Chapter 965: Choice Matters More Than Effort

Exactly so!

Peng Xiao li clutched his teacup and glared: “If you’ve got nothing to hide, why be so cautious?!”

I thought so too!

Gu Cheng sipped his hot tea and asked Li Xuewu: “Leader, what should we…?”

Mm, drink your tea.

Li Xuewu smiled slightly, nodded at him, and asked: “Did you and Xiao li start working the same year?”

Uh… no.

Gu Cheng was startled by the sudden question, glanced at Peng Xiao li, then replied: “I started a year earlier than him.”

Yes, he’s one year older than me.

Peng Xiao li, still not understanding the leader’s intent, added: “But we both started after graduation…”

It’s fine, just asking casually.

Li Xuewu sensed the hesitation in their words, waved his hand, and said: “I’ve seen Xiao li’s personnel file; I haven’t seen Gu Cheng’s yet.”

I…

Leader!

Gu Cheng was about to explain when Peng Xiao li suddenly shouted and interrupted him.

He stared at Peng Xiao li, wondering what was wrong with the man—the leader had just said he didn’t know him, so why not explain quickly?

But Peng Xiao li ignored him, eyes wide, staring at Li Xuewu: “You mean… we start by checking personnel files?”

???

Gu Cheng looked blankly from Peng Xiao li to Li Xuewu.

Seeing the leader’s eyes half-lidded, he felt something in the conversation had slipped past him.

It’s the Labor Bureau!

Peng Xiao li suddenly sat up straight, his teacup shaking, tea leaves spilling out.

He didn’t even bother wiping the tea off his clothes, set the cup down, and said: “He’s targeting…”

Let’s check first—it might not be that.

Li Xuewu cut off Peng Xiao li’s speculation; jumping to such wild conclusions based only on someone’s movements would lead them ten thousand miles off track.

Peng Xiao li frowned slightly, nodded, and murmured: “Yes~ yes~ yes~ we must investigate thoroughly before drawing conclusions.”

But what about Director Li…?

He looked up at Li Xuewu tentatively: “Should we warn him in advance? Otherwise, if something comes later, it’ll be hard for you to explain.”

???

Gu Cheng was completely lost—what the hell? Weren’t we just talking about me?! How did it suddenly turn to the Labor Bureau?!

He hadn’t even figured out the Labor Bureau part yet, and now Peng Xiao li was bringing up Director Li—what did that have to do with Director Li?!

And what did Peng Xiao li mean by “he’s targeting”? Who exactly are we investigating?!

Watching Peng Xiao li now discussing something he couldn’t understand with the leader, Gu Cheng stared, dumbfounded.

It was like the teacher was explaining a problem, the good students were responding and even asking questions, while he, the struggling student, was still reading the question.

Let’s hold off for now, until we have some results—after all… right?

Li Xuewu sat cross-legged on the kang’s edge, eyelids half-lowered, answering Peng Xiao li’s reminder vaguely.

Peng Xiao li nodded knowingly, showing he understood the leader’s concerns.

Gu Cheng, seeing him nod, nodded along blankly, as if he’d understood too.

In truth, he was still wondering: Is Peng Xiao li smarter than me?

Or has he been with the leader so long he’s learned how the leader thinks?

This feeling—three people sitting together talking about the same thing, two of them understanding, only him lost, yet pretending to understand—was excruciating.

Gu Cheng can’t continue on this. I’ll assign someone else.

Peng Xiao li lifted his teacup, sipped, and said to the leader: “This matter ultimately must be handled by Zhang Shicheng—just keep an eye on him.”

No rush, take it slow.

Li Xuewu glanced at the two and said: “If you have time, reconnect with your old colleagues from the Committee Office—friends are always valuable, no matter when.”

Understood, Leader.

Peng Xiao li nodded seriously—he’d studied this young leader’s rise long before becoming his secretary.

Working under Li Xuewu since then, he’d gained deeper insight into interpersonal dynamics.

Everyone says Li Xuewu is ruthless, with no friends—but the more ruthless he is, the more gently he presents his social connections.

Whether at the steel mill or any other department he’s passed through, he doesn’t have friends everywhere, but the relationships he has are genuinely useful.

Saying “I have friends here, friends there” means nothing compared to Li Xuewu—someone who never contacts you daily, yet when you need him, a single name he names is an opportunity.

The longer Peng Xiao li stayed by his side, the more he understood and felt.

Human social nature has inner and outer layers; broad and narrow definitions don’t align—but for interpersonal relationships, personalization is essential in every sense.

A unit is a Jianghu ; someone may show side A, filtering in those drawn to side B.

But when side A becomes too pronounced, crystallizing into a unique personality, those drawn to side B will still be drawn to interact with him.

Passive factors may include flattery, fear, admiration, or even self-interest.

So there’s no such thing as a true social isolate; Peng Xiao li later realized: his old lack of friends wasn’t because he was too nice—it was because he wasn’t bad enough, hadn’t developed a distinctive edge.

Either be so good everyone loves you, forever, never daring to offend anyone, burdened by reputation your whole life.

Or be bad enough—bad enough that people fear you, dread you, dare not offend you, even flatter you and stand beside you to protect themselves.

Peng Xiao li dared not say Li Xuewu was “bad”—badness is a personality trait, not a moral failing; if your character is bad, you’ll never have friends.

What kind of character does Li Xuewu have?

Need I say? At his age, holding this position and status—he’s the model for young people’s advancement.

Like Li Xuewu, he didn’t want to be a nice guy—it was too exhausting, offered no room to maneuver, made you an easy target.

So if he wanted to advance, he had to follow Li Xuewu’s lead—not just deepen his personal abilities, but expand his personal charm.

It sounded mystical, but any seasoned office veteran understood it instantly—no need to explain further.

Look at how Li Xuewu gets along with the factory leadership?

He once fought Director Jing for control of the tertiary sector to the point of open conflict—yet now they still work together.

His own sister, Li Shu, was chosen by Director Jing as his secretary—what a complicated relationship.

Now Director Li and Director Cheng hold opposing positions, yet still sit at the same table, laughing and chatting.

But think: they smile to your face, curse behind your back—what if Director Cheng stabs Director Li in the back? What will Director Li do?

Everyone says Director Li and Director Li have a solid bond, are on the same side, ironclad allies.

But look closely—wasn’t the knife Director Cheng plunged into Director Li’s back handed to him by Director Li?

Are you saying Director Li is unprincipled?

This must be viewed from different angles—Peng Xiao li, as Director Li’s secretary, could only see it from his leader’s perspective.

Even if his leader asked him to hand over a gun or artillery, he’d do it.

A scholar dies for one who understands him—he was once just a lowly secretary in the factory office, and Li Xuewu was the one who lifted him up, propelled him through the Dragon Gate to where he is today.

Like the other secretary, Director Shi, who also sought to trouble Director Li, they were both secretaries, serving different masters—that was fate’s choice.

Peng Xiao li dared to join this matter not only to actively help his leader, proving loyalty—but to learn this art of using four ounces to move a thousand pounds.

One sentence, one strategy, one person could use a single case to trigger major actions across multiple departments, even directly influencing the political direction of Dongcheng.

While organizing materials on this case for Li Xuewu, he’d been so stunned by its complex web of relationships and hidden strategies that he couldn’t sleep at night.

Throughout, Li Xuewu never overstepped or intervened in the case through other means.

It was the branch that proactively reached out, even leveraging connections to coordinate with the department, requesting him as interrogation support.

During the investigation, Li Xuewu strictly adhered to his role, followed discipline and regulations, never took credit, never stepped forward—even dodging once midway.

In the subsequent interrogations and arrests, whatever the superiors requested, he complied fully, covering all relationships, honoring everyone’s face.

And he himself chose to step back before the case was fully resolved—his conduct was truly admirable.

It was precisely this magnanimity, restraint, responsibility, and ability to obey orders precisely when needed that made everyone acknowledge his contribution.

He asked for nothing—and yet he got everything; no one dared to slight him in reputation or substance.

Quietly, Li Xuewu had already begun his layout—branch, discipline inspection, confidentiality, credit union—all departments had fallen into the trap.

To deal with outsiders, first secure your interior; while planning Dongcheng’s future, in one night, Director Li was lured into the water; over a single meal, Director Cheng jumped in himself.

The earlier incident stirred up by Director Shi seemed like a fuse, igniting the next phase of struggle within the factory.

Director Li felt invincible; since his relationship with Director Li was so strong, Director Li naturally couldn’t let him feel lonely.

So when the matter arose, the leader didn’t explain clearly—but Peng Xiao li knew exactly what he was doing.

He didn’t think luring Director Cheng, this big fish, into this pot was good for Director Li.

But the leader’s intent was the same: let him jump—it was Director Cheng who leapt in, drawn by the scent.

Let him fight—it was Director Cheng who uncovered clues and actively challenged Director Li.

What did Director Li do?

Peng Xiao li was certain: the leader did nothing. Director Li was a good man—he was even helping Director Li stay alert to Director Cheng’s unusual behavior.

In the end, when the pot boiled into chaos, Director Li would still need Director Li’s support and aid; Director Li would still stand beside him, assisting.

The thought that the leader did nothing, yet everything shifted according to his plan, and the rewards naturally flowed to him—Peng Xiao li couldn’t suppress his excitement, even feeling his heart tremble.

He wanted to learn—he was certain he had to learn this way of handling affairs; even if he couldn’t master the ability to maneuver so many people and departments, even learning a fraction of it would serve him for life.

Coming out of the gatehouse, Gu Cheng still frowned, glancing back with regret, wondering what he had just missed.

Peng Xiao li clutched his fists tightly, escorting Gu Cheng out the main gate while silently vowing to himself.

One day when I hold power, I’ll learn from the bosses and breed fighting dogs!

“You’re awake? Would you like some water?”

“What time is it?”

Li Xuewu pushed up his sleeve and, half-asleep, squinted at his watch through the dim light filtering through the window.

Zhou Xiaobai answered ahead of time: “Just past four. I was told by Sister Yu to wake you in case you had something tonight.”

“Mm, thanks. I nearly overslept.”

Li Xuewu spoke these words but stayed lying on the kang, feeling how comfortable it was beneath him, even shifting his body slightly.

He hadn’t slept on a heated kang in ages—especially during this cold winter. The Haiyun Warehouse had everything going for it, except a heated kang.

It wasn’t surprising he hadn’t thought to build one—the building already had central heating, and with the walls so tightly sealed, even if he had installed a kang, it wouldn’t just be hard to fire, it would get unbearably hot.

The solid wood bed on the second floor of the villa wasn’t cold, but no matter how thick the bedding, it couldn’t match the warmth and comfort of a heated kang.

“Would you like some water?”

Seeing he didn’t move, Zhou Xiaobai walked to the edge of the kang, leaned close, and looked straight into Li Xuewu’s eyes with a bright smile: “You snore so evenly~”

“Mm, tired.”

Li Xuewu smiled and said: “As soon as my body touches a heated kang, I get sleepy—especially after a big lunch.”

“We all heard—you were completely plastered!”

Zhou Xiaobai pinched her nose cutely and said: “Why did you drink so much? They said they collected a whole box of empty bottles.”

“Exaggerated—I didn’t drink that much.”

Li Xuewu shook his head and sat up, pulling off the blanket covering him to look for cigarettes.

Zhou Xiaobai suddenly reached out and snatched his cigarette pack and lighter, frowning: “Smoke less—it’s dry enough in winter.”

Then she walked to the tea cabinet, picked up the warm water already prepared, and handed it to him: “Sleeping on a heated kang—don’t you worry about dry throat and fire in your body? Sip some water.”

“Is that really necessary~”

Li Xuewu gave her a wry look, muttered under his breath, but still took the cup and drank.

Zhou Xiaobai pursed her lips and sat on the edge of the kang, watching Li Xuewu: “My dad’s the same—he loves sleeping on heated kangs and smoking, always gets throat trouble.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll listen to you.”

Seeing she’d brought up her father to “scold” him, Li Xuewu had no choice but to surrender.

It was just smoking—it wasn’t like he couldn’t quit. He’d smoked for years and didn’t feel any real addiction.

“Did Sister Yu send you?”

Watching Zhou Xiaobai’s serious expression, Li Xuewu tugged at his lips, set down the teacup, and asked casually: “What’s she doing? Still busy?”

“Manager Lou came back—he took Aunt Tan and the kids up the mountain, arrived at the compound around two in the afternoon.”

Zhou Xiaobai studied Li Xuewu as she explained: “Sister Yu is now discussing work with Manager Lou. Later, she’ll have to deal with her brother—he said he has something.”

“Who? Yu Zhe?”

Li Xuewu knew Yu Li had a younger brother here, so he immediately thought of him.

Zhou Xiaobai nodded, lips pressed tight, her expression tinged with distaste, as if she found something deeply annoying.

Seeing Li Xuewu’s questioning gaze, she puckered her lips: “I can’t say—it’s not right to gossip behind someone’s back.”

“Heh~”

Li Xuewu chuckled: “Did he cause some trouble?”

As he spoke, he got off the kang, put on his shoes, and teased Zhou Xiaobai: “He didn’t by any chance take a fancy to you, want to date you?”

“Not me~”

Zhou Xiaobai first pouted, denying his words, then glared at him, irritated.

Li Xuewu glanced at her, amused: “Angry? I was just teasing you~”

He reached out and pinched her nose, then stood up: “So was I right? Not you—then who?”

“I won’t tell you~”

Zhou Xiaobai pouted, annoyed by his babyish tone, yet answered like a child.

Li Xuewu really did treat her like a child—how old was she anyway?

Too young for me~

“Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll go out and tell everyone you told me.”

“I didn’t!”

Zhou Xiaobai hadn’t expected him to be so sneaky and shameless—her eyes widened in shock.

Li Xuewu pulled on his coat and overcoat, grinned mischievously, and winked at her: “It’s just you and me in here—who do you think they’ll believe?”

“Oh! You’re so mean~”

Zhou Xiaobai stood up and punched him hard: “I didn’t say anything—it was you making wild guesses!”

“Haha~ I don’t care~”

Li Xuewu teased her on purpose, ignoring her punches to his back, laughing as he stepped out of the gatehouse.

Dou Yaozu had turned this compound into a teaching tool for his young apprentices.

He gave a long deadline, so Dou Yaozu wasn’t in a rush—he took his time for fine work.

Outdoor construction had halted for winter, but interior renovations continued.

Li Xuewu hadn’t paid attention to the progress in the back courtyard lately, but the front courtyard’s transformation was now obvious.

No longer the dilapidated, pitch-dark ruin it once was, the compound now glowed with lanterns as the sun set, a few lingering rays still clinging to the sky.

These weren’t the simple paper lanterns of the Sihe Academy, nor the old European streetlamps left over from pre-liberation days—they were cleverly designed Chinese-style classical palace lanterns, used as landscape lighting.

If not for their square shape, being in this grand courtyard might have made Li Xuewu think of “Big Red Lanterns High Hang.”

Whose lantern hung outside meant who got summoned to the master’s bed at night—the ancients really knew how to play.

As he walked toward the parking lot with Zhou Xiaobai muttering behind him, he was almost at the car before turning back to the girl nearly bumping into him: “You’re coming home with me?”

“Huh?”

Only now did Zhou Xiaobai realize she’d followed Li Xuewu all the way to the parking lot.

“Y-You’re going home?”

She looked at him helplessly, her eyes filled with panic and loneliness.

That morning she’d heard Wu Ge had arrived, but the service department needed staff on duty, and there was cargo to sort.

Luo Yun had delayed a bit, then came back and chattered to her for a long while.

She’d planned to bump into him at lunch, but then heard Huang Gan and the others had booked a private room for business.

She waited until the service department was free, then came here after being told by Director Yu, hoping to have dinner with him.

She hadn’t had a proper chat with him in ages—she couldn’t even wait a week for him to show up, and she didn’t understand why he was always so busy.

Seeing her pitiful expression, Li Xuewu smiled and patted her cheek, teasing: “Want to come home with me? I’m short of a plump little girl.”

“You’re the plump little girl~”

Zhou Xiaobai pouted, swatted his hand away, and huffed: “You always tease me!”

“Heh, why tease you? If you’re coming with me.”

At that moment, Old Zhao Four jogged over, handed him the keys, glanced at the coquettish Zhou Xiaobai, and whispered to Li Xuewu that the water in the car had been warmed.

Li Xuewu thanked him, asked about Old Zhao Five’s condition, and Old Zhao Four replied with a few words.

Zhou Xiaobai stood stubbornly to the side, knowing full well Li Xuewu was deliberately talking to Zhao Dezhu to get her to leave.

But she refused to go—she just lingered, wanting to stay with him a little longer.

Old Zhao Four was sharp as a tack, always observant.

After a few pleasantries, he read Zhou Xiaobai’s feelings, gestured toward the gate, and told Li Xuewu he’d be ready to open it as soon as his car pulled out.

Watching Zhao Dezhu leave, Zhou Xiaobai shifted her stance, leaning against the driver’s door, pouting stubbornly as she stared at Li Xuewu.

She didn’t know why she felt this bold now—maybe it was the hurt, maybe she just missed him.

When Director Yu told her to wake him, she hadn’t realized it—now she understood: Sister Yu had known he was leaving, and had made her wait for days just to see him once.

But she was young, greedy—just one meeting wasn’t enough.

Li Xuewu smiled at the girl’s childish antics, pointed to the passenger seat: “If you’re coming home, you’ve got to sit in the front—unless you want to drive?”

Zhou Xiaobai knew she was being unreasonable today, so she ignored his teasing, just glanced at him, then lowered her head to stare at her feet.

Seeing her act up, Li Xuewu squeezed his keys, looked at the darkening sky, and asked: “Shall I take you home?”

Zhou Xiaobai shook her head slightly, stood straight, looked up at him, and asked: “Will you come again next week?”

“Not sure~”

Li Xuewu answered honestly: “If I’m not busy, I’ll come. If I’m swamped, I’ll have to prioritize work—I might even have to travel.”

Zhou Xiaobai hadn’t expected him to come every week, but seeing he wouldn’t even lie to comfort her, her eyes filled with tears.

“Sorry, Wu Ge~”

She pouted, stepped aside, and whispered: “I just… I just…”

“Oh no~ Oh no~”

Li Xuewu couldn’t stand girls crying—he sighed, gently lifted her chin to stop her tears.

But it was like he’d flipped a switch—she cried harder, more heartbrokenly.

The weather was cold—crying like this would freeze her face raw, and there she stood, pitifully sobbing—how could he possibly get in the car and leave?

“So you think you can play with me, huh?”

Li Xuewu helplessly took off his gloves, pulled her close, and pulled out his handkerchief to wipe her tears.

Zhou Xiaobai dared not cry out, biting her lip to hold back, but her tears kept welling up.

Watching her tears refuse to stop, Li Xuewu patted her back and asked, “I’m going on a business trip to Jinmen tomorrow—want to come?”

“B-business trip?”

Hearing him say that, Zhou Xiaobai forgot her grievances and tears, lifted her head to look at him, and asked, “To Jinmen?”

“Mm, might be several days.”

Seeing she’d stopped crying, Li Xuewu wiped her face with the handkerchief and said, “It’ll be tiring going and coming—you’ll have to take leave yourself.”

“Then I’m going! I’m coming with you!”

Without hesitation, she broke into a smile at just two words from Li Xuewu, nodding eagerly to join him for an outing.

Then she remembered what he’d just said and asked hesitantly, “Will I be disturbing your work?”

“Hmm, if you put it that way...”

Li Xuewu teased her, feigning thought, then nodded and said, “Then maybe I won’t take you?”

“No way!”

Zhou Xiaobai pouted and scolded, “You just said you would! You promised to take me!”

“Fine! Fine! I’ll take you!”

Seeing her face—“If you’re going to pout, I’ll cry!”—Li Xuewu pressed the handkerchief against her face and teased, “You cried too ugly. When we get to Jinmen, I’ll sell you for cash.”

“I don’t believe you~”

Happy inside, Zhou Xiaobai pouted and cooed, “Wu-ge, you’re the best!”

“Mm, now I’m the good guy again.”

Li Xuewu opened the car door to get in, but Zhou Xiaobai grabbed his arm.

“What? You really planning to come home with me?”

“No way~”

Zhou Xiaobai puffed her cheeks, eyes sparkling with delight, gazing at him with shy hope, and asked sweetly, “What should I pack?”

“First, wash your face—you look awful.”

Li Xuewu stepped into the car, saw her pouting again, rolled down the window, started the engine, and said, “Just get leave here. Bring everyday clothes, toiletries—bring a toothbrush, nothing else.”

“Oh, by the way!”

As he stepped on the gas to drive off, he leaned out the window to remind Zhou Xiaobai, “Ask Luo Yun too—see if she wants to come.”

“Why call her? She’ll say no!”

Just a moment ago, Zhou Xiaobai had been thrilled, imagining how fun the trip to Jinmen would be; now, hearing Wu-ge’s words, she froze.

Li Xuewu tapped her nose through the window and said, “You’re so loyal! She’s your best friend—don’t be selfish.”

“Best friends don’t have to go everywhere together~”

Zhou Xiaobai clearly wanted to keep it to herself—she wasn’t about to be loyal now, not when it meant sharing her time with Li Xuewu.

Seeing he insisted, she slyly asked, “Should I call Zuo Jie too? He’s Luo Yun’s best buddy!”

“I don’t have room for ‘best buddies’ here.”

Li Xuewu ruffled her hair and said, “It’s settled. I’ve got things tonight—I’m leaving. Someone will pick you up tomorrow.”

“Hmph~!”

Zhou Xiaobai stood there, watching the Jeep drive off, pouted, and muttered, “I don’t have room for best friends either!”

“Whoa~ whoa~ yah~!”

In the west courtyard, Da Lao held the whip in one hand and the reins in the other, whistling to guide the big blue horse to stop the cart piled high with firewood at the woodshed.

“Shh~ whoa! Shh~ whoa! Yah~!”

Seeing the headlights flash through the west courtyard gate, Da Lao knew it was his own vehicle.

He’d just returned and didn’t know whether it was the Willys or the GAZ-69.

Only when the Jeep entered the yard and the headlights faded did he realize it was his grandson.

It was too cold, and Li Xuewu planned to eat dinner before leaving, so he parked the car directly in the garage.

Knowing winter brought such situations, the garage—converted from a storage shed—had been specially fitted with a stove and heated walls this year.

Normally, the Willys and GAZ-69 were parked inside; when not in use, the stove wasn’t lit—just heat water when needed.

Knowing Li Xuewu was coming for dinner, Sha Zhu had already told Xiao Yan and the others to light the stove.

As he stepped out of the garage, the boys tidying up the vehicle logs greeted him.

Shen Guodong stood by the scale and waved him over, signaling him to go inside—he didn’t need help here.

The Thirteen Taibao: the eldest and second had gone to Gangcheng; the third and sixth to Jicheng; the fourth and fifth to Gangcheng.

Now seven remained at home, starting with the seventh, She Yongwen.

These boys, after a year of training and adaptation, had long grown accustomed to the recycling station’s life.

Now each rode a tricycle across Beijing, unafraid of street kids or troublemakers—they knew everyone.

The recycling station still followed Li Xuewu’s rule: all vehicles must return home before dark; early starts allowed, but no staying out late.

By the time his car entered the yard, She Yongwen and the others had already turned in their vehicles and scrap, waiting to help Da Lao unload.

Today, while they were out working, Da Lao hadn’t rested—he left Er Ye to manage the shop and drove the cart outside to gather firewood.

Gathering firewood didn’t take long, but the round-trip did—Beijing was huge, and there was no firewood to be found in the city or suburbs; they had to go into the woods.

Li Xuewu tossed his cigarette butt, took off his leather gloves, and shed his coat to help.

“Where’d you get all this firewood?”

“No need for you!”

Da Lao waved him off. “Don’t ruin your good clothes here—we’ve got enough hands.”

He pushed him aside, smiling: “Just happened to catch the park’s tree-cutting season—we picked up what they discarded, loaded a whole cart, didn’t even go far—just took time to load it.”

As he explained, he loosened the ropes on the cart and told She Yongwen and the others where to start unloading.

All branches and twigs—the park only wanted logs, so they threw these away; perfect for kindling.

Da Lao was meticulous—the branches were bundled tightly, clearly tied and loaded on-site.

This way, they packed more, didn’t get damaged on the way back, and were easy to stack and dry at home.

“Aren’t there already firewood prepared on the mountain? If not enough, have Guodong bring a cart back—it’s too cold to bother.”

“Nah~ not that cold.”

Da Lao knew his grandson worried for him, waved it off with a smile: “Today there weren’t many people, nothing to do—just took a horse ride and got it all done.”

The big blue horse snorted, shook its head, didn’t move—but the cart swayed, and the tenth boy on top nearly tumbled off.

These boys were tough, didn’t care about danger, laughed and joked, yet worked without pause.

One cartload of firewood was hard for Da Lao alone, but with six or seven boys, they finished in no time.

They didn’t even ask Da Lao to help—just let him stand and talk with Li Xuewu.

Da Lao studied Li Xuewu, smiling as he asked about Gu Ning, then about the little girl Li Shu.

Since the weather turned cool, Gu Ning and Li Shu hadn’t come here; Da Lao had been busy with the recycling station, so they hadn’t seen each other in nearly two months.

Li Xuewu gave a few answers; when Shen Guodong finished his ledger and came over, Da Lao urged him inside, complaining he was dressed too lightly and would catch cold.

The front shop was still busy—it was barely five-thirty, peak hour.

Shen Guodong walked with him toward the entrance, explaining: “It won’t be over till at least six-thirty, especially on Sundays—more people.”

“You’re in charge—you decide.”

Li Xuewu glanced at him, nodded toward the front shop, and asked, “Diliya’s off—do you have enough staff?”

“We’re fine—we help each other.”

Shen Guodong took his cigarette, lit it, and explained: “Everyone’s skilled now—it’s just a rush for a while, and we’re all back.”

“If not enough, hire more, or coordinate with Yu Li.”

Li Xuewu patted his arm and entered the recycling shop through the back door.

Inside, Er Ye and Xiao Yan stood behind the counter, hands flying, serving customers who came to sell scrap or exchange for daily necessities.

Since they weren’t part of the supply system, they couldn’t sell goods from the supply and marketing cooperative.

But when Lao Biao was here, he arranged with Director Ma to get some daily items—matches, candles—as trade for scrap.

The shop also added hardware goods from the steel mill and small items from the prison workshop.

Scattered but plentiful—the counter was now full, especially with secondhand radios and flashlights; the shop truly resembled a supply store.

But unlike the supply store, here money could be used—but only for secondhand goods.

You could pay cash, but only for used items.

The room was crowded; Shen Guodong said a word to Li Xuewu and went to help, leaving him standing alone by the door.

Familiar neighbors waved and greeted him; he smiled back.

Er Ye turned, smiled at him, said a few words, then returned to his work.

Li Xuewu didn’t intrude—he turned and went to the neighboring shop, which sold furniture; fewer people here.

Wang Yamei saw him enter and greeted him with a smile, saying it had been a long time.

Li Xuewu teased her a bit, then spoke with Fei Shanying, who sat behind the counter.

Fei Shanying’s belly was quite large—when she returned from Gangcheng, it wasn’t obvious; now it was clearly swollen.

“Why are you back for dinner today?”

She glanced at the backyard and asked, “Did Xiao Ning and the child come too?”

“Who’d dare cause trouble?”

Li Xuewu watched Wang Ya Mei skillfully attending to customers and replied, “It’s too cold—what if they catch a cold? I came just by chance.”

“What about you? Did you go for a hospital checkup? Everything alright?”

“I went. Last week your mother went with me.”

Fei Shanying smiled and said, “It’s not the first time. Honestly, there’s no need to go to the hospital—it’s just wasting money.”

“Mm, this money isn’t wasted.”

Li Xuewu smiled and said, “My third uncle works outside to support you and the kids—don’t skimp on him.”

“How can you say that~?”

When Fei Shanying heard him mention Wen San’er, her face lit up with satisfaction—she never expected that such a reckless man would actually bring her fortune.

When she was widowed, all she wanted was either not to remarry at all, or if she did, to find someone who’d treat her child well—even if he had no home or property.

Her husband left her a house and savings, and secured a job opportunity for her son. She could never just think of herself and let her child suffer.

Back then, Wen San’er looked ragged, dressed ragged, collected trash, and was utterly destitute.

Yet this man, who seemed barely able to survive himself, still smiled and played with her son Zhang Limin—and her son loved playing with him. It naturally stirred her heart.

After observing him for a while, and with Wen San’er’s initiative, the two became a couple.

The day before their wedding, she still complained that Wen San’er was being ridiculous—insisting on holding a wedding ceremony.

With one of them bringing a child and the other a broke-down family, just getting the certificate and living together would’ve been enough—why the formality?

Even as the wedding day approached, she had no idea how Wen San’er had arranged things—until the ceremony itself, when she saw the scene before her and was utterly stunned.

They said he was a broke-down man, yet somehow he’d turned himself into a ragged capitalist.

Since coming here to help him after the wedding, the longer she stayed, the more amazed she became.

Then Wen San’er said he wanted to move to Gangcheng, and later—again—he said they’d move to Gangcheng.

She felt like she was living a dream; in her entire life, she’d never imagined she’d ever enjoy peace and comfort with this man.

Even when he first mentioned Gangcheng, she was shocked—afraid this bastard might sell her and her child.

When Wen San’er sent them back before heading to Gangcheng, he gave her a bag that night—his savings from that period.

It wasn’t much—just two thousand yuan. Not because Wen San’er had no money or didn’t want to give it, but because he feared giving too much might bring trouble.

As days passed and her belly grew larger, she occasionally received letters from Shen Guodong, yet her heart felt unusually calm and peaceful.

She hadn’t done anything—yet she’d lived a life she’d once admired but never dared dream of.

If you asked her how she did it, she could only tell you: sometimes, choice matters more than effort.

That’s what Wen San’er told her, in response to her question about how he’d earned so much money and built such a vast enterprise.

She still remembered the expression and tone on Wen San’er’s face when he said those words.

A destitute orphan, fatherless and motherless, with no job and no relatives to rely on, he survived by shady alleyway trades.

He ate one meal without knowing where the next would come from, never knowing if he’d be dragged off for labor, or worse—shot.

But heaven doesn’t starve the blind sparrow—it gave him a chance to rise from rags to riches.

Hadn’t he worked hard before?

He’d nearly begged on his knees for scraps!

And now look—he’s the one handing out meals to others!

So when he says choice matters more than effort—