‘Cheng Lang, are you hiding something from me?’
Cheng Lang had looked at it for not even two days before he tossed the novel aside. From childhood to now, he’d always felt uncomfortable with walls of dense text. In the end, the novel ended up being read by Feng Man instead, who skimmed through it again.
In her free time, she watched TV dramas and novels, occasionally tending to the stall. By the end of December, Feng Man deposited another three hundred yuan into her passbook. Looking at the balance inside—not a small sum, totaling three thousand nine hundred eighty-eight yuan, with the bulk coming from her stall earnings over the past few months and the whopping 1,500 yuan she’d squeezed out of Feng Jianshe.
As the Gregorian New Year approached its end, Feng Man ran into Chen Fuping and her family of three at the stall, buying milky white fish soup, sesame flatbread, and stir-fried noodles.
As usual, she filled a bucket of fish soup for them to take away, packed ten sesame flatbreads and two jin of stir-fried noodles for neighbors and colleagues, collected the money, and made change. This time, she straightforwardly asked, “Sister Chen, I’ve got a question—can the shops on Commercial Street be sold to private individuals?”
Chen Fuping had gotten somewhat familiar with Feng Man after a few interactions, but she hadn’t expected this stall owner to have such ambitions. “Not renting a storefront?”
“No, I want to buy one outright.” Feng Man calculated her personal income each month after wages and costs—over five hundred yuan—and her savings were substantial. Rather than being at others’ mercy, better to own a shop completely.
It wasn’t hard to inquire about this. Chen Fuping thought for a moment and told her, “The main management rights go to You Jianyuan of Liberation Mine District, but I hear some relatives and friends who took the leadership route might have a shot at buying shops.”
This was insider info, useless without connections. Chen Fuping actually hoped Feng’s would get a storefront—it’d be more convenient for grabbing food later.
Feng Man thanked her and watched the family of three leave laden with goods, but her thoughts drifted far away.
The best would be for her to buy a shop outright—no more being controlled by others. At the same time, thwarting You Jianyuan’s scheme would be the real winning move.
This guy always caused trouble for her and Cheng Lang. Without teaching him a lesson, he’d really think he could reach the heavens.
But the million-word novel had such convoluted plots that a no-class antagonist like You Jianyuan hadn’t left much impression on Feng Man.
She tsked lightly twice and resolved to go home and properly recall the plot. She had to find some leverage on You Jianyuan!
When Cheng Lang returned from the Mine District, he found the big one and the little one both lost in thought at the square table.
Feng Man and Fan You Shan sat facing each other. A notebook lay before Feng Man; she propped her chin on one hand, staring blankly. Her clear, bright almond eyes shifted slightly with dark thoughts, as if pondering something. The pen between her fingers spun back and forth—she clearly couldn’t put it to paper.
Across from her, Fan You Shan’s little face scrunched up. One moment he chewed the pencil tip, the next he sighed in frustration. In the end, he had no idea if what he wrote on his homework was right.
“You two are worrying in sync?” Cheng Lang knew his nephew’s level—he’d perfectly inherited the Cheng family genes and was terrible at studying.
But he’d never seen Feng Man so troubled.
“You’re back~” Feng Man tossed the pen onto the notebook, temporarily giving up on her thinking. She really couldn’t recall You Jianyuan’s specific plot points in the book, so she let herself off the hook. “I was trying to recite some poetry or something, but couldn’t think of any right away.”
“What poetry?” This was one of Cheng Lang’s weak points too.
Feng Man couldn’t casually reveal her transmigration, so she brushed it off. “The kind of poetry for writing love poems to you.”
The man froze for a moment, as if the air stilled. He turned his gaze to the wooden grain on the table. “No need for that.”
Feng Man nodded and seized the chance to back off. “I think it’s too much trouble too. Forget it.”
Cheng Lang: “…”
Fan You Shan, who was at the table rushing through homework to prep for finals, got excited. “Uncle, if Auntie won’t, I will! We learned poems…”
Cheng Lang ruffled his nephew’s hair. “Do your homework. If you bomb the finals, your parents will deal with you.”
One sentence turned Fan You Shan’s little face into a bitter gourd.
After all, his parents’ and grandparents’ generation had suffered from lack of education. Fan Zhenghua and Dong Xiaojuan naturally had high hopes for their kid—they just wanted him to study well, learn more, and not suffer like his folks.
“Uncle, Auntie, if I bomb the finals, you have to save me! Our bond gets tested next week!” Fan You Shan struck a pose like he was heading to battle.
Feng Man laughed at Xiaoshan and patted Cheng Lang’s solid chest in promise. “Don’t worry, we’ll definitely save you!”
Fan You Shan’s finals were the next day—four subjects over two days, with two days for grading after. Those two days became utter madness.
Kids on winter break frolicked wildly, worrying Dong Xiaojuan sick. She’d already laid down the law: “If you bomb it, I’ll sort you out!”
Fan You Shan just played, but he shot back, “Mom, even if I do badly, it’s not my fault. Grandma says Dad was bad at school too, and Uncle was! They both loved skipping class. I’m already better than them—I don’t skip!”
Fan Zhenghua and Cheng Lang off to the side: “…”
Cheng Yulan really couldn’t do anything with her grandson. Back then, she could’ve disciplined her own son for skipping with a stick, but a generation gap made it hard to go tough—she always spoiled him. She laughed right away. “Your silver tongue’s better than your dad and uncle’s, at least.”
Fan You Shan suddenly puffed up proudly. “Of course!”
Cheng Lang was glad Feng Man hadn’t heard that—she’d been at the stall today.
Cheng Lang had come back from the Mine District at noon, grabbed his flask, hit the street liquor shop for half a jin of Special Brew Liquor, and headed to the Liberation Mine District single dorms.
Coming back after months, Liberation Mine District seemed unchanged everywhere. Countless miners knew him and greeted him—they all knew Cheng Lang must be visiting his master.
Chen Xingyao was a founding figure of the Mine District. Leadership had specially approved him a larger dorm. At around fifty and still unmarried, living alone suited him.
When Cheng Lang arrived, Chen Xingyao stared wide-eyed at the recent survey report for Red Mountain mining. His nose reacted first—the liquor scent drilled straight in.
“You brat, you’re sharp—got me two liang.” Chen Xingyao set the report down and drank with Cheng Lang first.
Master and disciple drank, grabbed some peanuts on the side—fragrant as could be! Chen Xingyao asked about the incident half a year back. “Heard You Jianyuan stole your team’s credit and went to the province for awards himself.”
Chen Xingyao had heard from other miners a few days after returning. He’d been reassigned to national oil field surveys in deep mountains with no outside info. Before leaving, Cheng Lang was set to lead the mountain survey—they’d had some leads. Who’d have thought You Jianyuan snatched the peaches in the end.
Mentioning the scheme against him, Cheng Lang showed no emotion on his face, just calmly told his master, “It happened.”
“You didn’t fight him? Just let him steal it?”
“What background does he have? How could I fight bare-handed?” Cheng Lang was clear-headed.
Chen Xingyao nodded. After all, he’d eaten salt for over fifty years and walked life’s roads for five decades—what dirty dealings hadn’t he seen? His disciple had matured, knowing to bide his time.
“You’re starting to look the part now—no more old impulsiveness.” Chen Xingyao felt deep for the Mine District he’d founded with old comrades—it was like a rootless leaf’s home. But watching its current cracks, like a flawed eggshell seeming intact but full of holes, wore him out.
Cheng Lang smiled. “Master, don’t worry about it. My business with You Jianyuan, I’ll handle myself.”
“You brat think I’d bother? Person’s gone, why would I care!”
Cheng Lang stayed in Chen Xingyao’s dorm half an hour. Soon after he left, Chen Xingyao glanced at the Red Mountain report again, clutched it, and headed out.
Mine Chief Tong of Liberation Mine District was ill, bedridden in hospital, managing little directly. Chen Xingyao didn’t see him and went to Deputy Mine Chief You Changgui, who held more real power.
Sure enough, enemies on a narrow road—You Jianyuan was in his second uncle’s office. Seeing the Mine District’s most respected master craftsman Chen Xingyao appear, he felt displeased inside but put on a friendly face. “Master Chen’s back. That assignment must’ve been tough.”
Chen Xingyao knew a year ago, when Mine Chief Tong fell ill and wanted to hand real power to You Changgui, the latter saw him as an eyesore, worried he’d resist, so they jointly reported to reassign him.
Now calling him back a month early might be some scheme, but the Mine District was always first in Chen Xingyao’s heart. Grudges could wait.
“This old bag of bones can still hold up. You Jianyuan, on the other hand—heard you’ve been busy this year, hopping around stealing credit, flashing at the province, even inviting District Committee leaders for inspections lately… Zoo monkeys aren’t as active. If anyone’s tired, it’s you first.”
“You—” You Jianyuan knew Chen Xingyao’s odd temperament. Other veteran miners with rank knew to save face, puff each other up for harmony. But not Chen Xingyao—he said whatever.
“Hey, Jianyuan, mind how you talk to Master Chen—no manners.” You Changgui knew Chen Xingyao’s weight in the Mine District, respected everywhere. Couldn’t offend outright. “Master Chen, how’re you settling after the journey? If you want more rest days, just say. If you wanna work, your spot’s always yours.”
Chen Xingyao knew You Changgui was trickier than You Jianyuan—at least his face work was flawless. No point in small talk. He slapped the Red Mountain report on the desk and cut straight. “Red Mountain mining’s got issues. These reports are too superficial—needs re-evaluation.”
You Jianyuan panicked at once. Red Mountain was key to proving his ability, core to another provincial award on his merits. How dare someone question!
“Master Chen, you’re getting old, must be muddled. Reports say high chance of minerals below Red Mountain—why not mine?”
“The metrics are too surface-level…” Chen Xingyao could guess You Jianyuan’s rush for quick gains and called it out. “You really think this mining’ll win you face? Dream on! Don’t drag the Mine District into a huge loss and workers’ blood and sweat!”
“Master Chen, what do you mean? I’ve given my all to the Mine District, and you’ve got no proof but spout nonsense!” You Jianyuan had just lost face to Cheng Lang recently, sour mood. Seeing Cheng Lang’s master irked him more. “Red Mountain’s my full responsibility—no need for your meddling!”
The two were on the verge of swords clashing. Chen Xingyao just thought it nonsense. “Invest all that money, workers toiling day and night, and dig out a ‘dead mountain’—everything down the drain. You take responsibility?”