Ms. Yan?
Yan Qingqing of Glory Group?
There were rumors online that this woman was the legal representative of the company. At first, one imagined her as a middle-aged matron, but to everyone's surprise, she was—if anything—an exquisite beauty, easily scoring over ninety points on any scale, a complete contrast to Wen Nuan, yet equally matched in allure.
As he left the company, Han Qian received a message confirming his acceptance, informing him that he could start work on Monday, the day after tomorrow, and that all formalities could be handled at the reception. Yet, Han Qian felt like a lamb walking into the tiger's den. He could not refuse—joining Glory Group was the first and most crucial step in his plan.
Only here could he find the opportunity to showcase his talents.
He took out his phone and called his mother, inquiring about the crops, whether his father had gone gambling again, and if the money he had sent had arrived. On the other end, his mother nodded repeatedly, her face filled with relief.
His mother and mother-in-law were polar opposites—his mother gentle and soft-spoken, never raising her voice; his mother-in-law, however, could not speak quietly to save her life.
"Qian, your salary isn't much, so keep some for yourself. Though Nuan's family is well-off, we cannot rely on them to support us. I don't spend much at home, so I'm saving all the money for you."
Han Qian sat on the curb, gnawing on a piece of bread to stave off hunger, smiling warmly.
"Mom, don't worry about me. Today I dined with clients—a feast of over a dozen dishes. You must take care of your health; you can't afford to lack nutrition. Nowadays, getting hospitalized from malnutrition would be an embarrassment for a son. Tell Dad to buy some ribs later."
"Alright, alright, go on with your business."
Mindful of the phone bill, Qian's mother hesitated but finally hung up. She still had no idea how much her hospital stay had cost. Dad said it was only thirty thousand yuan, which infuriated her so much she nearly ended up back in the hospital.
After ending the call, Han Qian took a deep breath and resolved several things in his heart:
Within one year, repay Wen Nuan.
Next year, earn enough to enroll his parents in pension and health insurance, and renovate the family home.
Once he had sufficient funds, buy his father a car—winters were too harsh without one.
After all that was settled, get himself a modest used car, maybe a secondhand Xiaoli, costing around ten thousand yuan.
Finally, Han Qian thought of himself—but romance was no longer on his mind.
The three years living with Wen Nuan had shattered all his romantic illusions about women… Why, he wondered, was the room of a solitary woman always so disorderly?
Thinking of Wen Nuan, Han Qian called Li Jinhe, asking when the old couple would return. The call connected.
"Hello? Han Qian, your mother's… swimming. We're in Sanya."
Amid the clatter of a mahjong machine in the background, Han Qian felt his blood pressure rise. Travel, his foot! The old couple simply did not want Wen Nuan to return and disturb their private world. Yet they dared not send her back outright—they had to save face for both Wen Nuan's mother and her daughter.
After all, the divorce had been Han Qian's suggestion.
The thought of Wen Nuan cast a deeper shadow over Han Qian's life. Who would have thought the vice president at Changxiang Corporation, rumored to be a germophobe, lived at home no better than a swine?
This young lady taught Han Qian what it truly meant to have "ten fingers never touching water."
Too many tears to recount—buying new bedding and fresh toiletries.
And groceries!
In a luxurious villa, Li Jinhe rose from the mahjong table, intent on reprimanding Wen Nuan for letting slip some inconvenient truths. Dressed casually, Wen Nuan frowned, her face heavy with grievance as she gazed at the wife who had oppressed her for years. Sighing, she said:
"Wife, do you really think this is right? Won't it make Han Qian believe our precious daughter is… unusual?"
Li Jinhe peeled an orange and handed it to Wen Nuan, frowning.
"There are many twisted matters between those two kids, and I've gotten to the bottom of most of them. That ungrateful little witch even called us—said she'd come home? She's long grown used to being served by Han Qian. You needn't worry. Han Qian's character is clear after three years. I'll let you in on a secret: Han Qian smokes, but for three years, he hasn't lit a single cigarette because of that little ungrateful brat. You think she'll cause any trouble?"
Wen Nuan stopped eating the orange, tilting her head back with a frown.
"So Han Qian smoking is a virtue, but when I smoke, it's a mortal sin? Li Jinhe, you've gone too far."
"Far or not, we're divorced. Today I'm in a good mood, so I'll allow you to smoke two cigarettes."
Wen Nuan, like a royal decree received, jumped up and hurried to the balcony to puff away with her friends.
Actually, Li Jinhe had called Wen Nuan, promising that if she admitted her mistakes, she could have the house keys and return home. But the little ungrateful brat hung up without a word—clearly she had powerful backing.
So what was there to worry about?
Li Jinhe returned to the mahjong table. Meanwhile, Han Qian wandered the supermarket aisles, contemplating what to cook for dinner.
Celery fried with vermicelli? Wen Nuan disliked celery.
Moo shu pork? She hated carrots.
The more he pondered, the darker his expression grew. Wen Nuan was an incredibly picky eater—no garlic sprouts, chives, scallions, cilantro, green peppers, carrots, or celery.
Her one passion? Crab.
Sadly, Han Qian disliked seafood—not because he hated the taste, but because as a child he had never eaten crab and didn't know what was edible or not. As an adult, his interest waned further, and he couldn't bear to cook seafood alive.
Ultimately, Han Qian bought a segment of large intestine, some green beans, mushrooms, eggs, and tomatoes. He also picked up some snacks—habits are a formidable thing—and wasn't sure why he bought yogurt and potato chips. The landlord's sister, working at the supermarket, gave him a flirtatious look and asked if his girlfriend was moving in.
Han Qian gave a bitter smile and shook his head.
"A debt collector came. Sister, whenever you have time, bring your kids over for dinner. I cook well."
She teased back.
"Just bring your own bowls and chopsticks."
"I'll go buy some bowls."
Han Qian smiled and bid farewell to the landlord's sister. Being kind to others never harmed anyone. Like moving house, he carried everything upstairs. After spreading bedding on the tatami in the spare room, he planned to rest briefly—but soon fell asleep.
When he awoke, night had fallen. Checking his antique Nokia 110, it was half past seven.
Han Qian went downstairs to find Wen Nuan already home. She had bought herself a yellow cartoon bear pajama set and sat on the sofa clutching a bag of potato chips, watching TV. Spotting Han Qian at the staircase, she dropped the chips and called out.
"Han Qian, I'm hungry."
Han Qian took a deep breath and spoke softly.
"Are you planning to stay long-term?"
Wen Nuan nodded emphatically.
"I can pay for food and rent, Han Qian! I've been abandoned; I called my mom but she won't answer, and she even sent me angry texts."
"Can I see the texts?"
"I deleted them! I deleted them! Are you trying to snoop through my phone? I'll show you, I'll show you."
Han Qian went to the bathroom while Wen Nuan clenched her fists and cheered quietly.
Lin Zongzong had officially entered the blacklist.
No reason—Wen Nuan just didn't want that guy to bother her anymore. He preferred foreign women; even his own sister wasn't on his good side.