Chapter 230: Remaking the Yan Family

Xiangjiang, nightclub booth

Yan Li looked at Xiao Huang Zong: "I recall Xiangjiang prohibits minors from drinking. Can these two have alcohol?"

"Really?"

Xiao Huang Zong genuinely didn't know much—some written rules differed from reality.

Back when he was in middle school, he'd gone to Lan Kwai Fong and no one stopped him from drinking.

But Kim understood Yan Li's subtext—it was a question about their ages.

Still, she wasn't sure whether Yan Li preferred younger or older ones.

Some liked young girls, others liked older ones—the tastes weren't the same.

Thinking of this, Kim decided to take a gamble and pushed Angelababy slightly forward.

"Baby was born in '89, she's seventeen this year."

Then she pulled over Wen Yongshan and introduced her: "She was born in '88, already eighteen."

Yan Li glanced at the two again, uncertain whether the short-haired woman was telling the truth.

But since she said eighteen, he, being an honest and straightforward man, decided to believe her this once.

Yan Li tapped the seat beside Wen Yongshan: "Join me for a drink."

Wen Yongshan glanced at Kim, then sat beside Yan Li under Kim's encouraging gaze.

The remaining Baby looked at Kim with pleading eyes; Kim gave a subtle nod toward Xiao Huang Zong.

Baby was reluctant—though Xiao Huang Zong wasn't ugly, he paled next to Yan Li's upright, muscular, and commanding presence. But since he didn't choose her, she had no choice but to sit beside Xiao Huang Zong.

Xiao Huang Zong sighed in relief now that Yan Li had picked someone, then glanced at Wen Yongshan.

So Yan Sheng likes this type!

The rest was none of the big-haired woman's or Kim's business, but before leaving, Kim slipped him a business card.

Yan Li glanced at the card with interest—he'd thought Kim was a madam, but it turned out she was a modeling agent.

Hmm, sometimes these two professions aren't entirely different…

"You're so young—how did you get into modeling?"

Yan Li casually set the card aside and chatted with Wen Yongshan; she, nervous before him, spoke softly:

"I was scouted during school, did ads—they paid fast—and since I liked the industry, I kept at it…"

After chatting a while, Yan Li learned Wen Yongshan's modeling was slightly different from what he knew.

It was teen modeling, commonly called "nengmo"—rarely walked runways, mostly focused on print ads and commercial events.

The target market was teenagers, though some shut-in men also favored them.

Wen Yongshan chatted with Yan Li for a while, gradually relaxing—being young, she slowly revealed more than she intended.

Earlier, Yan Li had wondered; now, from Wen Yongshan's tone, he realized her income was decent—she wasn't here to serve drinks, she was here for the man.

Modeling is a youth-driven trade, especially nengmo—to rise, you either hook a wealthy patron or push into bigger circles—the entertainment industry.

Entertainment industry resources often attracted more than even second-generation rich kids.

Because second-generation rich kids weren't easy to land; even if you lucked into one, you only made pocket money.

But entertainment resources made them more famous; only when famous could they long-term attach to rich kids or elite elites, even possibly marry into wealthy families.

This was also a decades-old tradition in Xiangjiang—countless wives and wealthy matrons of prominent families were former Miss Hong Kong winners.

In Xiangjiang, among any girl with even a hint of beauty, at least six or seven out of ten dreamed of becoming a star and marrying into wealth.

But since everyone chased this dream, and Xiangjiang's market was so limited, the competition wasn't just fierce—it was brutal.

And it wasn't just local competition—huge numbers of mainland, Taiwan, Japanese, Korean, and Southeast Asian teenagers and young adults came here, drawn by the fading but still vibrant Eastern Hollywood.

No wonder it's chaotic!

To rise here, you must be willing to go all out—if everyone goes all out, then it's who's willing to go further.

Grab every opportunity, spare no cost, climb step by step—how could it not be chaotic?

Yan Li felt a pang of sympathy—everyone says Beijingers suffer, but at least for now, especially in entertainment, Xiangjiang drifters probably suffered far more.

Wen Yongshan described the current state of the nengmo industry, talking until her throat was dry; she lifted her glass to drink, then realized—

Wasn't this supposed to be about serving drinks? Why was she giving an industry report?

Besides, Wen Yongshan noticed Yan Li's hands remained perfectly proper—he didn't urge her to drink, didn't flirt, just chatted plainly.

Are mainland bosses really this civilized?!

Because Yan Li was so gentlemanly, Xiao Huang Zong didn't dare act up either, and came over to ask:

"Yan Sheng, are you dissatisfied? I'll get someone else."

"No, no."

Yan Li waved his hand: "Quietly drinking, chatting—it feels good."

"Yan Sheng understands life."

Seeing this, Xiao Huang Zong decided to join Yan Li himself, drinking and chatting, while Baby and Wen Yongshan sat by quietly.

Naturally, the conversation turned to the film Yan Li planned to invest in.

"Yan Sheng, for 'Firestorm,' we plan to keep the style of 'Breaking News'—this action genre is popular not just in theaters but also in the DVD market."

Xiao Huang Zong seized the chance to promote his own film; Yan Li smiled.

"Xiao Huang Zong, I've said it more than once—'Firestorm' is a decent project, but we lean more toward 'Drug War.'"

Besides the higher profit potential of 'Drug War,' it was also more open to actor collaborations.

Meanwhile, 'Firestorm' was more focused on financial investment alone.

In Yan Li's view, that showed no sincerity—he'd rather put his money in the stock market or invest directly in a low-budget film himself than waste it on a project like 'Firestorm,' with limited returns.

"What about 'Woman's Color'? We can have Miss Fan play the female lead."

Xiao Huang Zong brought up another movie again.

It was a purely female-themed film, with low investment and the lead role offered to Fan Xiaopang—he didn't understand why Yan Li wouldn't invest.

This time, Yan Li spoke plainly: "I don't believe in this movie. It's commercially weak and won't stand a chance for awards."

"Men of the Gate" and "Firestorm" had decent overall quality, were profitable, and could boost the actors' profiles.

But that "Woman's Nature"—aside from its so-called female theme—he saw nothing that caught his eye. Investing in such a film is just throwing money into water.

Yan Li could actually accept losing money on movies.

Because the film industry is a high-value-added sector: beyond direct financial returns, it can promote people, win awards, build reputation, expand influence, and aid the company in many other ways.

But a movie that's nothing at all, offering zero returns, is pure waste of time.

Yan Li always ran his business pragmatically. He partnered with the Huang family to make money—ideally, everyone profits; if a project doesn't make money, he avoids it.

Xiao Huang Zong was disappointed, but didn't take it personally or harbor resentment.

Their relationship was built on long-term cooperation, mutual exchange; failure in short-term deals didn't mean no future opportunities.

To make a "true friend," you've got to invest!

Yan Li didn't flatly refuse collaboration—he instead pitched Yi'an's film distribution business to Xiao Huang Zong.

He'd previously discussed this with Huang Baiming, wanting to help "Dragon Tiger Gate."

But this film was Main Producer by Bo'na, with Oriental Film handling production—distribution had no say, so Huang made excuses to decline.

Yan Li now raised it again: one reason was to silence him, another was that he genuinely wanted to distribute a few "joint venture" Hong Kong films.

As the Crown Prince of Oriental Film, Xiao Huang Zong still had some clout in the circle; Yan Li asked him to promote it, and if he could bring in good projects, Yan Li wouldn't hesitate to share profits.

At these words, Xiao Huang Zong's eyes brightened slightly. He raised a toast to Yan Li, promising to ease Yan Sheng's burdens.

The rich second generation—though they have "rich" in their title—doesn't mean they're wealthy!

Of course, it depends who you compare to. Compared to ordinary people, they're rich—monthly allowance exceeds many people's annual salary.

But many rich second-generation kids only have allowance. Homes buy them houses, cars, watches—what's in their hands only covers basic eating, drinking, and entertainment; going beyond that is hard.

If their families are strict, even eating, drinking, and entertainment become difficult.

Even those lavishly spoiled by their families rarely get much money—not because parents are stingy, but because they fear too much money will ruin their children.

So the key for rich second-generation kids isn't "rich"—it's "second-generation."

Family wealth and control rest in parents' hands; their own accessible money and assets are limited, at least vastly less than Yan Li's as a self-made entrepreneur.

Even if Xiao Huang Zong's father, Huang Baiming, came himself—not to mention net worth—his ability to earn and generate cash flow couldn't match Yan Li's.

Wen Yongshan and Baby had been listening to their conversation, though some of it was hazy and hard to grasp.

But they understood two things.

First, these two men had entertainment resources—and they were top-tier, nothing like those boastful directors and producers who flirted with girls.

The movies they dreamed of were dismissed by these two.

Second, among the two, this mainland-born Yan Sheng was even more powerful—Xiao Huang even seemed to be flattering him.

This realization made Baby restless. She smiled even sweeter and more demurely at Yan Li, seizing the chance to light his cigarette first.

Seeing Baby so eager, Wen Yongshan felt a pang of urgency. She moved closer to Yan Li, then boldly wrapped her arm around his, offering her bare leg as a makeshift armrest.

If you don't move, I'll move!

Yan Li glanced at her, ignored her, but didn't pull his arm away—still chatting with Xiao Huang Zong.

They talked until midnight. Yan Li checked his intelligence system, released Wen Yongshan, and said to Xiao Huang Zong:

"Time's up. Let's rest."

"No problem."

Xiao Huang Zong signed the bill. Baby and Wen Yongshan followed—but when it came time to get in the car, Yan Li stopped them.

"Little sister, focus on your studies and work. Don't come to places like this."

He took a stack of Hong Kong dollars from his bag, split it into two portions: the thicker one for Wen Yongshan, the thinner one for Baby.

"For your milk tea. Goodbye."

Saying that, Yan Li pulled Xiao Huang Zong into the car. Seeing the latter's confusion, he added:

"Minors are landmines. Don't touch them."

Yan Li didn't lack women. He had no need to seek such stimulation—and people picked up on the spot? Who knows their character.

If someone got leverage over him, even without lawsuits, a scandal would be pointless.

Xiao Huang Zong glanced at Wen Yongshan: "Wasn't she eighteen?"

Yan Li also looked at Wen Yongshan: "Tell me honestly—what month is your birthday?"

Wen Yongshan hesitated, saw Yan Li's calm gaze, and finally admitted: "December."

The worst thing is tampering with these details—dangerous!

Yan Li said no more, waved his hand, and moved to close the car door. Beside him, Baby bit her lip, then suddenly threw a piece of paper into the car.

"Yan Sheng, wait for me until I'm of age."

The door shut. Yan Li glanced at the paper—it had a phone number and online account, plus the nightclub's logo. Clearly written during a restroom break, meant to slip to him.

Xiao Huang Zong's face darkened: "Yan Zong's charm is still greater."

Yan Li smiled, gently tore the note, and looked at Xiao Huang Zong, half-soothing, half-explaining:

"I believe in fate. If we're meant to meet again, we will."

He said it aloud, but didn't believe it for a second. Wait for you to turn eighteen? Do we even know each other? Are we acting out a romance drama?

Every year, Yan Li didn't have to attend a hundred or so banquets.

Most banquets had girls. He'd seen hundreds—maybe over a thousand—none ugly, many beautiful, plenty sweet and obedient, a significant number having admired him and offered themselves willingly.

And that's just the entertainment scene. Countless actors, artists, models, and ordinary beauties inside and outside the industry wanted to attach themselves to him.

Yan Li is so easygoing that sleeping with a thousand women isn't hard.

Under these circumstances, ordinary women, lacking some special aura or exceptional qualities, simply don't catch his eye.

Today's two young models, by Yan Li's standards, are barely acceptable—baby faces, slender, delicate figures, sweet and cute, at least they're young—but if there's risk, forget it; they'll be fleeting memories afterward.

But Yan Li doesn't care, which doesn't mean Baby and Wen Yongshan don't.

Both are under the same company, which intends to promote them as the Modeling World's 【twins】; they're still in the adjustment phase, and their relationship is only decent at best.

Baby's behavior just now, in Wen Yongshan's view, was stealing someone else's man; as soon as Yan Li's car left, she voiced her displeasure.

"You spent the whole night with Brother Yan—did he touch you? If you can't handle it, why not let me try?"

Baby was utterly confident; she had been watching Yan Li and Wen Yongshan earlier, noticed Yan Li was cold toward her, and concluded he didn't like Wen—his choice not to pick her was simply because she was too young.

Wen Yongshan had been furious, having previously thought Yan Li had no interest in her.

But when he asked about her birthday, she realized he'd noticed she hadn't turned eighteen yet, which was why he hadn't touched her.

To prove it, Wen Yongshan pulled out the cash Yan Li had given her—several times more than Baby's—as evidence of who Yan Li truly favored.

"Then why did Brother Yan give me money? That proves he still likes me. Just wait—he'll call me."

Baby was supremely confident; ever since she followed Kim-jie's advice and went to Japan for "dental work," plus growing older and maturing, she'd become increasingly beautiful, with a hint of mixed-race features.

If she hooked up with Brother Yan, in one or two years, when she was even prettier, she might land him and become a wealthy lady on the mainland.

Wen Yongshan didn't argue with Baby; she turned and left, determined to dig up information on this Brother Yan and learn everything about him.

…

The next day, Yan Li met with Huang Baoming in the morning to discuss collaborations with several film distributors with channels in Japan, Korea, and Southeast Asia, and in the afternoon met with director Er Dongsheng of 【Men Tu】.

【Men Tu】 had many investors: China Film Group, BoNa, some Xiangjiang capital, and Yan Li's Yi'an.

The film's budget wasn't low—30 to 40 million RMB—with one major expense being Li Tianwang's salary.

At this stage, aside from Cheng Long and Li Lianjie, who broke into Hollywood, Li is the highest-paid actor; each film typically commands a million-level fee, sometimes with box-office profit-sharing.

He's expensive, yes, but the movie relies on him to sell tickets, so you can't refuse him—the price can't be squeezed; he's in high demand, with countless crews fighting for him.

Even this time, if 【Men Tu】 hadn't been such a strong script, they might not have gotten Li Tianwang to play a "male supporting role."

Yan Li supports Li Tianwang!

Unless they bring in Cheng Long and the others, replacing him would make Yan Li and the other investors walk out.

But if Li Tianwang can't be replaced, that doesn't mean other actors can't be.

Yan Li and Er Dongsheng's negotiation goal was clear: how many people the film promotes, how much money Yan Li pays.

Among them, Yan Li cared most about the female lead of 【Men Tu】; if Er Dongsheng cast Fan Xiaopang, 10 to 15 million RMB was negotiable.

Er Dongsheng was deeply troubled: "Brother Yan, the female lead, Afen, has many passionate scenes."

Yan Li sipped his coffee: "Then change them."

Most passionate scenes are just borderline titillation; cutting them has no impact on the plot. If absolutely necessary, just imply them subtly—the meaning is enough.

"This film can't be changed—these passionate scenes serve a breakthrough purpose, meant to portray the addict's decadence, promiscuity, and lack of boundaries…"

Er Dongsheng rambled on, essentially saying the film couldn't be altered—change it and the essence is ruined.

"Also, there's one shot planned: a rat crawling over a corpse—intending to film it live."

"…."

Yan Li was speechless. Could this shot even pass censorship? And which actress would be that bold?

"Our planned choice is Zhang Jingchu."

Er Dongsheng named his target; Yan Li recalled the name: "The one from 【Peacock】?"

"Yes, that's her."

Er Dongsheng held Zhang Jingchu in high regard, lavishing praise on her acting, appearance, and professionalism.

This made Yan Li's gaze toward him grow increasingly strange.

He'd heard of Zhang Jingchu—besides 【Peacock】, he'd heard she forced Jiang Wenli to bring her child to the set and take charge, and there were rumors linking her to a director named Jia Rui.

Yan Li admitted he was a cynical person, prone to judging others by himself.

But Er Dongsheng's wholehearted support, combined with Zhang Jingchu's track record, inevitably made him suspect something.

You won't let me promote my girlfriend—could it be you're trying to promote your own person?!

But frankly, the passionate scenes and the rat business had dissuaded Yan Li.

Fan Xiaopang could be that bold—he couldn't, and he didn't want to.

"If the female lead is out, what about the male lead—the undercover cop?"

Yan Li made a concession; his top choice was still Fan Xiaopang, but others weren't unacceptable.

If he couldn't get this role, there was no point in further cooperation on this project.

Yan Li wasn't putting out several million just to beg for scraps—he didn't care for supporting roles.

Er Dongsheng was still reluctant, strongly recommending Wu Yanzu; Yan Li remained unmoved.

Even if Wu Yanzu was great, what did that have to do with him?

"Director Er, I know some in Xiangjiang are insular, but Zhang Zhilin is a true Xiangjiang native, right? In popularity, he's currently red-hot on the mainland; in acting, he's starred in films for years and delivers; his looks aren't bad either."

"He meets every one of your criteria. If you won't use him, we have nothing left to discuss."

Yan Li laid down an ultimatum, even hinting he'd pull his investment and go back to sway BoNa and China Film Group.

Zhang Zhilin's current popularity on the mainland was his best leverage—BoNa and China Film Group couldn't ignore this.

Though Wu Yanzu had decent popularity and was backed by the Hong Kong circle, among Hong Kong's young male actors, he ranked below Xie and Chen, and even Gu Tianle and Yu Wenle were subtly ahead of him.

Under these circumstances, the choice was entirely up to Er Dongsheng.

Er Dongsheng was torn—he strongly favored Wu, they were close personally, and the role had already been nearly settled; if he switched actors… he'd have a hard time explaining.

"Brother Yan, could you let me think about it?"

"No problem. I'll stay in Xiangjiang these two days—8 million investment, 20% stake, Zhang Zhilin as lead actor. If Director Er agrees, we can sign the contract right away."

Zhang Zhilin and Fan Xiaopang still differed greatly in Yan Li's eyes; the investment amount would naturally change.

Er Dongsheng nodded. Yan Li had rich negotiation experience and knew that, given this state, barring any mishap, it was essentially settled.

After leaving Er Dongsheng's studio, Yan Li called Jia Qian, the head of the Artist Agency Department.

"The lead role in 'Men Tu' shouldn't be a problem. Use this film to negotiate Zhang Zhilin's contract renewal—minimum five years."

"Understood."

Zhang Zhilin had already intended to continue collaborating with Yi'an after his contract ended, but now that he was famous and under more scrutiny, Yi'an planned to secure the renewal early for peace of mind—'Men Tu' would serve as both leverage and a gift for the renewal.

As for Fan Xiaopang...

Yan Li was troubled; suitable films were too few. There were a few supporting female roles, but Yan Li looked down on them.

He considered that if things got really desperate, once the cinema distribution system stabilized, he'd personally assemble and invest in a mid- to high-budget film.

After arranging the World Cup bet, Yan Li declined Xiao Huang's invitation and placed his wager through the system's vetted secure channels.

He didn't make it as complicated as last time—he only bet on two.

One was Brazil, the favorite favored by everyone, to create confusion.

The other was Italy, embroiled in the phone scandal—high odds, yet still strong—a gamble on an underdog's inevitable victory.

Yan Li roughly calculated: if Italy won the championship, after deducting all fees and keeping the money in Xiangjiang, he'd net around forty to fifty million Hong Kong dollars.

"Could make a nice little fortune."

Yan Li was pleased, but nowhere near as excited or wild as he'd been back in Europe.

There was no helping it—his threshold and mindset had risen. Even if he now made four or five hundred million in one go, he might happily splurge, but he could never recapture that feeling of sudden wealth from poverty.

After arranging the World Cup, Er Dongsheng replied, and Yan Li went to sign the contract.

'Men Tu' became Yi'an's second film investment!

Afterward, Yan Li made appointments with several potential film partners, then returned to the mainland with his team.

Before returning to Jingcheng, Yan Li visited the headquarters of Tudou. com in Shanghai.

It was nearly June; the windfall from the Fengdiao showdown had been mostly consumed, leaving only a steady, slow stream of income.

Thus, Tudou. com began its new round of funding.

As the fastest-growing and best-performing video website, Tudou. com attracted much capital interest. Wang Wei was constantly receiving guests and seemed thinner than when Yan Li last saw him.

"How's it going? Can you raise fifteen million U. S. dollars for 15 to 20% equity?"

Yan Li asked casually—he didn't need to ask; the system had already informed him, and his inside contact had already reported to him.

But he didn't want Wang Wei to feel he was overly focused on Tudou. com, so he pretended to inquire anyway.

"Should be fine—it's going smoothly. Did you know? Google in the U. S. is preparing to acquire YouTube. Experts estimate the deal could exceed one billion U. S. dollars."

"One billion U. S. dollars?"

Wang Wei's eyes lit up—if Tudou. com could be worth that much, he'd instantly become a super-rich man.

"We're building China's YouTube. If America's is worth a billion, even if we only hit half that, we're still worth billions."

Wang Wei clearly intended to exploit this deal heavily, inflating Tudou. com's fame and concept further.

Yan Li approved of his approach but offered a warning: "The more money there is, the more people will rush in to grab a share. Future video websites will sprout like mushrooms after rain."

Especially Youku—though still not launched, it was already actively preparing, coming on strong and not to be underestimated.

Besides, Sohu Video had long been established and was now imitating Tudou by launching its own original video-sharing platform, Sohu Blog.

As one of the three major portals, Sohu's resources and influence could easily propel Sohu Video to rapid growth, making it a major rival to Tudou. com.

Tudou. com currently holds a first-mover advantage, but temporary advantage doesn't guarantee permanent dominance.

Yan Li felt Wang Wei had become a bit arrogant due to Tudou's smooth rise.

As a major shareholder and Tudou. com's greatest supporter, Yan Li's words couldn't be ignored by Wang Wei—he nodded.

"I'll be careful."

After chatting at Tudou. com, Yan Li had his driver stop the car as they passed a residential complex.

He thought for a moment, took out his phone, and dialed a number—no one answered.

"Hmm..."

Yan Li sighed, sent a text message. After a while, his phone rang—it was Yang Rong's voice.

"How do you know where I live?"

"You tell me."

Silence on the other end, then a flurry of sounds—Yang Rong shouting, "You betrayed me!"—and what sounded like Wang Ou protesting his innocence.

"You're in Jingcheng?"

Yan Li was surprised. The voice on the line changed again—now it was Wang Ou, slightly amused.

"Caught off guard, huh? Said you two were innocent, yet you're already sneaking off to meet in Shanghai."

"..."

Yan Li hung up. He'd impulsively decided to tease the reserved Yang Rong since he was in Shanghai—but she wasn't there.

Good thing he hadn't gotten out and knocked on her door—would've been a wasted trip.

Not quite a wasted trip, though.

Back at the hotel, Yan Li picked out a bracelet from the pile he'd brought from Xiangjiang and had his driver deliver it to Yang Rong's residence—so she'd find it the moment she returned to Shanghai.

Yan Li spent two days in Shanghai, besides Tudou. com, also meeting with partners and TV stations to maintain relationships.

Afterward, Yan Li returned to Jingcheng. His first stop was Yangjiao Deng Hutong.

A few days ago, while Yan Li was away, Zhang Hong and Old Yan, without telling him, had sent his cousin Yan Xin to secretly return them to their hometown, planning a fait accompli.

He was betrayed by Yan Xin.

Grandma Yan was old and found train travel inconvenient; Yan and Zhang Hong didn't understand flying, and Yan Xin refused to escort her or allow a private car, so they could only wait for Yan Li to return and handle it.

"I already said not to let them come in pairs—why are you still going back to the hometown?"

Yan Li knew his parents and grandmother were struggling under the pressure from their daughter-in-law and granddaughter-in-law, and he had made concessions, but he hadn't expected the elders to still be persistent.

"Even one at a time is unbearable."

Old Yan complained that while Yan Li was away, Dong Xuan, Qin Lan, and Fan Xiaopang took turns coming over to flatter them.

No one knew how they'd arranged it, but they never met—yet one came each day, and the pressure was heavy, always fearing they'd mistake someone or say the wrong thing.

Added to that, Old Yan felt uneasy facing his daughter-in-law, while Zhang Hong and Grandma Yan, each favoring a different one, frequently clashed.

In the end, they all agreed: return to the hometown, each living their own peaceful life.

Even if Yan Li came, they'd hold the same stance.

Yan Li still didn't want his family to leave; with his parents, the feeling of several women coming over was completely different.

Though he didn't return often, every time Yan Li came to Yangjiao Lantern Alley, he felt deeply grounded and comfortable—listening to his family's nagging, eating food with a familiar taste, realizing this was truly home.

"Here's an idea: if you're leaving, don't all go—leave one or two to stay with me in Jingcheng. Don't you feel sorry for me, all alone?"

"Who's alone? You've got more girlfriends than we have family!"

Old Yan continued his precise complaint, then said: "I don't trust your grandma to stay; if anyone stays, let your mom stay—I can see she's enjoying being fawned over."

Among them, Old Yan most wanted to return to the hometown; Grandma Yan and Zhang Hong mainly couldn't get along—if one left, the other would gladly stay to keep their son and grandson company.

Especially Zhang Hong—she was popular among the alley neighbors and thoroughly enjoyed being fawned over as a daughter-in-law; her desire to return to the hometown wasn't strong.

"Mom, what do you think?"

Yan Li looked at Zhang Hong; she hesitated, but finally shook her head.

"I can't leave your dad."

"Don't worry about me—I'm in good health, and I won't starve."

Old Yan insisted he wasn't as fragile as his son and didn't need care; Zhang Hong gave him a glare.

"Is that what I'm worried about? I'm worried that if I'm gone, you'll chatter nonsense with that bunch of old women."

Though Old Yan was fat, his facial features weren't bad; when cleaned up, he looked quite presentable.

And he had skills, and his son was accomplished—no telling whether some middle-aged women or even young girls might want to become Yan Li's stepmother.

Old Yan felt wronged: "Am I that kind of man?"

"Like father, like son!"

Yan Li froze—how had this come back to him? Old Yan shot his son a furious glare.

He'd once praised that little scoundrel, yet ignored how that one act had ruined the Yan family's reputation.

Now, Yan Li lived freely, surrounded by women, while his father and two uncles, and even the next generation, were now under strict watch by their wives, on high alert.

Yan Li enjoys the beauty, but they suffer the consequences—if he didn't have just this one son, Old Yan would really swing a pot and kill that little scoundrel…

(End of Chapter)