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In Apartment 1201, as soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Shi Ying reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the photos Cheng Simin and Xiaobao had taken earlier that afternoon.
He remembered how these photo booths were all the rage in Banshan when he was in elementary school. Back then, the machines had lower resolution and tackier filters. The printed photos came with adhesive backs, and older students obsessed over taking selfies—pouting, sticking out their tongues, or making exaggerated faces—and sticking them on personal belongings to show off their individuality.
But with the rise of digital cameras and smartphones, selfie-taking became effortless and ubiquitous after they graduated from elementary school. Overnight, these clunky, pay-per-use photo booths disappeared from Banshan entirely.
Who would’ve thought they’d make a comeback as “life’s four-panel snapshots,” repackaged at even higher prices and strategically placed in street corners to sell the “ritual” of capturing precious moments to a new generation of teenagers?
Shi Ying glanced at the photos. Cheng Simin and her sister truly had a knack for being silly—their faces in each frame were unique, never repeating the same expression. They were a pair of treasures.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Finally, in the last four-panel set, he found the only photo of him and Cheng Simin together.
This one happened by chance. When Xiaobao suddenly said she was thirsty, Shi Ying took advantage of fetching her water to squeeze into the pink curtain, blocking the younger girl from view, and photobombed Cheng Simin mid-peace sign pose.
Though it was a candid shot, the result wasn’t bad. Cheng Simin looked startled as she turned toward the camera, but Shi Ying beside her was smiling brightly.
It was a souvenir of their first date.
Carefully cutting out the photo with scissors, he magnetically attached it to the center of the fridge door. He left the remaining photos on the kitchen island, stripped off his clothes, and headed to the shower, planning to send Cheng Simin a message along the way.
“The photo booth pics are still in my pocket. Should I bring them over later?”
The chat window remained silent—Cheng Simin was likely busy helping Xiaobao catch up on the English lesson she missed that afternoon.
Shi Ying could’ve helped too; elementary English wasn’t beyond him. But considering that Xiaobao probably wouldn’t want to listen to his British-accented pronunciation, he decided against it.
Sorting his laundry by color and fabric type, he tossed a load into the washing machine before stepping into the bathroom. He turned his phone volume to maximum and placed it prominently on the sink counter.
Just as he finished rinsing off shampoo and soap suds, WeChat pinged. Without drying off, he stretched an arm out to grab the phone.
Dripping wet, he unlocked the screen, water droplets from his lashes splashing onto the display like tiny raindrops. To his surprise, the message wasn’t from Cheng Simin but from Zhou Rong, the manager of Xicheng Demei Homestay.
She sent a voice message asking, “Xiao Shi, have you seen Manager Qian’s proposal yet? What do you think?”
Through the water stains distorting the text, Zhou Rong’s avatar shimmered eerily with a holographic glow.
Shi Ying hesitated, unsure how to respond. Sensing his dilemma, Zhou Rong cut straight to the chase.
“I understand you might have your own considerations. Why don’t we arrange a meeting so all parties can sit down and discuss specifics? If it’s about pricing, there’s still room for negotiation.”
“But you know, Boss Qian from Cultural Town has been planning the acquisition of Chixia Winery for quite some time now. He’s practically secured everything except the shares you hold. Your stake is just the cherry on top.”
“In business, maximizing profits is key. Don’t you agree?”
“Rest assured, transferring Chixia Winery’s legal ownership won’t affect our cooperation. Both Boss Qian and I value talent. We’ve noticed your achievements at the winery recently. Someone as capable as you will be highly valued moving forward. You’ll continue overseeing operations.”
Transcribing Zhou Rong’s voice messages into text, Shi Ying read them several times, mulling over his response. Typing a few words, deleting them, retyping—time seemed to slip away unnoticed.
His back dried completely, leaving him slightly chilled. Realizing fifteen minutes had passed, he pursed his lips and replied tersely, “Thank you for your efforts, Manager Zhou. Please let me know a convenient time. I’d like to discuss the valuation of my shares directly with Boss Qian.”
Manager Qian’s recent offer of 1.2 million yuan was still too low. By mid-month, results from several competition entries would come out. If any of their natural wines won awards, Chixia Winery’s valuation could easily double—or more.
No matter what, Shi Ying needed to stall negotiations until then. As for Zhou Rong’s claims, he took them with a grain of salt. He wasn’t naive.
Under China’s Civil Code, creditor rights transfers required notification to debtors; otherwise, such transfers held no legal effect against the debtor. Even if Boss Qian had privately negotiated agreements with Zhao Fugui’s creditors, Zhao hadn’t received formal notice yet. Therefore, Shi Ying’s shares remained critical to thwarting their hostile takeover plans.
In his mind, 3 million yuan was the starting point. With guts and skillful negotiation, 4 million wasn’t out of reach.
Two months. Abandon ten tons of unsellable wine, invest 80,000 yuan in savings, and walk away with a net profit of 3.92 million. This wasn’t just his first pot of gold—it was also his chance to redeem Li Xiangqun’s villa, finally put his education to use, and prove his worth.
Everyone looks out for themselves. How could he say no to such an opportunity?
________________________________________
Meanwhile, inside Chixia Winery, Zhao Fugui sighed heavily while staring at his fermentation tanks. He had no idea that his life’s work was already being carved up by various forces like a pig tied to a butcher’s block. His troubles stemmed from elsewhere.
Since accidentally walking in on Zhou Yan crying alone in the restaurant late one night, Zhao had grown closer to her. Over the past few days, their conversations on WeChat had been lively.
Beyond morning and evening greetings and small red packets meant to charm, Zhao often shared snippets of his daily routine at the winery. Zhou didn’t find him annoying; during breaks between orders, she occasionally vented about eccentric clients or shared amusing encounters on the road.
Back and forth, Zhao grew increasingly excited. His desire to rebuild a family with her reached its peak.
Loneliness had gnawed at him for years, leaving him desperate to share his thoughts. Before Shi Ying joined the winery, sometimes even pigeons cooing outside his window could prompt him to scatter millet and chat with them.
And Zhou Yan responded to every message, attending to every detail.
On Wednesday night, during a late-night phone call, Zhao casually mentioned how busy he was at the winery, barely having time to shop. His three remaining pairs of socks were mismatched, and one had a gaping hole that pinched his toenails whenever he walked.
By Friday afternoon, a courier notification arrived—Zhou Yan had bought him socks and thermal underwear online. The socks were bright red, just as he liked, and the sizes fit perfectly. Clearly, Zhou was thoughtful—a woman who knew how to care.
Zhao was pleased with Zhou Yan but wondered if she saw him as potential marriage material. Time was running short for him to guess her intentions. Idle flirting via text wouldn’t suffice; deeper conversations required face-to-face interaction.
Thus, today at noon, Zhao managed to invite Zhou Yan to the winery, hoping to cook her a meal and discuss their relationship. He planned to learn where she was from, whether she had prior marriages, and her thoughts on children and health issues.
But noon came and went without her arrival. It turned out Zhou Yan had been taken to the police station.
Zhao didn’t fault Zhou Yan for standing up against injustice. On the contrary, he admired her fiery spirit. However, when she emerged from the station that afternoon, something changed.
She stopped talking, her eyes lost their sparkle. In the car, heading to the train station to search for Xiaobao, she sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the window.
When Shi Ying called to inform him that Cheng Simin’s sister had been found, Zhou Yan immediately demanded to get out of the car.
Zhao pleaded, reminding her of their plan to eat together. She refused outright, directing him to a noodle shop instead. Less than five minutes later, she returned the fine and compensation fees Zhao had paid on her behalf through WeChat.
Stunned, Zhao drove back to the winery feeling utterly confused. Why had Zhou Yan, who had been so warm on WeChat, suddenly turned cold?
After rummaging through bottles of sparkling wine and seeing workers leave, he brought leftover dishes to his room, drowning his sorrows in alcohol. Half a bottle of red wine later, he angrily messaged Zhou Yan, accusing her of playing with his feelings.
When Zhou Yan ignored his texts, he followed up with voice messages demanding she return all the red packets he’d sent her.
“If you look down on me, why didn’t you say so sooner? What about me isn’t good enough? Sure, I look older, but I’m not even fifty yet! There’s not much age difference between us! Stop messing around!”
Zhao shouted into his phone. Downstairs, at the winery gate, his voice blared again from Zhou Yan’s phone speaker.
Instantly sober, he rushed to the window, shocked to see Zhou Yan parking her small truck under the setting sun.
Ten minutes later, Zhao awkwardly led Zhou Yan to the office sofa.
Instead of reacting angrily to his messages, Zhou Yan calmly calculated a sum and sent it to Zhao’s phone.
“Brother Zhao, check this amount—is it correct?”
Zhao didn’t accept it. Stiffly sitting across from her, he busied himself preparing tea, avoiding eye contact. “Yan Zi, that’s not what I meant. You bought me things too—I shouldn’t have said those things. My mouth got ahead of me. Can you forgive me? I just want to be serious with you. Seeing how distant you were at lunch made me think you wanted to break things off.”
Zhou Yan understood his misunderstanding. Rather than let Zhao discover her shameful secret, she preferred him to believe she rejected him.
But half an hour ago, encountering Cheng Jiabao at Huanghe Garden shattered her fragile hope. Cheng Simin reconnecting with Chen Xiaofen meant her darkest secret would soon come to light. After twenty-six years, the time bomb she planted was finally detonating.
She could run again, as she had countless times before. But after two decades of fleeing, she was exhausted. Deep down, perhaps she longed for this reckoning—for judgment day.
With nowhere left to escape, dying quickly seemed preferable.
So she drove aimlessly around the streets, scrolling through Zhao’s messages, deciding to confront him at the winery.
“It’s not that I want to break up with you. It’s that we’re impossible. You don’t know who I really am.”
“How wouldn’t I know who you are? Just coming here to talk things through proves you’re a good person.”
As the teapot boiled, Zhao pressed the switch and began rinsing the tea leaves.
Zhou Yan’s face contorted into a grotesque grin.
“I’m not a good person. I’m the worst woman alive.”
“Heh, why?” Zhao chuckled, thinking she was joking, pouring rinse water over the tea pet.
“Because twenty-six years ago, I abandoned a child.”
The tea pet sizzled from the heat. Zhao froze, thinking he misheard. Looking up, he asked, “You had a child? So what? I figured as much. At our age, not having kids is unusual.”
“Was it a son or daughter? How’s your relationship with them? Honestly, I don’t plan to have more kids. I’ll focus on the winery. If your child turns out well, after marriage, I can treat them like extended family. But treating them as my own isn’t possible—I’m stingy with money. Hope you understand.”
Zhao poured his heart out, oblivious to the storm brewing across from him. Suddenly, Zhou Yan shrieked like a possessed ghost.
“Zhao Fugui, listen clearly! I abandoned a child twenty-six years ago!”
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