Chapter 966: The New Year Is Coming

“Hey hey! Chicken, potato, and mushroom stew!”

“And another specialty—spicy tofu!”

Xiao Zhu tossed his large ladle lightly onto the stove, then scooped a gourd of cold water and poured it into the pot.

He shouted “All done!”—the six dishes for tonight were now all on the table.

Laoba and Laojiu were happy to help out in the kitchen, using the chance to learn from him, and he didn’t mind.

Cooks, since ancient times, have never been a trade requiring top-secret transmission to preserve legitimacy; no rule says “only sons, not daughters,” or “only insiders, not outsiders.”

Skill depends on practice time and how much heart you put in—take knife skills alone: no matter how smart you are, you still have to sweat.

As for mastering and adjusting flavor, you must rely on endless practice and repeated tasting to understand what your master means by “just right.”

If you want to learn from a Northeastern cook, you’ve got your work cut out for you.

Why’s that?

Because Northeastern masters will tell you “a pinch,” “a gulp,” “a little bit,” “a lump”…

“Enough, don’t clean up—let’s eat first.”

Xiao Zhu shoved Laoba’s head aside, signaling him not to bother with the pots—just wash up and come inside to eat.

These two boys were eager to please him, always helping clean up, always enthusiastic.

After spending so much time together, even though Xiao Zhu never said he’d take them as apprentices, wasn’t it good to have someone helping out?

With fewer people at the recycling station, his wife collected her salary but didn’t work, so he had to do more.

Shen Guodong was righteous; Xiao Zhu wasn’t a freeloader—he handled two meals a day at the recycling station, and all the work on Sundays fell to him.

These boys had opened their eyes through reading; they knew that to survive in this world, you needed some exceptional skill.

Their six older brothers had long since left to make their way in the world; though their letters always sounded good, how could they really know?

If it were truly good, why travel so far? Couldn’t they just beg for food at their own doorstep?

The boys who stayed home felt increasing urgency and a sense of crisis.

In every letter from their older brothers, they were told to cherish time and study hard.

“Books seem few when you need them”—only after facing the fiercest edge of social competition did they realize how weak they were.

Sales has always been the most transparent job for testing willpower and overall ability.

The old saying goes: “More skills never weigh you down.” There were plenty of skilled people at the recycling station, but the only truly accessible skill seemed to be Xiao Zhu’s cooking.

Er Ye’s antique appraisal? That takes years to master. Da Lao’s carpentry isn’t just about strength—it demands brains too.

Li’s uncle’s traditional medicine was impressive, but medicine isn’t just about hard work—it requires talent.

Otherwise, how come only one of Li’s four children inherited his uncle’s craft?

Biao Ge had told them not to feel pressured: if all else failed, they could learn to bluff—he’d teach them how to talk nonsense, and that was still a skill.

After hearing Biao Ge’s words, their pressure only grew: some boys studied math from textbooks, others wanted to learn accounting from Ya Fang, some trained with Da Lao in carpentry—even the worst could become a lumber worker.

Laoba and Laojiu were the smartest—they chose a skill that wouldn’t let them starve.

By the time they entered the room, the east room was lively—because Li Xuewu had returned, and because six dishes sat on the table.

They squeezed into the seats long reserved for them, greeted Er Ye and Da Lao at one end, then smiled and greeted Li Xuewu.

Da Lao, kind-hearted, smiled and waved them to eat.

Er Ye, pleased by the boys’ manners and upbringing, wore a warmer smile.

Shen Guodong waved to Xiao Zhu as he walked in: “Zhu Ge, come, let’s have a drink.”

“No way, no way—your drinking capacity is terrible.”

Xiao Zhu stood smiling at the door, watching everyone enjoy their meal—he was even more satisfied.

Er Ye called him to join the table, but Xiao Zhu just picked up a cup of tea and replied: “You eat first—I’m not hungry yet.”

Cooks’ old habit: after cooking, you’re no longer hungry.

“What’s this? Did you sneak snacks in the kitchen?”

Yu Li teased him: “Sister-in-law, Zhu Ge’s belly’s almost as big as yours.”

“Perfect—then let’s have twins!”

He Yushi mocked her brother: “Looking at that belly, my brother’s going to give birth before my sister-in-law!”

Di Liya, teased, laughed and playfully nudged Yushi, then looked at Xiao Zhu and said: “His appetite’s really increased lately—maybe it’s from the medicine.”

“It’s from exhaustion!”

Xiao Zhu sat on the kang, holding his tea cup and scolding them: “Think about it—how busy am I every day?”

“From morning: lighting the stove, dumping ash, making breakfast, heating water!”

“After a full day’s work, I come home and still have to braise offal and cook dinner, wash clothes, tidy the house!”

He complained: “Now I’m both cook and housemaid—no wonder I’ve gotten fat!”

“You’ve got a lot to say!”

Yu Li scolded: “So it’s only women’s duty to serve men, but when we’re pregnant, you won’t even lift a finger?”

“Di Liya!”

She turned and said with a laugh: “A man like this has no backbone—let’s find someone better, and give the baby a real father!”

“Hey! Hey! Hey!”

Xiao Zhu waved his hand at Yu Li: “I’ve heard of tearing down temples, but never of breaking up marriages—I haven’t wronged you!”

“You haven’t wronged me—you’re jealous!”

Yu Li glared at him: “Are you complaining—or bragging?”

“Speak!”

Yushi chimed in: “Do you enjoy serving my sister-in-law? Are you willing or not?”

“I…”

Xiao Zhu saw his wife’s gaze turn toward him—he jumped up and told Shen Guodong: “Pour the wine! I told you I wouldn’t drink, but you insisted!”

“Hahaha!”

Shen Guodong set down a wine cup beside him and teased: “You won’t join us at this table? You’d rather face the ‘Three Mothers Teaching Their Sons’ ordeal—now you’re quiet, aren’t you?”

“Don’t you dare talk!”

Xiao Zhu sat down and told Shen Guodong: “My life today is your tomorrow—when Xiao Yan gets pregnant, you’ll understand my suffering.”

“Not necessarily!”

Shen Guodong teased: “Even if serving a pregnant wife is exhausting, I’d never complain.”

“Damn it!”

Xiao Zhu raised his wine cup, glaring at him: “You stabbed me in the front at the kang table, now you stab me in the back!”

“Drink!”

He slammed his cup down loudly: “I’m going to get you drunk tonight!”

“Hmm~ I’m so scared!”

Shen Guodong raised his cup to clink with his, teasing: “Let’s see if you can even lift the second cup after this one!”

“Sss~”

After downing the wine, Xiao Zhu turned and glanced at the kang table—Di Liya’s eyes were already on him—he glared back.

“What are you looking at? After this cup, no one’s stopping me—not even my wife!”

He flipped his cup over, facing Shen Guodong with a stubborn grin: “I said I won’t drink!”

“Zhu Ge, you’re a real man! True grit!”

Shen Guodong was ruthless—he wouldn’t let this go, teasing him nonstop.

Xiao Yan sat on the edge of the kang and scolded Shen Guodong: “Enough! Learn from Zhu Ge—he’s considerate and family-oriented, far better than you.”

“Fine! So you’re scared of him too!”

Xiao Zhu grinned and pointed at Shen Guodong: “We’re all brothers—don’t talk about each other. Our family status is equally low!”

“I’m better than you.”

Shen Guodong winked and smiled: “At least I don’t have a sister who sides against me.”

“Brother, you hit the nail on the head.”

Xiao Zhu suddenly hugged Shen Guodong and wailed: “You understand me best~”

“I shouldn’t have let you all get wives!”

Yushi glared at the two men seated at the ground table, then scanned the room: “No man is good!”

“!!!”

Li Xuewu, who had barely spoken, suddenly froze—he turned toward the kang table and locked eyes with Yushi.

Seeing him look, Yushi lowered her eyelids and turned back to her meal.

Her remark swept across all the men at the ground table—Da Lao and Er Ye just smiled, ignoring the young ones’ banter; the boys exchanged glances, shrugged, and kept eating.

Yushi said no man is good—but they were still far from being bad.

Right now, they needed to eat well, grow strong, train hard—so someday, women would say they weren’t good either!

When this house first started cooking, at least thirty people ate together—hard to even catch a word in the chatter.

Today, with Li Xuewu back and Yu Li returning for dinner, there were only nineteen.

Even counting Zhang Xinmin, Fei Shanying’s son, the kang table was full, but the big ground table wasn’t even filled.

It was still lively, but not as noisy as before—no Lao Biao shouting, no Wen San chattering.

Li Xuewu had said almost nothing, just listened as everyone talked.

After dinner, the boys rushed to clear the tables and then went to clean the kitchen.

Li Xuewu joined his grandfather and others in the western room for tea, while the women chattered along behind them.

Whenever Li Xuewu came home for dinner, a small meeting was always held afterward to review and assist with the recycling station, the retail shop, and their personal work.

When Lao Biao was still in charge, he oversaw not only the recycling station and its liaison duties with other departments in Jingcheng, but also operations in Gangcheng and other areas.

Back then, after reporting on Jingcheng matters, Lao Biao would also update on work in other regions.

Now, Yu Li and Su Qing have set up a management office at the club, and coordination of recycling stations has been handed over to this office.

Even Jingcheng’s operations have been split into three parts: Shen Guodong took over external trade.

Xiao Yan manages the recycling station’s retail shop, while Grandpa handles waste and furniture operations.

When Li Xuewu holds meetings now, they only report on their own assigned duties, mostly discussing minor matters within the recycling station.

Important work is all reported to the management office, where Yu Li and Su Qing organize it and submit it to Li Xuewu for unified handling.

So Li Xuewu comes home less often, and when he does, he listens more and speaks less.

They’re all familiar with recycling station operations and no longer need his guidance.

Even accounting is sent to the First Prison for auditing and bookkeeping; all funds are handled through banks—there’s almost nothing left for him to comment on.

Shen Guodong has a quick temper, especially when it comes to work, and he jumped right in to report on the adjustments at the First Prison.

Because papermaking and printing operations are relocating, sales of stationery like comic books, red-covered books, and notebooks must also be adjusted.

He went on at length about raw material procurement, timber sourcing in Jicheng, and greenhouse vegetables from the mountains.

There were no outsiders in the room; Fei Shanying didn’t listen to these matters and took the children to the back courtyard with the pregnant Dilinya.

Wang Yamei went home with Wang Yajuan, who came to pick her up after dinner, leaving only a few people in the room.

The only ones with no real connection were Shazhu and Yushui—Shazhu lay on the kang doing nothing, while Yushui sat at the kang table sipping tea.

Li Xuewu sat cross-legged on the edge of the kang, leaning against the kang cabinet; beside him stood the desk, where Yu Li sat.

As Shen Guodong droned on, Yu Li, across from Li Xuewu, caught Yushui’s gaze occasionally sweeping over him from where she sat along the kang.

“Huang Gan told me about the First Prison.”

Li Xuewu set down his teacup and said to the slightly complaining Shen Guodong: “Papermaking will have to move eventually; now that it’s moving, you’ll have less to do with raw material procurement.”

“Chadian falls under Huang Gan’s father’s jurisdiction; all paper bundles go directly to the Third Prison in Xicheng. From now on, you only deal with Zhong Jingxue on printing matters.”

“Speaking of Chadian, you should arrange to go there with Huang Gan and Zhong Jingxue.”

Li Xuewu slapped Yushui’s back where her foot had kicked him, then told Shen Guodong: “Her deputy director is connected to Huang Gan—try to establish contact if you can.”

“But isn’t papermaking something I don’t need to go to?”

Shen Guodong raised an eyebrow and said: “Huang Gan told me—he signed a contract for the paper mill; half remains with us, half was transferred to Chadian Farm by the First Prison, and he’ll handle management.”

“Even if Huang Gan takes care of it, you still need to know who you’re cooperating with!”

Li Xuewu glanced at him. “I’m telling you to make more friends and build connections—not forcing you to go on dates. Are you acting like a shy maiden?”

“So timid!”

Feeling Yushui’s foot misbehave again behind him, Li Xuewu turned and shot her a warning look—not to overdo it.

Yushui acted as if she hadn’t noticed, reclining lazily behind Grandpa, playing hide-and-seek with him.

“First, take a tour and see how their grain crops are doing—whether they can be included in our distribution network.”

Li Xuewu sipped his tea, then added: “They’re trying to brew alcohol, but the quality’s poor. Next year, the steel mill will build a distillery—get a head start.”

“Also, they’re planning furniture production. Secure the timber supply and negotiate the agency distribution rights, then merge them into the steel mill’s joint trade project.”

“Lastly, livestock farming.”

Li Xuewu tapped the table. “Chadian Farm can grow crops—it can raise animals too: pigs, cattle, sheep, horses, donkeys. Find a way to coordinate this. Next year, the steel mill will launch food processing.”

“So it’s about integrating into the supply chain?”

Shen Guodong finally understood, recalling Wu Ge’s earlier lessons on business principles.

The recycling station still doesn’t produce or sell directly—it only acts as a trade bridge between units.

Centered on the steel mill, it connects upstream and downstream production, supplying all units in the trade chain with what they need and guiding their sales directions.

When Chadian Farm wants to expand production, the recycling station provides development direction.

It supplies equipment and raw materials, helping the farm move toward what the recycling station requires.

Products are transferred by the recycling station to the food processing plant; the plant’s output then goes through regional offices to be distributed locally via the recycling station’s network.

“First, find out the situation.”

Li Xuewu didn’t expect him to get everything right at once. “Huang Gan saying it’s good doesn’t mean it is—you have to see it yourself.”

“Wu Ge is teaching you to keep your eyes open.”

Xiao Yan walked over with the teapot to refill Li Xuewu’s cup and reminded Shen Guodong: “We’re family. Once you step out that door, think before you act.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking.”

Shen Guodong sipped tea, set his cup forward to make refilling easier, and said: “Grain, timber, papermaking, livestock—when you talk, you’ve got to hold onto one of their arms.”

“Be flexible, don’t be rigid. You’re there to offer projects—you’re the one with leverage, not the other way around.”

Xiao Yan refilled Grandpa’s and Er Ye’s cups with hot water, then poured tea for him.

“Don’t start with grain. Talk about papermaking and furniture first—draw them in.”

“If you mention papermaking, they’ve got reed beds all along Chadian—you’ve got plenty to discuss. Build the foundation for cooperation first.”

“Then talk about furniture—mention the Third Prison in Xicheng, current sales and distribution channels—they’ll perk right up.”

Xiao Yan kept refilling everyone’s tea, still talking: “They’ve got reed beds—what about their forest farm?”

“Then bring up the Jicheng forestry project and the steel mill’s trade initiative—they’ll have to treat you with respect.”

“There are only a handful of people with the ability to transport timber into Guanli. They’ll know who you represent.”

“They’re attached to their own small distillery—they won’t give it up easily. If you want their grain, you’ve got to offer them something better.”

“Then bring up livestock farming, offer quality breeding stock, guarantee meat purchases—and suddenly you’ve got everything.”

“Hmm~”

Shazhu lay on the kang, watching Shen Guodong being lectured, and smirked: “Why don’t you swap places with Xiao Yan? You stay home, let her handle the outside.”

“Listen to you—everywhere you are.”

Shen Guodong punched him in the back, but didn’t chase him as he dodged; he glanced at Wu Ge across the room, looking slightly embarrassed.

Xiao Yan, however, gave her man face, smiling and echoing Shazhu: “I can advise him, sure—but if I had to go myself, I’d be nervous.”

“I know how to handle it.”

Emboldened by Xiao Yan’s support, Shen Guodong picked up his teacup: “Tomorrow I’ll contact Jicheng first, then check conditions on the frontier, then go to the First Prison to see Huang Gan.”

“Take your time.”

Li Xuewu glanced at Xiao Yan and nodded. “The steel mill’s distillery and food plant won’t be operational until the end of next year—you’ve got time to handle this properly.”

“But the mountain vegetables and livestock—you need to think ahead. Talk to Old Gu Fu, or to Xiao Qin Zhengwei—whomever can help expand the area. It’s making good money now.”

“It’s very profitable.”

Shen Guodong scratched his chin and reported: “We don’t even need to look outside—the steel mill, branch offices, and a few other departments can absorb it all.”

“I ran into Zhao Zhengwei the other day—he mentioned expanding greenhouse cultivation next year and increasing winter vegetable supply.”

“Mm, take care of that.”

Li Xuewu pinched his nose. “I’m going on a business trip to Jinmen tomorrow. When I return, I’ll bring back a batch of vegetables—get in touch ahead of time. I’ll give you the address; arrange for the transport team to pick them up.”

“How much?”

Shen Guodong blinked, confused why Wu Ge suddenly wanted to bring back a batch of vegetables.

Li Xuewu raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know exactly—around fifty tons, all kinds, all greenhouse produce.”

“That’s valuable.”

Shen Guodong’s eyes lit up. “After winter sets in, greenhouse vegetables skyrocket in price—it’s hard to buy even a little.”

“Mm, handle it.”

Li Xuewu said casually: “There’ll be about four shipments, stretching into the new year.”

“This is really…”

Shen Guodong’s astonishment deepened; everyone in the room stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Wu Ge, won’t this cause trouble?”

Others didn’t understand the implications of large-scale winter vegetable supply—but Shen Guodong, who handled this daily, knew perfectly well.

There were a few greenhouse vegetable bases around Jingcheng—all communes grew vegetables.

Even before, they couldn’t meet urban demand—let alone this year.

The Third Regiment’s reclamation area built a huge greenhouse complex; off-season vegetables were first used for the training base’s mess hall, and the rest were supplied by him to unit mess halls.

The steel mill’s mess hall alone was a major buyer—feeding over ten thousand people daily, and no amount was ever enough.

Of course, off-season vegetables were expensive; even procurement couldn’t afford to buy too much at once.

Small mess halls served fresh vegetables to cadres; large mess halls still relied on potatoes and cabbage.

Everything beyond the steel mill and other unit mess halls was supplied through Director Ma to the Supply and Marketing Cooperatives.

Just from greenhouse vegetables alone, within three months, all initial investments had been recouped—every month after that was pure profit.

No wonder the Third Regiment didn’t need reminding—any fool would jump at a money-making opportunity.

After a year of hard work, they now had funding for this year’s and next year’s production.

Qi Yaowu had big ambitions—he planned to build a complete training base on the mountain, capable of housing tanks, artillery, even helicopters.

Right now he commanded one regiment; if things went well, next year he might command a division.

The current situation is unusual—people keep being sent down from above, so someone must fill the gaps below.

Qi Yaowu wouldn’t actively pull anyone down, but with an open position and his own efforts, along with the current achievements of the Third Guard Company, he’d rise in the Garrison District sooner or later.

A single vegetable linked the fates of countless people; anyone connected to this chain dared not neglect their shared interests.

Shen Guodong, representing Li Xuewu, intervened in this relationship under the guise of the recycling station, and he had to be cautious.

Li Xuewu knew exactly how these vegetables had come into his hands—they weren’t from the illegal channels Shen Guodong feared.

But he couldn’t explain too clearly to Shen Guodong, lest he get too carried away.

“No trouble. Just play it safe.”

Li Xuewu sipped his tea and said, “As long as you sell them through existing channels, there won’t be any problems.”

“Mm-hmm, got it.”

Shen Guodong was just like this: cautious, sensible, obedient.

Li Xuewu kept him at the recycling station because he saw that Shen Guodong’s personality wasn’t suited for expanding the market.

“Calculate this round’s profit and use it to repay my summer loan.”

“Mm-hmm, I’ll note it down.”

Shen Guodong knew which debt Li Wu meant: since May, every Saturday, Wu had sold a separate batch of vegetables coming down from the mountain.

Until October, when vegetable supplies stopped entirely, all proceeds from these sales had been recorded as loans.

Due to the special nature of this matter, Wu himself had contacted the accountants directly, and the money had remained on the books ever since.

Though the recycling station’s business belonged to everyone, only Wu himself could greenlight such a long-term loan.

Even his third uncle’s family in Gangcheng couldn’t do it—accounts were accounts, money was money.

They didn’t know what Wu had used the money for, but now, before year-end settlement, he planned to repay it all in full—with surplus—something he hadn’t anticipated.

This money, this ledger, and these vegetables—he’d never imagined they were connected.

Li Xuewu, however, was calculating in his mind: once these two hundred tons of vegetables were sold, this year’s losses—caused by Lou Jie’s trip to Gangcheng, plus the club’s deficits and the Dongfeng Fleet’s recruitment and training costs—would largely be covered.

They hadn’t failed to make money this year; even the club, which was losing money, had generated operating profits.

All Dongfeng Fleet vessels had set sail, transporting goods from Gangcheng to Jinmen—not only handling cargo for Jinmen Port’s docks, but also carrying materials for the Rolling Mill and Ningcheng Shipyard.

Other recycling stations had also invested heavily this year, yet each continued generating returns.

Overall, Jingcheng was the headquarters, where operations were most stable and secure; guarding the Rolling Mill alone brought in substantial profits from trade and distribution.

Add in revenue from other projects, and according to the operational report provided today by Sister Zhao Yafang, this year hadn’t been wasted—but actual cash on hand remained scarce.

Investment in Gangcheng had been enormous; the gold given to Lou Jie was merely hard currency, held in bank vaults for show—the real capital came from goods shipped to Gangcheng and converted into cash.

These two hundred tons of vegetables meant little against so many projects and such massive investments.

Yet they became the final piece Li Xuewu needed to fill this year’s revenue shortfall.

Repaying this debt wasn’t just for the sake of clean financial statements—it was essential for the normal operation of other projects.

Including building the supply chain, continuing investment in the fleet, buying ships, recruiting crew, and funding training.

Er Ye, sensing the gloomy atmosphere in the room, tapped his pipe against his palm and said to Li Xuewu: “We need to stop the antique trade.”

“Huh? What?”

Li Xuewu snapped back to attention, then glanced sharply at Er Ye.

Er Ye tilted his head slightly and explained: “The wind seems to have passed. No one’s coming to sell antiques anymore. Fewer people come to exchange for red books and badges—even ten days might pass without seeing one.”

“Even the street kids are fewer.”

Shen Guodong added: “We haven’t heard of home raids anymore. Word is, people from outside are being sent back to their hometowns.”

“Mm, I know.”

Li Xuewu nodded. “Stop it then. This wave will pass sooner or later.”

Er Ye drew a slow puff of smoke and asked gently: “Should we open a sign and start buying directly?”

“I know your concern.”

He looked at Li Xuewu and nodded. “What I mean is, keep calling it ‘scrap and waste,’ but quietly raise the purchase price—or tighten the exchange standards.”

“What’s your thinking?”

Li Xuewu glanced at him, shifted back, and sat directly on Yu Shui’s foot, letting her kick all she wanted without letting go.

He asked Er Ye what he thought—but really, he wanted to know what Yu Shui thought. What did she want?

When she came into the room after dinner, she’d first climbed onto the kang, squeezed into the corner beside the storage cabinet, and lay down.

Whether it was for warmth or just to lean against something, now that he’d sat here, why had she stretched her foot over?

While he was in meetings talking with everyone, she kept fidgeting.

She ignored his warning—he simply brought down the full weight of Mount Tai. Even Sun Wukong would cry “Master!” before he’d let go.

Er Ye couldn’t see this side—Grandpa’s body blocked the view. He only heard Li Xuewu’s question and replied: “From my personal view, it’s a pity—so many good things.”

“But from our shop’s perspective, from your collection standpoint, I think we should adjust slightly—even picking up one more item counts as treasure.”

“In chaotic times, gold; in prosperous times, collections.”

Er Ye shook his head. “I don’t believe our situation will last forever. Every dynasty has had its golden age.”

“I don’t know how long it’ll take for that golden age to come, but this business of yours won’t lose money.”

“Hmm, that’s hard to say.”

Li Xuewu smiled at Er Ye. “Maybe three or five years—or thirty or fifty. I don’t know when your antique golden age will arrive.”

“Of course, if you like it, if you feel it’s a pity, we can be cautious—don’t raise prices. Just exchange using the shop’s radio, or other items.”

“It won’t lose money.”

Er Ye made a guilty assurance to Li Xuewu—he’d proposed this business idea. If trouble came or money was lost, he’d feel he’d failed Li Xuewu.

Especially those radios or valuable items—why not just sell them outright?

Compared to the old bulk purchases, this would give them real capital.

Seeing his concern, Li Xuewu smiled and comforted him: “You like it, I like it too—otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you to collect these, right?”

“Guodong, tell finance: record this debt separately, under my name.”

Li Xuewu turned to Shen Guodong. From the very start of this antique trade, it had been his personal burden.

Even brothers must keep clear accounts. Antiques can’t be eaten, can’t be sold as goods, and even invite disaster.

He was the one who proposed this—so naturally, he bore the cost.

Of course, if Er Ye’s predicted golden age of collecting ever came, these antiques would be his personal collection, unrelated to the other brothers.

Li Xuewu truly loved them—these artifacts carrying the historical depth, bearing witness to five thousand years of Huaxia civilization, deserved preservation.

In the future, he’d build a grand house and display them all, telling future generations how rich their ancestors’ legacy had been.

And this house would become the cultural symbol of his enterprise—and of himself.

You say you’re a tycoon, a banker, a noble, a prince or princess—none of that matters here!

You have a mansion, a luxury yacht, a private jet—we have a historical museum.

Your mansion, yacht, jet—I can buy with money. But can you buy my historical museum with money?

Li Xuewu imagined: when Li Shu grows up, goes to school or starts working, and hears others speak of ancient bronze ding or white jade plates,

she won’t envy them—she’ll simply say: “We’ve got those at home!”

A whole collection—whatever style you want, whenever you want to see it!

Appreciating antiques requires certain refinement; nobles often used them to display status.

Li Xuewu meant to build a solid reputation—using these objects to suppress future fortune.

Everyone understands gold’s authenticity; jade can be tested with instruments—but antiques demand knowledge and ability.

Their barrier is simply too high—they’re incomparable, unassessable as assets.

No matter how far Li Xuewu goes in life, as long as this museum exists, he’ll have confidence.

Er Ye thought the same—he’d seen too much in his lifetime, witnessed decades of bloom and decay. He didn’t need to bow to gods to guess the future.

Li Xuewu’s influence had lifted his young brothers into this great enterprise—proof of his foresight.

These antiques weren’t trash, nor Li Xuewu’s burden—they’d be immensely useful in the future.

Li Xuewu, touched by Er Ye’s thoughtfulness, refilled his teapot with hot tea.

Yu Shui seized the chance when he lifted his butt to pull her foot free—and still unsatisfied, she kicked him again.

Li Xuewu paid no mind. He said to Er Ye: “When you have time, when it’s convenient, go through all my things and authenticate them one by one—I need to know what I’ve got.”

“I look forward to that day.”

Er Ye smiled, lifting his teacup. “Just for your words, I must live well—live many more years.”

“You’re destined for longevity!”

Li Xuewu smiled and refilled Grandpa’s cup. “Your face says it all—you’re a long-life type. Your eyebrows are so long.”

“I’ve wasted half my life. With you, I’ve finally found fortune. It’s all fate.”

Er Ye, having seen everything, smiled and sighed, then drank his tea.

Grandpa raised his cup slightly, fully understanding Er Ye’s sigh.

A person’s life—what fate holds for them is decided from birth. Struggling won’t change it. Even what’s in your hands now isn’t guaranteed to stay.

Take these antiques: their original owners never imagined they’d suffer such calamity.

Countless artifacts passed down through dynasties had become curses today.

If these things were merely valuable, people wouldn’t grieve so deeply when they took them. But when they smashed or burned them before your eyes—it wasn’t just loss. It was grief, regret, sorrow.

Er Ye remembered how Li Xuewu had taken them in, raised the orphaned and helpless, observed his orderly, rule-abiding conduct, led his young brothers to prosperity without quarrels, kept harmony, and cared for families.

That’s why he spoke of fortune—these antiques carry luck. The unlucky cannot bear them; the lucky gain fortune from them.

“For wooden items, collect them as old furniture.”

Big Aunt added to the two: “Whether you replace with new furniture or buy with money, it’s no concern—I’ll take care of it.”

“No rush, take it slow.”

Li Xuewu smiled in agreement; after Second Master finished speaking, he inquired about the shop’s operations.

Xiao Yan spoke far more concisely than Shen Guodong: first, she reported furniture sales, which had improved significantly compared to before.

With no ticket requirement, trade-ins were allowed, and home delivery service was offered—both highly popular.

Many from Xicheng or Nancheng came specifically because they valued that the furniture here didn’t require furniture tickets.

Though prices were slightly higher, without ticket restrictions, they naturally chose this place with their feet.

She then turned to the shop’s braised goods business: during summer, sales were sluggish, so they made less to avoid spoilage and stockpiling.

After the weather cooled, the situation stabilized, and the braised goods business picked up again.

The used flashlight business, however, was growing worse—perhaps hitting a bottleneck, since households in this era that owned appliances were extremely cautious and wouldn’t waste them.

Even if broken, they repaired them again and again, unwilling to simply sell them for new ones.

The only trade-in service the recycling station could offer was for radios; the radio factory at No. 1 Prison maintained relatively stable output.

With Wen San’er gone, door-to-door repair services were no longer viable; even repaired items had to be sent to No. 1 Prison, earning little profit.

Not only were these businesses struggling, but sales of Red Books and badges were also dwindling.

The kids had passed their impulsive phase; now that the authorities had calmed down, their blind purchasing desire vanished.

Little picture books, however, were selling better than ever—perhaps because cultural reading materials had suddenly dwindled.

Overall, the shop’s operations slowly returned to their former state: some product categories saw increased sales, but the overall trend was a decline.

Xiao Yan was somewhat anxious, but anxiety changed nothing; the earlier success of these products had come from Li Xuewu’s foresight, riding that wave of momentum.

“Don’t worry—when people tire, they know to rest.”

Li Xuewu looked at her and said: “With fewer people, you should reduce the range of products. Use this time to properly organize the shop and clean up the recycling station.”

As he spoke, he turned to the group and asked: “It’ll be another month or so before the New Year—everyone’s worked hard. Let’s have a good one this year!”