Chapter 978: Fate

The taxi stopped downstairs; Wang Yan got out, picked up two large leather suitcases, and walked straight into the building.

“Boss Wang’s back from Hong Kong!”

Master Kong, who usually taught children piano, wasn’t teaching today since all the kids were in school; he’d left his door open for ventilation and was amusing himself. Seeing Wang Yan pass by, he smiled and greeted him.

Wang Yan smiled back, opened the door, and stepped into his apartment. Though he’d been away over a month, the place hadn’t gathered dust—Wang Yan had given the keys to Master Ge, who grumbled nonstop but still kept things clean.

After unpacking the boxes and arranging the items he’d brought back, Wang Yan left again and went to Master Kong’s place.

He pulled out a box: “Master Kong, I visited many places in Hong Kong and passed by a music store. I don’t know much about instruments, so I bought you a flute—it didn’t cost much, and you might find one here too—but it’s just a little token. I’ve listened to your piano and vocal exercises every day until my ears grew calluses; try something new—play the flute.”

“Oh my, Boss Wang, I don’t know whether to thank you or scold you! You went all the way to Hong Kong and still thought of me—thank you, truly. I won’t be polite then.”

“No need to be polite. Alright, I won’t disturb you, Master Kong—I brought gifts for Teacher Chen and Teacher Shi too.” Wang Yan waved cheerfully.

There were only a few people, so Wang Yan brought something for each—costing some money, but nothing extravagant. For Teacher Chen, the painter, he brought a set of brushes and paints; for Teacher Shi, the opera singer, he brought a Walkman and several opera cassette tapes—things they could enjoy outside too, all tailored to their tastes.

For Master Ge, Lingzi, and others, he brought watches, bags, and jewelry—much cheaper than in mainland China, and not expensive at all. He didn’t forget Jinbao’s mother or Little Fatty either. Jinbao’s mother was now his top lieutenant—he had to think of her.

Jinbao’s mother really had it tough: if she wanted to earn money, she couldn’t care for her child; if she cared for her child, she couldn’t earn money. But luckily, Little Fatty was doing fine—well-raised, not turned out badly.

“Oh my, Little Northeast, you’re back? Didn’t even say a word!”

As Wang Yan was organizing his things, Master Ge walked in.

“You told me you’d pick me up? You’re still got bones left to do that?”

“What nonsense? Night Tokyo’s been preparing for your welcome—why not treat you right? Seeing you unpacking all this,” he said, watching Wang Yan sort through the items, “did you bring everything Lingzi and Linghong asked for? You don’t know—Linghong talks about you every day, drives me crazy. Every day, buzzing, buzzing, buzzing—I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Wang Yan casually tossed a box over.

Master Ge instinctively caught it: “Oh my, I got something too?”

“Oh my, everyone else got something—only you, you old rascal, got nothing. You’d be crying in your room at night, whining, ‘Little Northeast’s heartless!’ Then you’d demand rent, list all the work you did for me—buzzing, buzzing, buzzing—I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

Master Ge ignored Wang Yan’s teasing. He beamed at the box, opened it, and muttered, “Oh my, a watch—Longines? Not cheap at all, Little Northeast, you really spoiled me. I tell you, you’re the most conscientious one—unlike Lingzi and Linghong.”

“If I said that to them, you’d be in deep trouble.”

“Don’t stir up trouble—I’m just telling you. I’d never let them hear it.” Master Ge changed the subject. “What did you buy for Tao Tao?”

“Same as everyone else. Bao Zong and Postage Li—same thing. No one gets more than another. Equal treatment.”

“I’m just glad I got something, but what you gave Bao Zong and Postage Li? That’s not enough. Don’t you know your vacuum tubes now cost over five hundred yuan? In less than half a year, two hundred thousand turned into a million—how are you going to give them a watch like this?”

“You say that? Then how about my Maotai—you think you can’t drink it?” Wang Yan shook his head. “We’re friends. Originally, I was going to cook for everyone. Now I went to Hong Kong and brought back a few things to cheer everyone up. What’s the connection? If I hadn’t gone to Hong Kong, would I have to split half my earnings with Postage Li and Bao Zong?”

“Now I went to Hong Kong, made money from stocks, brought back some gifts to share the fortune—isn’t that enough? I spent tens of thousands on all this—isn’t that generous?”

“I’m just reminding you—don’t overlook things. Friends are friends, but you can’t let people work for free.”

“You didn’t work a day and still got a watch—go enjoy it.”

Master Ge had taken off his old Shanghai watch and put on the new Longines, caressing its cool surface: “Though I bought the Shanghai watch when I married my wife—it’s carried meaning all these years—this new one just feels different.”

“Which is better?”

“Of course… both are good. My old Shanghai? I’ll send it for a proper repair and maintenance—can’t let it gather dust in a drawer. My wife would get mad.”

After admiring it back and forth, Master Ge said, “Little Northeast, you free tonight? Going to Night Tokyo?”

“Of course. I’ve got to deliver all these gifts, and I want to check if Little Monk’s skills have improved.”

“I’ll tell them then, and call Tao Tao.” Master Ge slowly turned and left Wang Yan’s place, heading to Night Tokyo to spread the news that Boss Wang had returned…

Of course, Boss Wang’s return was good news. Master Ge’s mouth moved fast—he felt the joy himself and spoiled everyone else’s surprise. But it didn’t matter much, because Master Ge blurted out that Wang Yan wasn’t charging a cent—he gave everything away for free. That was an even bigger surprise.

Before Wang Yan even reached Night Tokyo, Tao Tao pedaled over, proudly wearing her new watch and stashing the ladies’ bag Wang Yan had brought for Fangmei. She also volunteered to carry Lingzi’s and the others’ gifts.

When Wang Yan arrived at Night Tokyo, Lingzi and the others were still fiddling with their gifts.

“Boss Wang’s here! Thank you, Boss Wang!” Linghong said. “Boss Wang, you went through so much trouble bringing these expensive gifts—you can’t just give them away for free.”

Obviously, this was false modesty.

Wang Yan nodded: “I planned to use my stock profits—money I earned for free—to share the fortune with everyone, so I won’t take money. But if you insist on paying, I won’t refuse. If I remember right, that bag cost over three thousand three hundred yuan—let’s say two thousand.”

Clearly, Wang Yan was generous—this was roughly a year’s salary for an ordinary worker.

“Oh my, since Boss Wang gave it to me, how could I refuse?” Linghong didn’t even blink.

Everyone burst out laughing at her audacity, especially Master Ge and Tao Tao, who laughed loudly.

“Hey, you two, what’s so funny? Watches are about the same price—you, one hoarding your life savings, the other wanting to be generous but can’t even pull out twenty yuan—how dare you laugh at me?”

“We didn’t pretend to offer money.”

“Enough, enough—you three argue over three words. Can’t you just let me have some peace?”

Lingzi waved her hand, cutting off the brewing verbal battle, and smiled warmly at Wang Yan: “I won’t be polite with Boss Wang—I’ll take it.”

“No need to be polite—just keep it.” Wang Yan asked, “Is Bao Zong coming?”

“I called him—he’s still out of town. But he told me Postage Li’s already selling the stocks; he’ll finish within a few days.”

“Then take these two watches to Bao Zong when he returns—he can pass them to Postage Li. As for my cooking, let’s plan for next Saturday. I’ve got some things to handle—I’ll be busy for seven or eight days. Then have Bao Zong invite that old uncle and Miss Wang—we’ll all eat, drink, and have fun.”

“Of course. I’ll arrange it. List the dishes you want—I’ll buy everything, you just cook.”

“I’ll write it down now. You also set a time with Bao Zong and the others—after these seven or eight days, I’m free anytime.”

Wang Yan was direct—he found paper and pen and quickly wrote out over twenty dishes, covering all eight major regional cuisines. People wouldn’t drool just from reading the names, but there was still undeniable anticipation.

With everyone gathered, after the initial excitement over the gifts, they began eating. Nothing new—everyone, like curious children, asked about Hong Kong, about Wang Yan’s business there, and especially about the triads—after all, Wang Yan had trouble with Lu Meilin just for selling on Huanghe Road; what would happen in Hong Kong?

Wang Yan wasn’t annoyed. Though everyone here had quirks, none were bad people; their daily bickering was actually pleasant. He didn’t hide anything—though he didn’t go into great detail, he gave them a fair account of his Hong Kong experience.

After satisfying their curiosity, the Night Tokyo crowd began chattering again, telling Wang Yan about the past month’s events and petty squabbles, asking him to mediate.

As they chatted, Tao Tao suddenly said, “Boss Wang, once you sell your stocks, are you moving out? I say you should—your net worth is millions now, yet you still live in Master Ge’s tiny apartment. That defeats the purpose of making money.”

“I agree too, Boss Wang. You don’t know—we were just… ” Linghong suddenly stopped, catching everyone’s gaze, then took a deep breath: “We looked into the Western-style houses on Julu Road—you said you liked that area. Tao Tao went to check—small ones are sixty to seventy thousand, bigger ones eighty thousand—enough.”

“That’s right—I checked. Some people need capital to start businesses; others want to emigrate. Houses are expensive for us, but not for you, Boss Wang. But you told me before—houses will only get pricier, so we should buy when we can. I say, why not buy a whole building?”

“I’m buying to live in, not to flip for profit.” Wang Yan shook his head and smiled. “I’ll definitely buy a house—somewhere bigger, more comfortable. I’ll check around these next few days; if I find something suitable, I’ll buy it and renovate. I’ll also transfer my household registration—it’s too inconvenient otherwise.”

“Then you must visit often—we’re all friends…” Master Ge slowly fell silent under everyone’s stares.

Wang Yan saw clearly—these people at Night Tokyo were probably scheming something behind his back, gossiping, maybe even betting on him. Nothing serious—he pretended not to notice.

He shook his head and smiled: “I’ll definitely come when I’m free. I don’t have many friends—I barely have anyone to talk to. It’s lonely.”

Tao Tao laughed: “You should get married, Boss Wang. Otherwise, I’ll start thinking you’re into men.”

“Yeah, Little Northeast, what’s your thinking?”

“I haven’t met anyone suitable. Come on, enough about me—drink, drink!”

What could Wang Yan say? He couldn’t say “the more, the better.”

After dinner, Wang Yan went out the next day to handle his affairs. Two main tasks: check progress on the seasoning plant, the shoe and apparel factory, and the Nanjing Road store; and clarify the Hong Kong investment equity deal—finalize and implement everything properly.

He didn’t return to Shanghai alone—he brought along a lawyer appointed by a Hong Kong investment firm to represent the company’s U.S. dollar investment in his seasoning plant and apparel factory. It was all just moving money from his left hand to his right—he just needed to get the paperwork right and secure all the policy benefits.

There was also a small matter: the house purchase mentioned over dinner.

He had deep ties to Julu Road—many things had happened there. But sadly, he felt no special emotion; his past was too rich, dulling his emotional highs and lows.

So he came anyway—just because it was relatively comfortable, nothing else. He was decisive: after viewing two places, he bought a two-and-a-half-story garden villa outright and arranged for renovations…

No. 27 The Bund, the crimson sunset painted the interior in golden hues. Another evening, many were packing up to leave.

“What’s for dinner?” Mei Ping asked.

Miss Wang paused, gazing at the twilight outside, thought carefully, then said: “We should go for pork ribs with rice cakes today.”

“Again? Pork ribs and rice cakes?”

“You know, Mei Ping—I love them. I could eat them forever.”

“I really admire you—your taste hasn’t changed in years. I’m off. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Miss Wang replied, waving goodbye, gathering her things, then slinging her small bag over her shoulder and stepping out…

Miss Wang couldn’t remember how many times she’d been to the pork ribs and rice cakes shop. Her father said that even before she could remember, she’d begged for it daily. Later, when she could recall, she confirmed it—her favorite was always pork ribs and rice cakes. As a child, her parents took her; as a teen, friends joined; now, as an adult, she went alone—no one stayed by her side.

She’d accompanied this shop from its humble stall beside her school to its current location on Yunnan South Road. She loved only this one—the original owner retired, passed it to his son, who cooked just as well. She adored it.

Some flavors, once tasted, are unforgettable.

Some people, once met, leave a lasting impression.

Of course, this isn’t necessarily romantic—it’s just that certain people leave such strong memories, surfacing unbidden.

Two chance encounters, Wang Yan’s uniqueness, their pleasant conversation—made Miss Wang, on her short walk from the bus stop to the shop, always wonder if Wang Yan was inside, waiting for a third serendipitous meeting.

Today, she was sure—she remembered his license plate, and saw that black Santana parked by the roadside.

“Miss Wang, you’re here,” the shop owner greeted as always.

“Same as usual—add extra salted pork ribs.”

“Boss Wang, did you hear that? I didn’t lie—I added salted pork ribs after using your seasoning, and Miss Wang orders extra every time.” The owner smiled. “Miss Wang, no need to specify anymore—salted pork ribs are standard now.”

“Hurry up, I’m starving!” Miss Wang laughed, opened a soda, inserted a straw, and sat beside Wang Yan. “Long time no see, Boss Wang.”

“Not that long—I’d say about two months,” Wang Yan said, thinking seriously.

“Oh my, two months isn’t short? A year has only six two-month periods. The ancients said a day apart feels like three autumns—this is sixty autumns!”

“Miss Wang, your math is excellent.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Miss Wang pouted, sucking on her straw. “I heard you went to Hong Kong—how was it? Smooth sailing?”

“Looks like Miss Wang cares about me.”

“Hey hey hey, don’t get self-important—I just thought of you while chatting with Bao Zong, asked casually—he told me.”

Wang Yan smiled and nodded, eating as he spoke: “It went well. I opened a company there and reinvested in my seasoning plant and apparel factory. The paperwork’s almost done—should be finished in a few days.”

“How did you set up a company there? You can’t just send a shell company to get policy benefits here.”

“I exported my seasoning. Hong Kong people eat barbecue and grilled meat too—my seasoning sold well, and I heard more people started grilling.”

“Same as Shanghai?” Miss Wang already understood the full story—she knew the recent barbecue craze in Shanghai had been entirely Wang Yan’s doing, including the fights on Huanghe Road and the banquets he attended.

Truthfully, Wang Yan had gained some fame in Shanghai. But in this fast-moving era, a few months felt like ages—others had risen to prominence. Wang Yan’s heat had cooled since then. Still, many remembered him—everyone had eaten barbecue, and Wang Yan’s reputation for low costs had become infamous.

“About that,” Wang Yan nodded. “Hong Kong has millions of people living there, lots of street stalls and food carts, and business there is great too. Here, the export price is ten yuan, but I sell it for twenty there.”

“Oh my, you’re really greedy, Boss Wang.”

“How else do you make money? You’ve eaten the salt-and-pepper pork ribs—tell me, were they good?” Wang Yan reached out to take Miss Wang’s meal.

“Delicious,” Miss Wang chuckled.

“Exactly. Besides, Hong Kong is richer than here—doubling the price won’t hurt much. But honestly, I don’t make much profit. Shipping in and out, promotion, sales, delivery—all cost money. Over there, I make about five yuan per bag.”

Are you taking advantage of me because I can't do math? You're still making seven or eight yuan here.

“How could I? I just said you’re good at math.”

Wang Yan smiled, wiped his hands, and pulled a gift box from his leather bag, placing it on the table: “A gift I brought you from Hong Kong—thank you for giving me advice.”

“No way—you came here just to wait for me today?”

“No, I just hadn’t been here in a long time and felt like eating. Also, we’ve got good luck—I came twice and met you twice. I wondered if I’d meet you a third time, so I kept it in my bag. Clearly, we’re destined to meet. Hey, don’t look at me like that—I’ve only been here three times. Ask the boss—he won’t lie with me.”

The boss, busy at work, looked up: “Miss Wang, I can confirm—Boss Wang has only come here three times. First time, I ordered seasonings and he delivered them, then ate here. Second time, it rained—he came to deliver goods and stopped by. This time, he said my food was delicious and came specially to support my business.”

“That’s not why,” Miss Wang waved her hand behind her, looking at Wang Yan. “I already told you last time—I don’t accept gifts from others.”

“What about a friend’s gift? We have no business dealings.” Wang Yan looked innocent. “Besides, it’s not expensive—I have the receipt. Look, six hundred yuan. Just check if you like it before you say no.”

“I don’t even need to look—I already like it. You always pick well.”

“Thank you for your trust.”

Miss Wang pouted but still checked the receipt, then opened the gift box.

Nothing special inside—two boxes. One was an eyeglass case holding only a frame without lenses; the other held several pairs of lenses.

If anything was special, it was the frame’s design: oval-shaped, with a subtle metallic finish—dark gold leaning toward silver—and gilded patterns on the temples. Fresh-looking, yet understated.

“Why so many lenses?”

“I didn’t know your prescription, so I got a range. There are also a few unprocessed lenses—you can take them to an optician to grind them. I think you look prettier with these. Your current big square frames make you look dull.”

“You’re the dull one.”

Miss Wang retorted, then giggled. “Sometimes I look in the mirror and think so too. Boss Bao once gave me contact lenses—I thought they were convenient, so I reported it and bought my own. But after wearing them too long, they got uncomfortable, and my nearsightedness seemed worse. So I wear them sometimes, sometimes not.”

She picked up the frame, turning it over, uncertain: “Really only six hundred?”

“Would the receipt lie?”

“But it doesn’t look like six hundred to me.”

“Could the organization really send someone to Hong Kong to find the shop and ask how much this frame costs? Can’t it just be worth more than it costs?”

“So it’s not six hundred,” Miss Wang said, leaning closer to Wang Yan, whispering, “Tell me the truth—how much is it really?”

Wang Yan leaned in close to her ear: “Six hundred.”

“I’m serious!” Her ear tickled, she jerked back and slapped him.

“I’m not lying—it really is six hundred.”

“Then I won’t take it.”

“Fine. Tomorrow I’ll go to No. 27 and talk to your department head. I don’t believe I can’t give a gift.”

“I’ve never seen anyone give gifts like this.”

“Miss Wang, you’re not straightforward, yet you shout so loud. I’m telling you: these glasses are six hundred. And you tell me: yes or no?”

“No.”

“Alright.” Wang Yan nodded, smiling, and began packing the glasses again.

Watching him, Miss Wang asked: “So you’re going to No. 27 tomorrow?”

“Of course. Didn’t I say so?”

Miss Wang’s simple mind raced—imagining Wang Yan showing up at her office to force her to accept the gift. She shook her head frantically and grabbed the gift box before he could put it away.

“I’ll take it. Tomorrow I’ll report it and pay you back.”

“Wise choice. Look—you got a gift specially brought from Hong Kong, and you glared at me.”

“No one forces people to accept gifts like this.”

“Well, now there’s me.”

Wang Yan raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Relax—it’s really six hundred. Even if someone goes to Hong Kong and asks the shop, they’ll get the same price. I just wanted to give you a gift you’d like, to show my thanks—not to cause trouble. Also, I have another thing to tell you.”

“I’m not listening.”

Miss Wang had already reopened the box, holding each lens up to her eyes to test fit. Clearly, she loved the gift.

Wang Yan ignored her “not listening” and kept eating and talking: “When Night Tokyo opened, I met Boss Bao and the stamp Li group. Over dinner, we talked about stocks. At the time, I had some cash, so I bought 100,000 yuan worth of Electric Vacuum stock. Later, over drinks with Boss Bao, he told me the stock had risen, so I had him buy another 100,000 yuan worth.”

“We agreed then: when my stocks made a profit, I’d cook a meal for everyone this month. Tentatively set for Saturday night. But it depends on whether Boss Bao and the others are free. I haven’t told you yet, but Boss Bao will probably ask you later. Since we met now, I’m telling you ahead. Actually, even if we hadn’t met today, I planned to give you this gift then.”

“I might not go.”

“Then you definitely will.”

Miss Wang sighed deeply. She realized Wang Yan never gave her room to refuse.

She changed the subject: “Can you cook well?”

“Incredibly well. You might not know, but at first, everyone told me to open a restaurant.”

“Aren’t you the guy who sells grilled lamb skewers?”

“What’s the essence of barbecue?”

“The seasoning?”

“The heat.”

Wang Yan shook his head, smiling. “The same goes for cooking. Even with identical ingredients, identical seasonings, and identical steps, two master chefs will produce two different flavors.”

“Of course, good ingredients are essential. But nowadays, material conditions are improving—big cities like Shanghai have everything. What tests a chef is precisely the heat control.”

“Don’t brag. If your food’s bad, you’ll look foolish.”

“I never brag.”

Seeing Wang Yan’s certainty, Miss Wang believed him.

Because when they first met, Wang Yan looked sloppy—his hair was slicked back, but his clothes were old. Back then, he said next time he’d look like Boss Wang. The second time, she saw Boss Wang—and he was driving. The second time, she suggested bringing in foreign investment. He didn’t argue. Now, the third time, Boss Wang had finished his business and returned from Hong Kong.

So when Wang Yan said he cooked incredibly well, she believed him—even felt a little excited.

Finally finding the right lenses, Miss Wang fitted them into the frame, put them on, and turned to Wang Yan: “How do I look?”

“Beautiful.”

“Is it as good as you said?” She pulled out a small mirror, checking left and right, chuckling. “Hmm… it really does look good. I knew it—you always pick the right things.”

After enjoying the moment, she didn’t switch back. While packing up, she said: “At Night Tokyo, I’ll give you the money.”

“Alright.”

“How’s Hong Kong? Is it really that great?”

“It’s alright. Definitely better than inland China, but…”

As they ate pork and sweet potato cakes, Wang Yan told Miss Wang about Hong Kong—mostly repeating what he’d said at Night Tokyo.

Laughing and chatting, they finished the meal. Wang Yan drove Miss Wang home.

Miss Wang, bag in hand, wearing her new glasses, watched the car drive away…