Chapter 347

After finishing his call with Pei Wencong and putting down the receiver, Li Ye also felt a sudden chill.

He spun around sharply and saw his sister Li Yue standing at the door, eyebrows furrowed, eyes sharp and cold.

Li Yue waved the kitchen knife in her hand and said coldly, "Little Ye! I just heard you say girls nineteen are already too old?"

Li Ye blinked, dumbfounded—I just said it offhand, why are you taking it personally?

But seeing Li Ye pretend ignorance, she turned and asked behind her, "Xiao Yu, did you hear that?"

Wen Leyu stepped forward, nodding with a faint, knowing smile.

Li Ye took Wen Leyu far more seriously—he smiled gently and said, "Xiao Yu, weren't you eighteen when I met you?"

Wen Leyu glanced at Li Ye, actually tilted her head to think, then corrected him: "No, I was seventeen that year."

Li Ye chuckled, "For beautiful girls, every year is eighteen. Those who complain about time aging them are just ugly."

"I called Old Pei just now because some woman, thirty-eight or thirty-nine, kept pestering him to be friends, so I used that harsh line to shut her down."

Li Ye, helpless, still dragged Pei Wencong into it, sparking Li Yue and Wen Leyu's gossip instincts.

In fact, these past few days, Li Ye hadn't spoken to his sister Li Yue—or rather, since returning from the South Seas to Jingcheng, she'd been sulking with him.

Originally, Li Ye had casually mentioned to his sister that he'd write something about Fu Guiru; Li Yue immediately took it to heart, and after he returned, she pestered him nonstop with questions.

But Li Ye hadn't even drafted an outline yet! How could he satisfy her inquiries?

Then Li Yue accused Li Ye of being heartless—spending all day writing history and running businesses, yet doing not one "meaningful thing."

Li Ye knew his sister was grieving over Fu Guiru; in her memory, their mother had vanished into those black waves on the fifteenth day of that first lunar month.

Fu Guiru had told Li Ye, "Give me a little more time," so Li Ye had temporarily withheld the truth from her, feeling guilty.

Today, Li Ye came at five to wait for Pei Wencong's call, hoping to finish the conversation before Li Yue got home from work.

But Pei Wencong was forty minutes late—that's why Li Ye, in a fit of frustration, blurted out that "nineteen is too old."

"Pei Wencong is ridiculous—why get involved with a woman like that?"

"Little Yue, this isn't Pei's fault. A single man like him in Hong Kong would naturally attract a flock of flirts."

The two girls launched into gossip with no end in sight; Li Ye couldn't get a word in.

"Sis, about tonight's dinner—"

"Oh right! I almost forgot. Here, take the knife and chop the vegetables. I'll cook."

Looking at the knife now in his hands, Li Ye could only sigh and head quietly to the kitchen.

Back in Qinghe, Li Yue hardly ever cooked.

But since coming to Jingcheng, whenever she was home, she always cooked herself—never letting her younger brother lift a spoon.

That's the duty of an older sister.

Even decades later, when girlfriends routinely made boyfriends cook, it was still rare to see an older sister make her brother cook for her.

But today, the "story" Li Ye dropped was too big—Pei Wencong had been chased by a woman in her late thirties, enough to keep the two girls gossiping for half an hour, meaning Li Ye would starve if he waited for them to cook.

Li Ye chopped vegetables and minced meat with practiced ease, fired up the wok, stirred, fried—it took little effort.

But just as the dishes were nearly ready, Wen Leyu called from the doorway: "Li Ye, where's your inspiration notebook? Let me see."

Li Ye kept working, not turning around: "Second drawer. The black one."

Since inspiration fades fast, Li Ye had long developed the habit of jotting things down—he'd amassed many notebooks over the years, some useful, some not. Wen Leyu sometimes flipped through them; Li Ye never cared.

But after Wen Leyu left, Li Ye realized—this was almost certainly Li Yue's doing. She still hadn't given up, hoping to peek at his "inspiration and material," then write her own tribute to Fu Guiru.

"Sigh~"

Li Ye sighed but didn't stop her. If writing could help Li Yue channel her longing for Fu Guiru, it might not be a bad thing.

But when Li Ye brought the four dishes and soup to the table, he saw Li Yue and Wen Leyu weren't reading any notebooks—they each held a watch, laughing and chatting.

"Li Ye, you bought a watch and didn't say a word? Wasn't it meant for Xiao Yu? Or are you saving it for a surprise?"

"Little Yue, don't joke. This watch must have some purpose for Li Ye!"

Li Ye set the dishes down and walked over: "These watches are for both of you, but I didn't buy them—they were a gift from a kind overseas Chinese."

"A gift?" Li Yue blinked. "Little Ye, how could you just accept something like this? This watch clearly isn't cheap—must be several hundred yuan at least!"

Li Ye smiled: "It's expensive, yes, but I promised to help her find relatives on the mainland. It's her payment."

"Hmm, then you must help her find them."

Li Yue slipped the watch on her wrist, admiring it more and more.

But Li Ye hesitated: "Sis, uh… when she gave me the watches, she gave me two—these two."

Li Ye pointed to the IWC and the Cartier in Wen Leyu's hand.

Then he pointed to the Blancpain on Li Yue's wrist: "Then she found out I had a girlfriend, so she gave me this one… so…"

"Hahaha~ Xiao Yu, see? I told you so!"

Hearing Li Ye's awkward explanation, Li Yue didn't get upset—she burst into laughter.

After laughing, she said: "The moment I saw these two watches, I knew the better one was meant for Xiao Yu. But Xiao Yu insisted the one with the thin band was hers."

"I thought—you've never heard the saying, 'Once you marry, you forget your mother'? The best things go to your wife. Here, this one's yours."

Li Yue took off the Blancpain, pressed it into Wen Leyu's hand, and reclaimed the Cartier for herself.

But Wen Leyu flashed Li Ye a big, pleading look—clearly wanting to swap them back.

If a hundred-thousand-yuan watch and a ten-thousand-yuan watch couldn't be distinguished by a normal person, they'd be failed designs.

The Blancpain, the moment touched, clearly felt superior to the Cartier.

But the Cartier was the one Fu Guiru had picked for Li Yue—stylish, modern, perfect for a girl in her early twenties.

The Blancpain, though clearly expensive, carried an air of "dignified elegance," suited more for a matriarch.

Wen Leyu wasn't even thinking about being a "matriarch"—she and Li Ye hadn't even broken through that barrier yet. Psychologically, she was still a little girl, and naturally preferred the youthful, stylish Cartier.

Li Ye's mind turned, and he smiled: "These watches are heartfelt gifts—don't reject them!"

"Also, Xiao Yu, this one's design is more reserved—it suits mature women. But in a few years, you'll be just right for it. Let me hold onto it for now."

"No, I'm wearing it now."

Before Li Ye finished speaking, Wen Leyu's attitude changed instantly—she slipped the Blancpain onto her wrist, turned it this way and that, clearly delighted.

Li Ye had to admit: women were truly contradictory creatures.

The older the woman, the more she hated being called mature—she wanted to be told she was as fresh as young greens.

The younger the girl, the more she hated being called childish—she longed to be called "mature, womanly."

It was a contradiction. An unsolvable one.

……

The three had just picked up their chopsticks, ready to enjoy Li Ye's cooking, when Ba Pu Luofu barked loudly.

Then came the sound of a car—Li Dayong and Pei Wenhui arrived together.

Li Yue laughed and scolded: "You two came smelling the food? Perfect timing."

Pei Wenhui, already close to Li Yue, smiled back: "We figured you didn't cook for us, so we ate outside."

"Ridiculous. If I didn't cook for you, did I not leave you chopsticks? Go get your bowls and eat."

"Aww~ Little Yue, you're so generous."

Pei Wenhui grabbed bowls and chopsticks, then tenderly ladled rice porridge into Li Dayong's bowl—her gentleness made Li Yue roll her eyes.

If you had to compare, Li Yue was a classic northern girl; Pei Wenhui was a true southern delicate blossom.

And Wen Leyu? She was both—perfect.

After dinner, Li Dayong grinned at Li Ye: "Bro, let's test-drive the new car! You haven't driven it since the plates were put on!"

Pei Wencong had gifted his sister a Mini BMW with joint-venture plates; these past days, the two had spent every moment together practicing driving, their relationship surging forward, and Li Dayong had shed his earlier shyness.

"Hah, you're showing off to me!"

Li Ye laughed, stood up, and went out with Li Dayong.

He knew Li Dayong's nature—this wasn't about showing off. He had something to say.

Once outside, Li Ye took the wheel without hesitation, speeding north for miles—thrilling, exhilarating.

"Bro, yesterday at Changbei Machinery, things got really heated. Manager Wang nearly slammed his fist on the table, called your sales bonus plan nonsense, and said whoever drafted it was a reactionary."

"Skreeee~"

Li Ye pulled over, turned to Li Dayong: "Called me a reactionary? That's his level of awareness?"

The joint venture between Changbei Machinery and Hong Kong finally went through after this year's Spring Festival, renamed "Changbei Machinery Joint Stock Company," with Hong Kong holding 49 percent.

But Hong Kong controlled R&D and sales—the two core areas—so Li Ye thought the deal was still worthwhile. He never expected trouble so soon after opening.