Chapter 41

Fang Qingye had no idea about the group’s messages; he went home, ate dinner, then headed to the sports field for a badminton match. He’d planned to call Liu Dong, but the man said he had plans that evening.

Asking Xia He didn’t seem right either, so he went alone. He met a middle-aged man—he didn’t know him—but the man was decently skilled. They played a match, and by the time he got home, it was already past nine.

He played another round of Warcraft, then logged into QQ and saw the sailor-suited avatar of the Dongguan girl flashing. He clicked to read her message.

“Husband, you’re amazing! Your data absolutely obliterated everyone in the group—though of course they won’t admit it.”

“But I can’t transfer the fifty thousand you promised right now. I didn’t expect you to finish so fast. Tomorrow I’ll contact the bank’s research center and hand over your model for final evaluation. It’ll take two or three more days for the funds to clear.”

“Wow… I’m falling harder for you, husband. What should I do? Love’s fragments are gathering now—yet even if I wished for just one small thing, it might not carry my longing to you…”

Seeing this line, Fang Qingye knew her otaku delusions had flared up again.

He didn’t reply. He glanced through other groups but found nothing worthwhile, then logged off.

The Dongguan girl kept her word: three days later, the fifty thousand yuan arrived. She added one more note: “Husband, Director Zhou of the Bank Research Center greatly admires your modeling skills. He’s asking if you’d consider moving to Yanjing to join the center? High salary.”

Move to Yanjing?

Build models every day?

What’s the difference from my past life doing securities analysis in Shanghai?

Am I insane? Going back to being a slave again.

Fang Qingye declined outright.

He immediately spent all fifty thousand yuan on Yanjing tourism stock. The stock was still in its early rally phase—there was still time.

Done.

By late June, the weather had grown scorching, but the plum rain season hadn’t ended. Persistent rain, heat, and humidity made precipitation the dominant theme of Nanxin’s climate—rain accompanied nearly every day, leaving Fang Qingye irritable.

Today was Friday. Fang Qingye had arranged to play badminton with Xia He—at this point, they’d settled on Friday evenings, and Xia He no longer rushed home.

It was raining. Fang Qingye didn’t want to go, but Xia He insisted—she messaged him on QQ, called repeatedly. He couldn’t refuse, so he packed up and braved the rain to the Yi Kang Sports Center with her.

After the match, Fang Qingye rode home in Xia He’s car. He entered the house, ready to head to his bedroom, when his mother, Zhang Meili, who was snacking on sunflower seeds and watching TV in the living room, suddenly said: “Off to play again?”

“Mm.”

“With your classmate Liu Dong?”

“Yeah.”

“No way. I saw you get into a white BMW at the gate around seven. Did Liu Dong buy a BMW?!”

Seeing his mother’s sharp gaze, Fang Qingye had no choice but to say: “Not with Liu Dong. With Director Xia.”

“You played badminton with Director Xia?!” His mother’s tone held a hint of surprise.

“Yeah, what’s wrong? She likes badminton, and she’s pretty good, so we play occasionally.” Fang Qingye spoke plainly.

“Do you play together often?”

“Not often. At most once a week.”

“Where?”

“Yi Kang Sports Center.”

“What time to what time?”

“Seven-thirty to nine-thirty. Two hours.”

Zhang Meili glanced at her son again. Seeing his calm expression, she said nothing more.

Seeing his mother’s silence, Fang Qingye turned to head to his room—but she called him back.

“Tomorrow night, your second uncle is treating us. Don’t forget.”

Fang Qingye was surprised: “My second uncle is treating us? Why?”

“Because he’s become bureau chief.”

Oh… that.

He remembered.

Fang Qingye’s grandfather had two sons: the elder, Fang Jianwen; the younger, Fang Qingye’s second uncle, Fang Jianhua, now forty, formerly a township secretary, recently transferred to the county and appointed director of the County Finance Bureau.

Though both positions were at the Zhengke level—technically a lateral move—the County Finance Bureau Director held real power, commonly called the “God of Wealth.” And at forty, Fang Jianhua was in the prime of his career—his future was bright.

As a nephew, he naturally couldn’t miss this.

Fang Qingye agreed, then went into his room.

The next afternoon, Fang Qingye returned home from work and changed into a T-shirt and jeans. His father, Fang Jianwen—who rarely came home for dinner—unexpectedly returned early, clearly to attend his brother’s banquet.

The dinner was at Zhao’s Restaurant. Fang Qingye had planned to drive, but his father stopped him: “Why drive? Aren’t you going to toast your second uncle? Aren’t you going to drink with your grandfather?”

So the whole family took a taxi straight to the restaurant.

At Zhao’s Restaurant on Changle Road, they entered a private room—it was essentially a small family gathering. At the head table sat two elderly people: Fang Qingye’s grandparents.

His grandfather, Fang Guisheng, had once been a worker at the county forestry farm. After retirement, restless, he rented land on the outskirts of town to grow seedlings and flowers. The business did well.

Now, though they owned a house, the two elders lived in a simple shed beside the nursery, tending it daily—content enough.

Fang Jianhua and his wife had already arrived and were chatting with the parents.

Fang Jianhua’s wife, Liu Ying, was a section chief at the County Radio and Television Bureau. Seeing Fang Jianwen’s family enter, she immediately smiled and greeted them.

“Big brother, sister-in-law, you’re here.”

“Xiao Ye, is work busy?”

Fang Jianwen and the others replied. Once everyone was seated, Fang Qingye noticed an empty seat and asked:

“Where’s Xiao Lin?”

Hearing this, Fang Jianhua’s face darkened slightly, but he said nothing. Liu Ying sighed and explained: “He hasn’t come back. Don’t know which internet café he’s at. That kid… sigh.”

Xiao Lin, Fang Qinglin, was the couple’s beloved son, fourteen, in the second year of Chengguan Middle School. He’d always been smart and did well in school, but last year he became addicted to games, spending every day in internet cafés—his grades plummeted.

Fang Jianhua was too busy to manage him; Liu Ying couldn’t control him. That’s how things stood.

Hearing his aunt say this, Fang Qingye said: “Should I go find him at an internet café?”

“Leave him alone. Let’s eat,” Fang Jianhua replied. Fang Qingye said no more.

It was a family gathering, so no formalities were needed. They poured their drinks, ate, and chatted. Fang Jianwen and his brother exchanged news from the bureaucracy; Fang Qingye chatted with his grandparents about the nursery; Liu Ying and Zhang Meili, the two sisters-in-law, talked about whose son got into university, whose daughter married well, and so on.

Mostly, Liu Ying spoke; Zhang Meili listened silently.

At that moment, Liu Ying seemed to think of something. She glanced at Fang Qingye, seated at the lower end of the table, and smiled: “Xiao Ye, have you found a girlfriend yet?”

“No,” Fang Qingye answered honestly.

“You’ve got a steady job now. You should find one. Shall I introduce you to someone?”