Chapter 357: You Can Only Control Your Own Money

Li Ye had always believed that every Chinese proverb concealed a solid truth.

For instance, the saying "A son never despises his mother's ugliness, a dog never despises his home's poverty" warns people not to scorn their parents—that would invite lightning strikes—and not to blame their humble origins for their misfortunes.

So when he saw Yang Yujiao avoiding him, Li Ye decided to visit her family's restaurant.

If Yang Yumin harbored even a trace of shame toward his own mother, Li Ye felt he had been blind all this time, utterly misjudging the man.

But when Li Ye went, Zhen Rongrong and the others followed him.

When Li Ye and the group arrived at Yang Yumin's small restaurant, Yang Yumin was sweating profusely as he kneaded dough, while his mother, Yang Huaisheng, was busy wrapping dumplings.

Seeing Yang Yujiao enter, Yang Huaisheng hurriedly urged, "Niece, you're finally back—quick, take the lunch orders to the East District, you're already late."

But as Yang Huaisheng stood up, she spotted Li Ye and the others behind her daughter.

She paused, then offered a simple, warm smile, but didn't immediately speak to Li Ye—instead, she glanced toward Yang Yumin, still bent over the dough.

Li Ye smiled and said, "Old Yang, the guys came to support your business—don't you even say hello?"

"Huh?"

Yang Yumin finally looked up and saw Li Ye and the others.

"Li Ye, what are you doing here?"

Li Ye grinned. "I just ran into your sister—she pretended not to know me. What's this about? Afraid we'll see you, a college student, kneading dough?"

"Why be embarrassed? Everyone, sit down! If you're thirsty, help yourselves to some noodle broth."

Yang Yumin kept working, smiling at Li Ye. "You guys mind looking after the classmates? I'll be done in a minute—today's May Day, too many customers, my mom can't handle it alone."

Li Ye watched Yang Yumin's reaction—he was utterly sincere, not a hint of shame or embarrassment.

He was nothing like those college kids who looked down on their parents for being old-fashioned and embarrassing.

Poverty wasn't scary. Hardship wasn't scary. As long as your values were right, nothing was to fear.

Even if Yang Yumin were just average, Li Ye could easily nudge him, warn him about pitfalls, and set him on a smooth path to success.

Li Ye rolled up his sleeves. "Forget it—I'll help you knead. Everyone's hungry. Just start boiling noodles, or dumplings are fine too."

Yang Yumin quickly raised his hands to block him. "No way! I'll admit you're better at writing, but kneading dough? You can't match me. I'm almost done—wait twenty minutes, I'll get everyone lunch."

Yang Huaisheng also stepped forward. "Boy, sit down—why should you lift a finger? Just wait, it'll be ready soon."

But while Yang Huaisheng stopped Li Ye, Zhen Rongrong and the others eagerly jumped in to help.

"Auntie, don't worry about us—we'll handle it ourselves."

"Exactly—we know Yang Yumin. We're not strangers."

Several girls got to work—some fetched bowls, others dropped dumplings into boiling water. Though there weren't enough chairs and some had to stand, everyone got their lunch.

Then Zhen Rongrong and Chen Xiaoling quietly passed word: everyone should pool their spare change and grain coupons to pay after eating.

Yang Huaisheng refused outright, frantically pushing back against Zhen Rongrong, pulling and tugging as if they were fighting.

"How can you kids be so stubborn? Can't we even afford to feed you? Are you looking down on us?"

"Auntie, you're wrong. We may be younger, but we all get salaries—over twenty yuan a month! Just take it."

"No, no—if we take money, people will laugh at us!"

Watching the mother and daughter tug endlessly, Yang Yumin stepped forward and took the bills and grain coupons from Zhen Rongrong's hands.

Then he smiled. "Thanks, everyone, for coming today! I'll treat you all to a meal back at school sometime."

Yang Huaisheng froze, furious. "Yumin, how can you take money? How can you—"

"Mom, if you don't take it, they won't leave."

"Still, you can't!"

Seizing the moment of their bickering, Li Ye and the others slipped out of the restaurant.

Zhen Rongrong exhaled, vowing never again to spend money at a friend's shop—refusing payment was worse than being overcharged.

But they were all economics students—and some had sharper financial instincts.

"Did you see? Yang Yumin's restaurant sent out two orders already—each with two large food boxes, each box holding at least twenty to thirty portions."

"That's at least two to three hundred portions a day. Even if he makes one jiao profit per portion, that's twenty to thirty yuan daily—monthly that's—my god."

He Dazhuang scoffed immediately. "One jiao profit per meal? You're clueless—do you even know how many noodles you can make from a kilo of flour?"

"The noodles we just ate? He's making at least one and a half jiao per portion. Each dumpling? At least two jiao."

"..."

Li Ye stopped walking, his face darkening. "Hey, classmates—making two jiao profit off you, and you feel cheated?"

"..."

No one replied. They hadn't expected Li Ye to snap—he usually kept quiet, but when he did speak up, he was debate-team level.

But Li Ye wasn't done. "The noodles we ate cost thirty-five fen, dumplings fifty fen. Outside, state-run restaurants charge forty fen for noodles, sixty fen for dumplings."

"Why don't you think it's expensive at the state places, but it's too much here?"

"How much they earn is their business—why are we calculating their profits for them? Do you only feel comfortable eating for free?"

"..."

"No, no, Li Ye—you're wrong. We feel uncomfortable eating for free!"

"Exactly! Even if we know Yang Yumin, paying for meals is only right. Not paying is rude."

The group stared for several seconds, then quickly explained, terrified of being labeled "freeloaders."

Li Ye was genuinely angry. The portions Yang Huaisheng served were half again as large as other restaurants', and cheaper by several fen. Yet He Dazhuang and the others were calculating her profit.

If someone sold you a cup of plain boiled water for five yuan in winter, wouldn't you want to blast them with a Gatling gun?

He Dazhuang felt unfairly scolded.

He muttered weakly, "But state-run restaurants' profits belong to everyone—private ones? Those are personal earnings."

"..."

The group paused, thinking that made sense—until someone called out behind them.

"Wait! Students, wait!"

They turned to see Yang Yumin chasing after them.

He wasn't empty-handed—he carried two cases of Pengcheng Red Bull, clearly just bought from the store.

He caught up, tore open the packaging, and handed each person a can like a smoker passing out cigarettes.

"Try it—don't disrespect me!"

"What do you mean 'drink enough'? Take it and drink later—do you look down on me?"

Soon, everyone held a can of Pengcheng Red Bull.

Li Ye smiled, opened his first, took a sip, then said, "Do you understand now?"

"..."

Zhen Rongrong didn't get it—she slowly shook her head.

Li Ye raised his can. "This drink? Yang Yumin bought it for us—with his royalties. The meal we just ate? His mother's labor.

Yang Yumin can spend his own money however he wants—but he can't decide how others spend theirs. Not even his mother's. What we gave wasn't just payment—it was respect for a working person."

"So how others earn or spend their money isn't our concern. Our concern is how we earn and spend our own."

"..."

Zhen Rongrong and the others went back to their social practice. Li Ye stayed behind to chat with Yang Yumin.

Li Ye said, "Your mom's restaurant is too busy—she needs to hire help."

Yang Yumin shook his head, smiling bitterly. "I've told her. But she refuses—hiring someone costs twenty to thirty yuan a month. She can't bear to spend it."

Li Ye said, "That won't do. She'll wear herself out, and it'll hurt your sister's studies. You also need a refrigerator—pre-make dumplings and store them."

Yang Yumin looked even more frustrated. "I thought of that—I have some foreign exchange, enough for a fridge. But my mom calls me a wastrel and whacks me with the rolling pin."

"..."

Li Ye watched Yang Yumin's "complaint"—but noticed a look of quiet joy on his face, as if being beaten by his mother brought him comfort.

Actually, when your mother hesitates to scold you, you should ask yourself why.

Li Ye thought a moment. "Old Yang, you can see your mom's business will grow. You need to guide her toward management—not just cooking."

"She won't trust anyone," Yang Yumin sighed. "Your sister already told me this—she's studying economics now, has it all figured out."

Li Ye: "..."

Li Ye knew his sister Li Yue hadn't just coasted in Pengcheng Seventh Factory after arriving in the capital.

She'd diligently mastered her own duties, studied for self-taught exams, and enrolled in night school.

But he never imagined Li Yue had grown confident enough to lecture Yang Yumin.

That was good—Li Yue didn't feel inferior to Yang Yumin because of her education.

And Yang Yumin didn't seem to mock her either.

"Old Yang, solutions always outnumber problems. If you're stuck, bring in reinforcements. Sometimes a little cleverness with elders isn't disrespect."

Li Ye patted Yang Yumin's shoulder and walked off.

"..."

Yang Yumin returned to his restaurant, opened the last can of Pengcheng Red Bull, and handed it to his sister.

He knew if he didn't open it, she'd keep it hidden under her quilt for half a month without drinking it.

Yang Yujiao had delivered countless meals all afternoon—she was panting like a husky, tongue lolling out. She took a sip and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

"Ah~"

But as Yang Yujiao took her second sip, her mother muttered, "You two are showing off! Drinking a whole can of piss—wastes half a month's wages."

"Mom, it's not the smell of horse urine! Try it."

"Get out, get out, can't you see I'm not done yet? As soon as you're free, go do your homework—getting you into school wasn't easy, and if you don't study hard—"

"Mom, I finished my homework yesterday!"

"Then do it again!"

"."

Yang Yuqiao pouted, quietly placed the nearly full can of Pengcheng Red Bull beside her mother, then picked up her schoolbag and walked away obediently.

Mom was even more stubborn than me!

Yang Yumin watched his sister walk away, then walked over to Yang Huaihua and said in a low voice: "Mom, Li Ye just said something to me."

Yang Huaihua froze, then asked anxiously: "What did he say?"

Yang Yumin replied: "He said I'm unfilial—for not hiring someone to help you, for not buying you a refrigerator."

"Then explain it to him!" Yang Huaihua cried out. "I didn't want any of that! What's the point of your nose if you can't speak up when it matters?"

Yang Yumin pulled a long face. "I did tell him—but my classmate Li Ye isn't easygoing. If he says I'm unfilial, then I'm unfilial."

"You don't know him—he's been the little emperor at home since he was a kid. Even his father and grandfather listen to him, let alone Li Yue."

Li Ye had asked Yang Yumin to bring reinforcements—actually, he wanted his sister Li Yue to intervene.

But how clever was Yang Yumin? How could he damage the relationship between Mom and Li Yue?

Wasn't it better to use Li Ye himself as the sacrificial lamb?

"Then—"

Yang Huaihua finally sighed in resignation: "Fine, hire someone then! Sigh… Such a good girl, Li Yue—how did she end up with such a tyrant of a brother?"

"Mom, don't you dare say anything bad about his brother to Li Yue's face! Or I'll get dragged into it."

"I know, I know—go tend to your own business! Work assignments are coming soon; don't keep running over here."

After driving Yang Yumin away, Yang Huaihua sighed again and began cleaning up the stove.

But then she thought again: even if she hired someone, it would still be worth it—once she had help, she could firmly forbid Yang Yumin from coming over to help, and that would be a good thing.

Once she'd made up her mind, Yang Huaihua noticed the nearly full can of Pengcheng Red Bull.

She picked it up and took a sip.

Sweet.

As sweet as a good life.

(End of chapter)