The walls of the salt company's residential complex were peeling, stained with age and neglect.
"There's one upside to living somewhere this run-down," Chen Yansen muttered as he glanced up. "No property management fees."
He knew exactly why Old Chen had exploded today.
Half of a lifetime's savings had "disappeared."
Anyone would panic.
"At his age, he still gets flustered so easily," Chen Yansen thought calmly. "He really needs to toughen up."
Humming to himself, he climbed the stairs.
When he reached the fourth floor, his footsteps halted.
The door to his apartment was wide open.
Through the crack, he saw a thick wooden stick clenched tightly in Chen Guobin's hand.
Chen Yansen immediately turned around.
"Get in here!"
Too late.
Chen Guobin rushed out, eyes bloodshot, gripping the stick like his life depended on it. His gaze was filled with anger, disappointment… and unmistakable hurt.
For the past few days, he had truly believed his son had matured.
Who would've thought Chen Yansen had planted such a massive landmine instead?
"Old Chen, calm down," Chen Yansen said quickly, backing toward the stairs. "Let's talk this through."
"The bank card in the photo album," Chen Guobin growled. "Did you take it?"
"Yes," Chen Yansen admitted without hesitation.
Chen Guobin's lips trembled.
"How much is left?"
For a split second, he was terrified the answer would be: nothing.
"Not a single yuan was touched."
Chen Yansen raised both hands, expression serious.
"Hah!" Chen Guobin sneered. "A mouse falling into a granary and not eating a bite? You think I'm stupid?"
"There's an ATM downstairs," Chen Yansen said, calmly handing over the card. "Check it yourself."
"Together."
After a long pause, Chen Guobin exhaled heavily and finally dropped the stick.
Thud.
It hit the floor, rolling beside a burlap sack and a neatly coiled nylon rope.
"…Old Chen," Chen Yansen swallowed. "Before opening the bookstore, you weren't some kind of outlaw, were you?"
"If a single yuan is missing," Chen Guobin snapped, "I'll hang you up and beat you!"
"If Mom were still—"
"If your mother were alive," Chen Guobin cut in coldly, "she'd beat you harder than I would."
The card held 135,800 yuan—eighteen years of savings. Even a resurrected Liang Huizhen wouldn't have stopped him today.
They headed downstairs together, one walking stiffly, the other half-jogging.
At the ATM, Chen Guobin inserted the card.
Balance: 135,800 yuan.
He froze.
This was the one outcome he had never imagined.
"I have another one," Chen Yansen said, casually handing over his own card. "Check that too."
"Yours?" Chen Guobin asked, disbelief flooding his face.
"Yes."
Balance: 180,000 yuan.
Chen Guobin stared at the screen, eyes wide.
"Where did this money come from?"
Chen Yansen crossed his arms, smiling faintly.
"Are you questioning my talent?"
"To me," he said lightly, "making money is as easy as breathing."
Then, in a serious tone:
"Use your savings to buy apartments. Wait for demolition compensation."
"You made 180,000 in one summer?" Chen Guobin asked hoarsely.
"Ten days, actually."
Chen Yansen then explained everything—MP3s, MP4s, margins, turnover—clear and concise.
Only then did Chen Guobin finally understand.
"Next time," he said quietly, "talk to me first."
Chen Yansen agreed verbally—while inwardly sighing.
They walked home in silence.
Neighbors stared in confusion. Minutes ago, father and son were chasing each other with murder in their eyes. Now, they returned side by side like nothing had happened.
Back in the living room, Chen Guobin quietly shoved the stick, rope, and sack under the bed.
Then he placed two EMS envelopes on the coffee table.
"Teacher Zhang delivered these himself. One's yours. One's Zihao's."
Chen Yansen opened his.
Xucheng Academy – Admission Notice (Journalism).
Exactly the same as his previous life.
"If you want to repeat a year," Chen Guobin said after a pause, "I won't object."
"No need," Chen Yansen replied casually. "First-tier or second-tier doesn't matter. The goal is money. Why waste a year?"
Chen Guobin sighed. "Grandpa and Grandma want to see you."
"I'm not going."
No hesitation.
In this world, not all grandparents loved their grandchildren.
"Alright," Chen Guobin said softly. "I understand."
"I'll take Zihao's letter to him," Chen Yansen said, standing up.
"Come back early," Chen Guobin replied absentmindedly.
Outside, Chen Yansen pulled out his phone.
Chen Yansen:Be honest. You got your admission letter ages ago. Where's the white stockings photo you promised?
At the same time, inside Shanfu Department Store…
Meng Jie stood in the lingerie section, nervously browsing.
"Too much lace… too indecent.""Too transparent—might as well wear nothing.""Why does this one have hearts…?"
Her short hair had grown slightly longer. Frameless glasses replaced the old black frames. A faint gloss shimmered on her lips.
Beep—
She checked her phone.
Her heartbeat skipped.
Her cheeks flushed even redder.