Chapter 75: Buy a House—Even If I Have to Borrow Money, I

Yan Li could maintain a silent understanding between father and son.

In the afternoon, Yan Li helped his grandmother; Zhang Hong, unaware of the situation, scolded Old Yan mercilessly after returning home and tasting the braised pork Yan Li had made.

Though Old Yan usually acted the part of the family patriarch, whenever Zhang Hong flew into a rage, he could only take the scolding.

Worse still, Zhang Hong’s accusations were well-founded.

Their household ran a restaurant; one taste of this braised pork revealed just how profitable the recipe was.

The child had kindly sent back the recipe and reminded them repeatedly, yet they ignored it, letting it gather dust in a corner for months.

That was all money!

Thinking of it, Zhang Hong felt deep regret; Old Yan felt it too, otherwise he wouldn’t have sat there quietly taking the blame.

Yan Li admired Old Yan’s miserable state—he knew he didn’t need to speak up; someone would always defend him.

Zhang Hong’s scolding now was one thing; if his grandmother found out, the old lady would likely come over to scold him too, and the other uncles, aunts, and elders would probably chide him as well.

If that was the case, Yan Li might as well play the role of a good son.

At least Old Yan now felt deeply guilty; after a few soothing words, Yan Li could make him cook for him every day during the holiday, exploiting his usual holiday laziness.

He was truly filial and thoughtful!

Seeing the scolding had gone on long enough, Yan Li made an excuse about avoiding arguments during the holiday and rescued Old Yan; the family then ate New Year’s Eve dinner and watched the Spring Festival Gala.

The program lineup was abundant, but the most memorable was Zhao Benzhan, Gao Xiumin, and Fan Wei’s skit “Heart Trouble.”

The Iron Triangle received another standing ovation after “Selling the Crutch” and “Selling the Car”; Yan Li’s family laughed heartily.

At midnight, Yan Li and Old Yan went out to set off firecrackers; other households in the village also kept firing them, and in a nearby village, someone seemed to be setting off fireworks.

Yan Li took a moment to check his system, expecting some special “Spring Festival Intelligence” bonus for this unique occasion.

But the system didn’t support traditional holidays—it still offered only the ordinary monthly intelligence.

Indeed, this year’s New Year’s Day fell exactly on February 1st, so today Yan Li triggered the monthly intelligence.

After returning indoors from setting off firecrackers, Yan Li huddled in the corner of the sofa, pretending to play with his phone while studying today’s intelligence.

Zhang Hong glanced at Yan Li, who was Ditou fiddling with his phone, nudged her husband Yan Jiang, gave him a look, and whispered:

“This kid drank a lot—quickly ask about that woman who called him.”

Yan Jiang, whose alcohol tolerance was worse than his son’s and whose face was flushed, remembered how Yan Li had defended him earlier, shook his fat head, and spoke up for his son.

“If he doesn’t want to say, don’t press him. Why are you so concerned?”

Zhang Hong replied: “I’m not planning to do anything—can’t I just ask? He’s young; what if he gets scammed?”

“This kid’s clever as a monkey—you’d get scammed before he would. If you want to ask, go ahead yourself.”

“If I could get it out of him, I wouldn’t need you. Hurry up.”

Seeing Old Yan stay silent, Zhang Hong glared at him repeatedly, urged him incessantly, nearly grabbing him by the arm—finally, she brought up the braised pork; Old Yan, guilty and defenseless, had no choice but to comply.

As the firecracker noise began to fade, Old Yan prepared his words and was about to speak when Yan Li suddenly spoke up.

“Dad, Mom, how much money do we have left?”

Old Yan: “Huh?”

Zhang Hong was also taken aback: “Why are you asking that?”

“Just curious.”

Zhang Hong eyed Yan Li suspiciously but didn’t hide the truth: “We have over 200,000 in savings, and a few ten thousand lent out to friends and relatives.”

“So little?”

Yan Li was surprised—he thought the family had at least 300,000 to 400,000.

Hearing this, Old Yan objected: “Little? Ask around the whole village—how many families have over 100,000 saved? Some struggle to scrape together a few thousand!”

This was his life’s savings, something he’d always been proud of; his son’s words struck a nerve.

Zhang Hong also calculated for her son: their household ran a small restaurant with limited profits, earning only a few ten thousand a year.

And this amount was only recent; back in the 1990s, money wasn’t so inflated, and they earned even less.

Over the years, the family built a new house, Yan Li’s tuition and living expenses in Beijing were high, and money was spent on his grandfather’s illness before he passed.

Between all these scattered expenses, having this much saved already showed Zhang Hong and her husband managed the household well.

After this reckoning, Yan Li realized he’d indeed been overly optimistic about his family’s financial situation.

It was a bad habit he’d developed after starting to trade stocks—he’d grown increasingly careless about small sums.

After closing a few contracts worth tens of thousands recently, this habit had worsened—he barely noticed sums of a few thousand or ten thousand.

But in today’s society, most people earned only a few hundred a month, and many struggled to earn over ten thousand a year.

Old Yan and Zhang Hong came from rural backgrounds, had little education, and weren’t particularly sharp.

Yet they’d managed their home and business brilliantly—by ordinary standards, they were clearly capable.

The more Yan Li thought about it, the more he admired his parents; he showered them with praise. Old Yan, drunk, laughed heartily, but Zhang Hong sensed something was off and grabbed her son.

“Tell me honestly—what’s going on? Why suddenly ask about our money? Is there a problem with your business?”

“No.”

Seeing Zhang Hong didn’t believe him, Yan Li explained: “A friend just introduced me to a house—great quality, unusually cheap. I don’t have enough cash on hand, so I wanted to ask if we have any money.”

“Friend” meant the system; today’s monthly intelligence listed several high-quality, low-priced houses for sale in Beijing.

Yan Li coveted them—this was information from the monthly intelligence, its value obvious; if he missed this chance, the next might not come for a long time.

But his own funds were tight—selling some stocks and internet cafe licenses now would mean a loss, so he turned his thoughts to the family’s savings.

These few thousand in the bank earning interest were a waste—better to buy a house and wait for appreciation.

“Buy a house?”

Zhang Hong murmured, then fell silent.

How to put it? They had only one child, and the family’s money would eventually go to him, so Zhang Hong wouldn’t hide the savings from him.

But this money was the result of decades of hard work—saved painstakingly over half a lifetime; caution was never excessive when spending it.

Unless…

Old Yan blurted: “Why suddenly think of buying a house? Do you have a girlfriend?”

Yan Li froze, then glanced at Zhang Hong, who instantly perked up, and nodded sheepishly.

“Mm.”

“I knew it.”

Zhang Hong exclaimed excitedly: “Did she ask you to buy it? Are you getting married?”

“...”

Yan Li dodged the girlfriend topic, steering the focus back to the house.

“Dad, Mom, you don’t understand—marriage customs have changed. Everyone now insists on buying a house in the city. Without a house, girls won’t marry you.”

Yan Li emphasized the importance of buying a house in the city and its direct link to marriage.

At this stage, there were few commercial apartments in his hometown; most people simply didn’t have this concept, especially those from rural areas, who preferred building new homes over buying them.

By tying it to marriage, Yan Li had hit Zhang Hong’s sore point.

Earlier, when he mentioned buying a house, she’d avoided the topic; now that it was linked to finding a bride, she made up her mind.

“Buy it. We must buy a house. If we don’t have enough money, I’ll borrow it—even if I have to go into debt.”

Seeing his mother’s firm resolve, Yan Li felt joy—but also a flicker of unease.

He wasn’t sure if this decision was entirely right—what if, after buying the house, his mother started chasing him for a daughter-in-law?

(End of Chapter)