Chapter 121: The Cat With Fluffed Fur—She

Li Ye didn’t know his casual action would bring undeserved disaster upon Wen Guohua—a man in his twenties still enduring double suppression from his parents.

He rushed to the Jianguo Gate Kemei Hotel, found Jin Peng and Wang Qiangqiang, and saw the two of them each with a bottle of beer, savoring peanuts and pig’s head meat.

“Bro, you’re back.”

Seeing Li Ye enter, Wang Qiangqiang immediately stood up, embarrassedly wiping his mouth.

You’ve been here for days and accomplished nothing—still having drinks and snacks at this hour? Did you forget those days of going hungry one moment and full the next?

Li Ye, sweating from cycling, said directly: “Open me a bottle, I’m parched.”

“Ah, ah, Brother, sit here.”

Wang Qiangqiang quickly stood, dragged over the nearby single bed, set the beer in front of Li Ye, and moved the pig’s head meat right to his side.

After gulping down half the bottle, Li Ye asked Jin Peng: “How was today?”

Jin Peng chuckled: “What else could it be? You’ve already stepped in—what’s left that can’t be done?”

“What do you mean I stepped in? You handled everything—you’re the one who deserves the credit.”

“You say that, and I feel ashamed,” Jin Peng said, taking a sip of beer. “I’ve been running around for six or seven days straight and haven’t seen a single house. Today, half-asleep, I almost got it done.”

“Got it done? Tell me quick—where’s the house?”

Li Ye instantly perked up—this was a house in the capital! As long as descendants weren’t too wasteful, one house could benefit three generations.

“Today I saw three houses—one in Zhongguancun, one in Zaojunmiao, one in Dazhongsi.”

Jin Peng explained to Li Ye: “The Zhongguancun and Dazhongsi houses are both run-down and still occupied by tenants.”

“The Zaojunmiao one looked good—no outsiders living there, but the owner wants to meet you, the buyer.”

“Meet me, the buyer?”

“Yes. The family seemed respectable, but they dislike people like Lao Qiu. I didn’t have local hukou, and they nearly ignored us, treating us like spies.”

“Then I said I was buying for my college-student cousin, and they agreed—but they’re asking eight thousand yuan.”

“Eight thousand yuan? That’s acceptable.”

The price was higher than Li Ye expected, but it was already 1982—there wasn’t much time to wait and pick slowly. Besides, Zaojunmiao was inside what would become the Third Ring Road—better location.

“Acceptable?” Jin Peng laughed. “Xiao Ye, the other two together only cost eight thousand yuan total! And if you pay today, they’ll write you a receipt immediately—once your hukou’s approved, they’ll process the paperwork right away.”

“You don’t understand,” Li Ye shook his head. “Good goods don’t worry about selling. I suggest you two look around too—grab a suitable one. If you trust me, put it under my name first, then transfer it to you later.”

Wang Qiangqiang immediately said: “Bro, I’ll buy one too—be your neighbor.”

But Jin Peng rubbed his scalp and said: “Is a house really that important? I think eight thousand yuan is better spent on a motorcycle!”

Then he excitedly added: “You know what, Li Ye? Today I saw Xing San riding an imported motorcycle—legit import, called something like Tianbi Xingfu 250, even more powerful.”

Li Ye finished his beer in a few swallows and said grandly: “Peng Ge, motorcycles are iron wrapped in meat. Once Hao Jian gets the affiliation paperwork done and we set up an office in Beijing, I’ll get you a car.”

“A car? Won’t that be too conspicuous?”

“Beijing’s huge—one car won’t stand out. Besides, we’re not buying a luxury model. A Volga should cost less than forty thousand, right?”

“A Volga!”

Jin Peng, still sober, felt light-headed.

The leap was too big—just over a month ago, he’d envied Li Ye’s 250. Now he was about to own a car?

A Volga?

What level was that? Sssss~

Beside him, Wang Qiangqiang’s eyes sparkled. He chuckled twice: “Buying a car’s great—I’ll be your driver, Peng Ge. Since I was a kid, I’ve wanted to be a driver—so badly.”

“Get lost—who doesn’t want to drive?”

The next morning, Li Ye told Jin Peng to meet at Zaojunmiao after dinner to see the house—he needed to get there early to pick up Wen Leyu for fried dough rings.

At 7:55, Li Ye arrived at the Zhongliang Courtyard gate and spotted the girl waiting outside.

Many workers passing through the courtyard glanced curiously at Wen Leyu, but she ignored them—until Li Ye appeared in the distance, when she smiled and waved her small arm.

He pedaled faster, asked: “Why are you out so early?”

Wen Leyu hopped onto the back seat, smiling: “Not early enough—I’m starving.”

Li Ye smiled apologetically and quickly took her away.

He felt genuinely ashamed—a girl who arrives early for a date deserves all the appreciation you can give.

In his past life, Li Ye and his friends, after countless experiences, distilled a simple way to spot bad girls.

Watch whether she’s late for dates.

If she’s late once every three times, that’s normal—social norms are like that. If she’s always early, her friends will tease her.

If she’s late twice every three times, don’t expect her to be considerate later—just be grateful she doesn’t psycho-manipulate you.

If she’s always half an hour or an hour late, with not even an “I’m sorry,” then think carefully.

Her world revolves only around herself—Earth itself should orbit her. Even Archimedes would be her servant.

Forcing things together isn’t impossible, but sweetness depends entirely on your tolerance.

Some people actually like that vibe.

Of course, if a guy follows the mindset “Good girls aren’t missed, bad girls aren’t wasted,” that’s the demon-fighting version—whose cultivation runs deeper, whose heart stays sweet.

Beijing’s fried dough rings are famous; the accompanying soy milk is even more so.

Wen Leyu sat on the back seat, directing Li Ye left and right until they reached a narrow alley—before even reaching the breakfast stall, the rich aroma hit them.

After stopping, Wen Leyu told Li Ye: “Try it first—this soy milk is the most authentic. Smells bad, but tastes good.”

Li Ye believed her. He and Wen Leyu each ordered a bowl, then took a small sip.

“O~”

The taste wasn’t as extreme as those exaggerated short videos, but the faint sour-stink really choked the throat.

Watching Wen Leyu hunched over her bowl, slurping happily, Li Ye pinched his nose and swallowed.

Her kindness was too great to refuse—she’d taken you this far early in the morning; how could you not show respect?

Absolutely mustn’t crush her enthusiasm—must cultivate her dependence on “eating breakfast together.”

Li Ye wolfed down three fried dough rings before finally swallowing the whole bowl of soy milk.

Then he looked up to see Wen Leyu staring at him expectantly: “Tasty?”

“Not bad.”

Li Ye smacked his lips—there really was a faint aftertaste of sweetness.

“Then drink my half-bowl too!”

Half the bowl of soy milk was swiftly pushed toward him by Wen Leyu’s small hand.

Li Ye: “...”

“Drink up—we’re going to the bookstore. It’s Sunday, lots of people—heehee.”

Wen Leyu smiled sweetly at Li Ye, her big eyes flickering with a barely noticeable mischief.

The once cold, detached girl showing mischief for the first time revealed a new charm.

After Li Ye finished the last bite of breakfast, Wen Leyu immediately took the bike, pedaling hard to take him straight to Haidian’s China Bookstore.

At the entrance, Li Ye finally understood what Wen Leyu meant by “lots of people.”

Li Ye, at 1.8 meters tall, saw nothing but heads ahead—fat, thin, handsome, ugly—all radiating thirst for knowledge.

In the 1980s, bookstores were among the key places shaping public thought; countless seekers of knowledge were regulars.

Back then, a young intellectual who didn’t visit a bookstore several times a month couldn’t claim to be “studious.”

But these guys took “studious” to extremes!

Inside the bookstore’s first floor, many carried thick notebooks—just like in a university library—grabbing books and copying them outright.

Even if bookstore staff shouted, it only lasted a few minutes before everyone went back to copying—crowds gathered, how could you possibly stop them?

Especially in the foreign language section, copyists were even more numerous.

Interestingly, at the entrance to the foreign language section stood a sign: “Foreigners Not Allowed.”

Not understanding, Li Ye didn’t speak—he just nodded toward the sign. The girl whispered an explanation.

“They say foreign books involve copyright. Books costing hundreds overseas sell here for just a few yuan, so this privilege is only for us.”

What privilege? Just pirated books!

Overseas, books were too expensive—too greedy.

If foreigners found out... they might cause a rush.

“Xiao Yu, should we go in? Maybe come back tomorrow?”

Wen Leyu was enrolled in Peking University’s English major, but seeing the crowd, Li Ye had no desire to squeeze in.

It was worse than a bus at Bawangfen—my little Yu was clean and fresh, but if she went in and came out sweaty, with nowhere to bathe, better to come back tomorrow.

After all, they still had several days free.

“We’re not going there—we’re going to the Second Counter.”

Wen Leyu pulled a stamped official letter from her bag, pulled Li Ye past the foreign language section,

and after staff verified the letter at a door, they entered the so-called Second Counter—immediately, the area grew quiet.

Li Ye was surprised—bookstores had privileged zones?

“There’s a Second and Third Counter. My letter doesn’t work for the Third—I have to go alone. I’ll bring you another day.”

As she spoke, Wen Leyu scanned left and right, then fixed her gaze and headed straight for a row of shelves.

“Quick, come look!”

Li Ye followed over and saw that each row of bookshelves had a label stuck on it—New Releases.

On a Chinese-language section shelf, dozens of copies of “Fires of the Deserted Soldier” were neatly arranged.

“Has it been put on sale?”

Li Ye was surprised, but more than that, he was delighted.

Although Dong Yuejin had already told him the news, the book contained so much real material that its actual publication still filled him with joy.

Wen Leyu nodded repeatedly: “Mom said the first print run is small—just a limited test release—but she doesn’t think there’ll be any problems; larger print runs should follow.”

“Yeah, now we’ve got royalty money to spend.”

Li Ye picked up a new copy and started flipping through it, not noticing Wen Leyu’s hesitant glance.

“Li Ye, I need to tell you something.”

Hearing Wen Leyu’s serious tone, Li Ye quickly said: “What is it? Go ahead.”

Wen Leyu said: “Next time you spend money, can you be more frugal? Don’t spend on things you don’t need.”

Li Ye instantly understood and said: “So we earn a yuan, spend two jiao, and save the remaining eight jiao—how’s that?”

Wen Leyu immediately relaxed and said: “Earning a yuan, spending five jiao isn’t wasteful.”

Li Ye smiled and said: “Fine, let’s start with your proofreading fee.”

Wen Leyu was even happier and nodded in agreement.

She casually picked up a copy of “Fires of the Deserted Soldier,” reading it with growing pride.

This work had her own effort too—her share was in the royalties!

“Jingyao, this is the new books section—I always find something new when I come here.”

Just as Li Ye and Wen Leyu were absorbed in their reading, two girls turned from behind the shelves and bumped right into them.

Li Ye stared in surprise at Liu Muhan and Lu Jingyao—how could such a vast capital city suddenly feel so small?

Liu Muhan was equally startled. For days she’d noticed Lu Jingyao’s low spirits, so today she’d specifically asked her father’s friend for an introduction letter and brought Lu Jingyao here to cheer up—how could she possibly run into Li Ye?

Lu Jingyao’s expression, of course, was far from pleasant.

She’d left Qingshui County early to avoid Li Ye, and had only just enjoyed a few days of peace—how could he keep haunting her?

Especially seeing Wen Leyu beside Li Ye, Lu Jingyao felt a storm of conflicting emotions.

Wen Leyu had changed.

A year ago, when Lu Jingyao had passed the college entrance exam and soared like a phoenix, Wen Leyu had been quiet, avoided everyone, and easily overlooked.

But now, Wen Leyu stood there quietly—and Lu Jingyao felt overwhelming pressure.

Lu Jingyao didn’t know what “presence” meant, but just Wen Leyu’s clothes, appearance, and expression told her: the little girl she once knew was the real phoenix.

The four met by chance: Li Ye frowned and said nothing; Lu Jingyao’s face darkened and said nothing; Wen Leyu remained silent, utterly still.

Helplessly, Liu Muhan waved at Li Ye to lighten the mood.

“Hey, big author, fancy meeting you again.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

Wen Leyu and Lu Jingyao both paled.

Lu Jingyao stared at Liu Muhan, as if asking: How do you know Li Ye?

Wen Leyu didn’t look at Li Ye—she coldly turned her gaze to Liu Muhan.

Liu Muhan felt a chill run through her, deeply startled.

She’d seen Wen Leyu at the train station before—cheerful, jumping to greet Li Ye—she hadn’t seemed this intimidating at all!

Wen Leyu spoke, cool and clear.

“You know each other?”

“We met by chance on the train—I saw you when you came to pick him up that day.”

“Oh, that’s quite a coincidence.”

Only then did Wen Leyu turn to Li Ye, as if seeking confirmation.

Li Ye, who had lived two lives, was deeply puzzled.

These past few days, he and Wen Leyu had gotten along so well—he’d thought the girl was as gentle as a kitten, adorable, her occasional little pokes as playful as chasing a ball of yarn.

But now… she was quite formidable.

A cat with its fur standing on end wasn’t a cat anymore—it was a tiger.

Thank you to the reader who gifted 1000 coins. Thank you to readers “Lan Ruoshui” and “Feng” for 1500 coins each. Thank you to reader “Live Freely” for the gift. Thank you to reader “Koko Message” for 1000 coins.

Thank you all, brothers—truly, deeply grateful.

(End of Chapter)