Chapter 72

"Director X, thank you so much for your support this time."

Yan Li helped a middle-aged man with glasses into the car, waved his hand behind him, and Lin Jiachuan handed him a cardboard box the size of a shoebox; Yan Li placed it in the car.

"It's almost the New Year—I've prepared some local specialties for you, just a small token of appreciation; you must accept them."

After some back-and-forth, the man got in his car and left; Lin Jiachuan could no longer suppress his joy.

"Forty thousand per episode—Shenzhen really has money."

Yan Li smiled broadly too; the system's information about the Shenzhen TV station was vague, with little apparent room for maneuver—he'd come here only to test his luck, his main goal being to study how to invest in Hong Kong stocks.

But once he arrived and gathered detailed information, he easily found a "kind-hearted person" and secured the best contract available.

"Jin Ling twenty thousand, Xi'an twenty thousand, Shenzhen forty thousand—bro, that's nearly two million five hundred thousand already."

Lin Jiachuan counted on his fingers, his face glowing with excitement yet tinged with regret: "If we'd landed that Hunan channel, it would've exceeded three million."

Yan Li shot him a glare: "That guy's too greedy and flashy—he'll crash someday, better to keep your distance."

Distributing TV dramas and dealing with TV stations involves one side buying, the other selling; anyone who claims there's no gray area is a fool.

This industry's unwritten rule is practiced by everyone—if you refuse to follow it, quit now. Yan Li wanted to make money, so he had no choice but to go with the flow.

But everything has its limit; understand the rules, follow them, and you can cooperate; those who don't know their place or consequences, who lack basic awareness—Yan Li would never touch them.

"Enough thinking—go back, take a shower, then book your tickets home."

Yan Li called out, and the two returned to the hotel; the next day they flew to Jingcheng, arriving on the twenty-sixth day of the twelfth lunar month.

After wrapping up coordination with Shenzhen, Yan Li announced the company's holiday—back to work next year.

For the three employees, Yan Li gave each a thousand-yuan red envelope on top of their salary; for Lin Jiachuan, he simply handed over a thick stack of cash.

"Bro, that's too much."

Lin Jiachuan was stunned; Yan Li already paid him well, and he'd been eating and drinking for free all along—now this huge bonus?

"Just take it. You've been running around with me all this time, suffered plenty—don't waste this money. Buy your mom and dad some clothes and food for the New Year, so your family won't worry."

Though Yan Li gave the money partly out of care for his brother, Lin Jiachuan had truly performed well these past days.

Diligent, hardworking, never complained—he'd lost weight from traveling with Yan Li, had thrown up from drinking multiple times—this was the end of the year; if he didn't give a big red envelope, Yan Li would be unworthy of being his brother.

"Got it."

Lin Jiachuan clutched the money, nodding vigorously, looking at Yan Li with emotion: "Bro, you're so good to me."

"Get lost, don't get all mushy."

Yan Li couldn't stand guys being sentimental—he kicked Lin Jiachuan away and started packing his bags.

Lin Jiachuan hadn't gotten an airplane ticket; his train ticket was arranged by Zhang Songwen's group earlier—it departs tomorrow at 9 p. m.

Yan Li didn't take the plane or train—he chose to drive home for the New Year.

Earlier, when running errands without a car was inconvenient, Yan Li bought a secondhand black Santana 2000 for errands; because the car was in poor condition, he got it for about sixty thousand.

He used it daily for transportation, and rented a better car when he needed to impress.

Though merely a transitional vehicle in his startup phase, it was still his first car, and Yan Li treasured it deeply.

As soon as he got it, he thoroughly cleaned and refurbished it inside and out, maintained it carefully, and whenever Zhou Yi and others borrowed it, they didn't need to pay for gas—but they had to wash and wipe it clean.

To an unobservant outsider, it looked almost nine or ten out of ten like a brand-new car.

He loaded his luggage into the trunk, said goodbye to Lin Jiachuan, drove to fill up with fuel, and set off on the road home.

————

From his residence in Jingcheng to his hometown in Zao City, Lu Province, was over six hundred and fifty kilometers.

Yan Li set out in the morning and drove until nearly evening before arriving; exhausted, his back and waist ached, and he regretted it so much he wanted to slap himself.

Why buy a crappy little car and show off? Just take the damn plane!

But no matter what, the joy of returning home for the New Year outweighed everything—he pressed the brake, and the Santana slowly pulled to a stop in front of his family's restaurant—

Yan Laoer Restaurant!

Yes, that was the plain, unadorned name of Yan Li's family restaurant.

Yan Li's grandfather had three sons: the eldest Yan Hai, the second Yan Jiang, the third Yan He; Yan Li's father, Yan Jiang, was the second son, hence the name.

This also reflected local dining customs—in Zao City's Yicheng County, many restaurants were named after 【surname + birth order】.

Near Yan Li's home were Shi Laowu Restaurant and Zhu Daxia Lamb Soup; when he was in middle school, he often passed Wang Er Lamb Soup.

Though this naming style sounded a bit crude and unappealing, its advantage was approachability and memorability—enough for small restaurants.

He got out and opened the door, noticing the business was good—only one table in the main hall was empty.

After all, it was right before the New Year—many people returning home or meeting friends and classmates for drinks, a minor peak season.

As Yan Li looked around, he saw his mother, Zhang Hong, carrying a dish out of the kitchen; she glanced at him briefly and called out casually.

"There's a menu by the door."

Then she placed the dish on one table and hurried back to the kitchen.

Yan Li: "..."

He'd just changed his hairstyle and worn higher-quality, more suitable clothes—was he really so handsome his own mother couldn't recognize him?

Just as he doubted this, Zhang Hong, who had just entered the kitchen, turned back, looked at him twice, then finally broke into a smile.

"Son, why didn't you call before coming home?"

Yan Li breathed a sigh of relief—if his mother hadn't recognized him twice, it would've been too embarrassing.

"Yan, your son's back."

Zhang Hong ignored the customers, excitedly pulling Yan Li toward the kitchen; Yan Senior was focused on stir-frying over high heat, the kitchen noise drowning out her call—he only noticed when Yan Li stood right in front of him.

Having been a chef for over thirty years, Yan Senior had developed some occupational habits.

Broad face, thick neck, a round, protruding belly—but his features still faintly revealed traces of his youthful handsomeness; Yan Li's good looks were mostly inherited from him.

Seeing his son, Yan Jiang wiped his sweat with a towel, grinned, and asked:

"Have you eaten?"

As a cook, Old Yan's fatherly concern was always this simple and direct.

Yan Li was used to it by now, and ordered straight away: "Dad, I want spicy chicken."

"Alright, I'll make it for you."

Comrade Old Yan nodded, stir-fried the dish he'd just been making, then picked out a large, already-gutted local rooster, and with a cleaver went chop-chop chopping the meat.

Zhang Hong, meanwhile, took her son's arm to chat, but before a few sentences were out, she was called away by customers outside.

Watching his busy parents, Yan Li sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and washed his hands.

Fine, let's get to it together!

It's always like this—everyone else goes home to rest, he goes home to work overtime...

(End of chapter)