Chapter 871: Is This Requirement Too Simple?

Someone once said that if you take an ordinary person, place her in an environment unsuited to her, raise her daily spending level so she can no longer live an ordinary life, but give her no means to sustain that lifestyle,

then give her a sum of money sufficient to maintain that life for a while—can you guess what her final outcome will be?

Ning Pingping used to be exactly like that.

Perhaps Ning Pingping sensed something was off; after returning, she tried to reinvent herself, to prove her worth, to prove she wasn’t just a pretty face.

But Ning Pingping never understood that no matter how hard she worked or how ambitious she became, she could never change Wen Guohua’s view of her.

Just like decades later, those “old fairy” women in Beijing who earn 200,000–300,000 a year, exhausting themselves to craft an image of refined independence, believing it will lift them two social tiers,

yet to those earning over a million a year, their so-called refinement, career, and pursuits hold zero value—because your 300,000 isn’t even enough to cover your own expenses, so how does it help you?

But a man earning 300,000 a year will value your thoughts and ambitions only if he needs you to help pay off loans together,

yet these women can’t willingly become baby-making machines for a man earning 300,000—they’ve watched too many TV dramas and think a baby-making machine deserves at least a million a year; how could she sacrifice her dignity for a man who only makes 300,000?

What they don’t realize is that those earning a million a year are the elite among men, and countless young, beautiful girls are perfectly willing to abandon dignity—they know exactly what they’re supposed to offer.

So tell me, which kind of woman do you think Wen Guohua would choose now—the one clinging to dignity, or the one who doesn’t care?

And as for Li Ye?

In terms of emotional connection, he and Wen Leyu have reached a state of “soul resonance”;

in terms of support, he can help Wen Leyu walk with impunity within Zhongxin Company, even at the rank of Section Chief.

“Hmph, just wait and see how I’ll deal with you tonight!”

After pinching Li Ye’s ear until it turned red, Wen Leyu stormed off, hurling those words.

Li Ye rubbed his swollen ear and couldn’t help but flash a foolish smile.

They’re both parents now—if they didn’t roughhouse every now and then, they’d feel like they’d grown old.

Is Ning Pingping even comparable?

Before the Lantern Festival, the Huājiā people typically spend their days visiting relatives and friends; families with many relatives and friends often can’t finish all their visits within fifteen days.

But decades later, families that manage to visit for just three or five days are considered to have good social connections.

On the fifth day of the first lunar month, Sunday.

After Li Ye and Wen Leyu had breakfast, they dressed the two children and their younger brother Xiao You’an, taught them the gesture for “Gongxi Faca” several times, and waited for visitors to arrive so they could collect red envelopes.

“Gongxi Faca~—fold both hands in front of your chest. Oh, you big brother, you’re so clumsy—you’re way behind your sister, barely better than your little uncle.”

“Wu wu, fa chai, fa chai~”

Xiao Dou seemed to understand her father’s praise, waving her tiny hands excitedly, even more endearing.

Li Ye beamed and praised: “Look at this—my daughter’s amazing; if we don’t make at least thirty or fifty thousand today, we’d be wasting her brilliance.”

“.”

Grandma Wu Juying scolded: “Why don’t you just ask for a million? All you think about is drilling into money.”

Li Ye replied calmly: “If they give me a million, I won’t refuse.”

“.”

The sisters all laughed.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, Li Dayong and Pei Wencong arrived in Beijing from Hong Kong, and Hao Jian and Jin Peng also arrived in Beijing that same morning—all had agreed to visit today.

For them, thirty thousand, fifty thousand, a million—it’s all the same; just a New Year’s red envelope.

At 9:30 a.m., Pei Wencong, Luo Runbo, Li Dayong, and Pei Wenhui arrived first.

“Fa chai, fa chai~”

Xiao Dou, held in Li Ye’s arms, bowed to Pei Wencong with both hands, kicking her little legs vigorously, putting on a full show.

Xiao Bao also tried hard, but being tongue-tied, could only mumble “wu wu wu,” and her hand gestures were very unsteady.

As for little brother Xiao You’an, though two months older than the two nephews and niece, he timidly waved his arms, barely two swings before turning around to cling to his mother Han Chunmei’s neck, blushing like a shy girl.

But superstitious Pei Wencong was overjoyed and immediately pulled out his prepared red envelope.

“Fa cai, fa cai~ Gongxi Faca~ Take it, take it~”

Pei Wencong’s red envelope wasn’t cash—it was a solid gold medal, heavy and substantial, gleaming brightly and delighting children.

Although gold in the 1980s cost only a few dozen yuan per gram, Li Ye’s household had three little children, plus four sisters and cousins—this round of gifts added up to a considerable sum.

Pei Wenhui and Luo Runbo also prepared gold red envelopes, slipping them one by one into the children’s hands until the kids couldn’t hold them all.

Xiao Dou pondered for a few seconds, then handed the extra gold pieces to her father, clutching one medal to her mouth as if testing its purity.

“Hahaha, so adorable—let me hold you~ let me hold you~”

Pei Wenhui reached over, took the child, and affectionately sniffed the baby’s milky scent.

At that moment, Li Ye noticed Zhou Huimin, clutching a red envelope, smiling awkwardly.

She was only twenty, from a family with modest means; Pei Wencong hadn’t prepared a gold medal for her—how could she afford a gold envelope worth tens of thousands?

Perhaps she understood why Pei Wencong hadn’t prepared gold for her—it was to highlight her status.

She was different from Luo Runbo, Li Ye, Pei Wenhui, and others.

Li Ye nudged Xiao Dou and pointed to Zhou Huimin: “There’s another aunt over there—go say Gongxi Faca.”

Xiao Dou, always obedient to her father, stretched out both hands toward Zhou Huimin, babbling as she collected her “service fee.”

Zhou Huimin hurriedly handed over the red envelope, silently praying the child wouldn’t reject it—after all, the difference between a gleaming gold medal and a simple red paper envelope was enormous.

But Xiao Dou happily clutched the red envelope, giggling, then reached out for Zhou Huimin to hold her.

Zhou Huimin quickly took the child, cradling her carefully, as if holding her own future.

Before coming to Beijing, Pei Wencong had warned her: today he’d introduce her to a VIP; if the VIP found her acceptable, her fortune would turn.

Zhou Huimin didn’t understand—what kind of “VIP” could make Pei Wencong so cautious? After all, over the past two years, Pei Wencong’s momentum in Hong Kong had been unmatched.

Hong Kong businessmen valued face immensely; they’d feud over land, incense, even trivial things, and many rising new tycoons had been crushed by established clans in such feuds.

But over the past two years, all the old clans seemed to have coordinated—whenever they encountered Pei Wencong, they automatically stepped aside.

Though Pei Wencong maintained restraint, never declaring “this is mine, that’s mine too,” his reputation had already reached the level of Li Ka-shing.

But since entering Li Ye’s home today, Zhou Huimin clearly sensed Pei Wencong was completely different.

Though Li Ye showed no airs, Pei Wencong’s humility and reverence toward him were things Zhou Huimin had never seen before.

After Zhou Huimin returned Xiao Dou to Pei Wenhui, Pei Wencong introduced her to Li Ye: “Mr. Li, this is Huimin, whom I mentioned—she sings and acts; I think her image suits Fenghua Clothing.”

Li Ye looked at the youthful version of “Little Jew” and wondered internally whether her life path would change because of him.

Though this lifetime’s Li Ye viewed celebrities entirely differently from his past life, he still hoped the classic version of “The Greed of Man” would appear as planned.

Li Ye asked calmly: “Can you speak Mandarin?”

Zhou Huimin was startled and quickly replied: “I speak Guoyu—I’ve been correcting my accent with a tutor for the past year.”

Li Ye nodded: “Although Fenghua Clothing’s market is global, it’s ultimately a mainland brand—you must understand where your roots lie.”

Zhou Huimin answered without hesitation: “I know—I’m Huājiā, not British.”

Li Ye smiled and said to Pei Wencong: “I think she’s good.”

Pei Wencong laughed: “If Mr. Li says she’s good, then she’s good! Huimin, thank Mr. Li.”

“.”

Zhou Huimin was stunned.

She’d imagined many possibilities before coming—even the most sordid ones—but she never expected it to end with just two simple questions.

【Is this requirement too simple?】