forget the seasoning. Hong Kong had plenty of barbecue and grilled meat shops—it wasn’t just a northern specialty. He contacted Jin Bao’s mother and reached out to foreign trade, exporting the seasoning from mainland China at ten yuan per unit. Snow Zhi’s investment then registered a new distribution company, but the workers were still those same hoodlums, promoting at restaurants.

Of course, prices doubled—Hong Kong was wealthy, consumer power strong, and the seasoning cost was negligible when amortized. After all, Wang Yan’s shipping fees weren’t cheap and had to be factored in.

The seasoning promotion, like the iced tea, meant every related shop called to place orders. Overall, sales were excellent, and staff grew daily—partly from general workers, partly from Daozi’s recruits. He was recently very prominent.

Wang Yan operated at a higher level—he had it easy. But he wasn’t idle; he used Daozi’s fifty-thousand-yuan investment to trade stocks on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange. He was short on cash himself, and since others handled the work, he might as well make money in the market.

He played stocks far better than Abao. He didn’t rely on insider info or capital advantage—just through deep understanding and analyzing market trends, he could predict rises and falls. Because he didn’t trade the market—he played the people behind it.

Of course, his capital was small, so he attracted no attention and caused no price fluctuations. In fact, it wasn’t just Hong Kong’s stock market—he occasionally traded futures, currencies, and even U.S. stocks.

So every day, coming and going, over a month passed—and his fifty thousand became five hundred thousand…

From initial gambling, to later anxiety, to now feeling the future was truly bright—Betty had experienced all this in just over a month. She had to admit: the past month with Wang Yan had been happier than when she left the mainland for Hong Kong.

By day, she managed her growing company, joyfully reviewing daily revenue increases. By night, she had deep, high-quality, intoxicating exchanges with Wang Yan. Then she slept until dawn, starting a new day—never before had she felt so fulfilled, so happily striving for tomorrow. Yes, she believed this was happiness.

So far, this man she’d met three times, thought about all night, then slept with to gamble on her future, had already made her a fortune.

Now he was leaving. She had to admit: she was already dependent on this man.

She folded clothes one by one, helping pack his luggage: “You don’t need to take so much back, do you?”

“All these are things friends asked me to buy for them—I can’t let them down,” Wang Yan smiled, fiddling with another large suitcase. “You seem down. You’re Shebude me?”

…

After a moment of silence, Betty nodded: “When will you come back?”

“After the New Year. I can afford the ticket. Even if I didn’t worry about business here, I’d still come to see you.”

Wang Yan pointed to several papers on the table: “The detailed development plan is all written here—just follow it. Right now, the most urgent is building a factory to increase capacity. Also develop and produce iced tea beverages. Once the drink is ready and the market opened, even if our tea recipe leaks, it won’t matter much.”

“My suggestion is to build the factory in Shenzhen—lower costs, and it’s more convenient to cover Guangdong and Guangxi. Exporting to Hong Kong later? Price hikes won’t be a problem. I transferred one million into the company account yesterday—arrange it as you see fit.”

“If you can’t handle anything, call Daozi. After knowing him this long, you’ve seen—he’ll do his best. Seriously, if you need to eliminate a few people, he can arrange it—but don’t do that. If Daozi can’t handle it and the situation is serious, stabilize things, stall for time—I’ll come immediately.”

“Loosen up. Be confident. Dare to decide. Even if you’re wrong, you just lose some money—no big deal. Don’t fear trouble—keep yourself safe, and everything can be solved.”

“I’m thirty-one, not a child.”

Wang Yan smiled, snapping shut the suitcase: “Alright, I’m off. Find a bigger, nicer apartment to rent. This place is still uncomfortable.”

“Got it.” Betty finally snapped shut her own already-packed suitcase.

She stepped forward, cupped Wang Yan’s face in both hands, and kissed him.

It was a long kiss. Wang Yan caressed her cheek: “I’m going. See you next year. Take care.”

“You too.”

Betty didn’t go downstairs to see him off. She leaned over the corridor railing, watching Wang Yan carry two large suitcases down. Daozi and his men downstairs eagerly stuffed them into the car. She waved, smiling, watching him get in and drive away…

Even after Daozi’s old, battered Crown vanished from sight, she didn’t move. She still leaned there, no longer smiling, lost in gloom. Her eyes drifted toward distant buildings, the distant sky—perhaps recalling the past month’s joys, or imagining a bright future—yet in the end, she smiled.

She returned inside, tidied up, and left, deciding that day to rent a better apartment and vacate the public housing…

In Ye Dongjing, Tao Tao asked: “Teacher Ge, when will Boss Wang come back?”

“How should I know? Didn’t you call him?”

“Don’t mention it—he said if I called him again, he’d beat me up when he returns. Oh my, Boss Wang makes over ten calls a day—I dare not call him!”

Ling Hong sneered: “How could you call like that? Once a day? Are you trying to die? Don’t you think phone bills cost money? Boss Wang answered you five times already—he’s incredibly patient. If it were me, I’d have twisted your head off long ago.”

Ling Zi said: “Teacher Ge, didn’t you say this morning you met Jin Bao’s mother?”

“Oh right—this morning, Jin Bao’s mother was leaving, and I happened to go downstairs for breakfast. I asked when Xiao Dongbei was coming back. She said he called her a few days ago, telling her to send more goods. She asked when he’d return, and he said soon.”

Teacher Ge said: “Oh my, Xiao Dongbei keeps his word. It’s already September—he said before leaving he’d cook for us himself. He’ll definitely be back these days.”

“I wonder if he brought the bag I asked him to get…” Ling Hong turned to Tao Tao: “It’s all your fault—why did you call so much? Now I can’t even call to remind him without feeling awkward.”

“Oh my, can’t I be curious? Since childhood, I’ve never left Hong Kong—not even been to Shanghai. Boss Wang went to Hong Kong—I naturally want to know what it’s like there!”

“Why not wait until he comes back?”

“Then why can’t you wait? I also asked Boss Wang to bring me local specialties!”

Tao Tao decided not to argue further with Ling Hong: “Ling Zi, did Abao say how much he made from stocks?”

“Do you need someone to tell you? Can’t you calculate?” Ling Zi sneered. “Electric Vacuum is now five hundred yuan. Boss Wang bought it at ninety. Twenty thousand turned into one million.”

“Oh my, Boss Wang’s luck is amazing. Like me, he doesn’t understand stocks. Just bought randomly and got rich—I’m green with envy. It’s all Fang Mei’s fault—I told her to have Abao buy stocks for me, but she refused. Now Boss Wang’s a millionaire, and I’m still selling seafood…”

Ling Hong sighed: “I remember Boss Wang said he liked the Western-style house on Julu Road. Now he’s made a million—surely he’ll move?”

Tao Tao said: “Of course—he could’ve moved long ago. Who’d live in a tiny twenty-square-meter apartment after making that much money?”

“What’s wrong with my small apartment? It’s cheap!” Teacher Ge scowled, then couldn’t help sighing: “Xiao Dongbei is a good man. He’s rich and busy—I wonder if he’ll still keep in touch after he moves.”

“He’ll definitely keep in touch—Boss Wang said we’re friends. When he first came, he had nothing—you helped him!” Tao Tao paused, thought, then added: “But maybe he won’t come often—he’s doing business in Hong Kong now. How much time does he have to hang out in Ye Dongjing?”

Ling Zi shook her head and smiled: “You’re all wrong. Boss Wang won’t change—he’ll still come. You say he’s busy, but haven’t you noticed he loves being idle? If he really cared about work, why would he hand over the seasoning recipe so freely to Jin Bao’s mother?”

“Of course to make more money,” Ling Hong replied instantly.

“If others knew the recipe, he’d make nothing—unless he wanted to push a tricycle around selling skewers again. Boss Wang has vision, has ambition. He has this air of total indifference—you haven’t noticed? He used to be messy, then changed his look, bought nice clothes—yes, now he looks like Boss Wang, but I see he hasn’t changed at all. Still calm, still lazy.”

“Besides, Teacher Ge still drinks Boss Wang’s Maotai. Yes, Teacher Ge helped him with some work—but how much could that old man really do? Boss Wang fed and drank him every day. Later, when he didn’t need Teacher Ge anymore, Boss Wang was busy and didn’t even come himself—but still sent crates of Maotai to me. So I say Boss Wang will keep coming to Ye Dongjing. Don’t believe me? Let’s bet.”

“What’s the bet?” Tao Tao asked.

“One hundred yuan.”

“I think Xiao Dongbei will definitely come back to Ye Dongjing—he’s the most loyal. I agree with Ling Zi.” Teacher Ge completely forgot he’d called Xiao Dongbei “heartless” countless times…

Tao Tao and Ling Hong exchanged glances: “I think Boss Wang will come occasionally.”

“Me too.”

“Alright,” Ling Zi clapped her hands. “It’s settled—we’ll settle this at the New Year. Want to bet where he’ll spend the New Year?”

“He’ll definitely come—he has no family. Honestly, I’m closest to Xiao Dongbei,” Teacher Ge happily sipped his Maotai.

“No, I’m closest to Boss Wang,” Tao Tao protested.

Ling Hong looked utterly baffled: “Oh my, do you two need to see a doctor? You’re adults—arguing over this? It’s like you think Boss Wang likes men—so disgusting…”

She looked disgusted.

Teacher Ge and Tao Tao exchanged glances, both shuddering, equally repulsed…