Chapter Twenty-Two: Pursuit

PS: I finally made it in time. Please give me your recommendations, clicks, and favorites—it’s time to rush the rankings. I hope you can help me climb onto the new book list in my category. Thank you.

“So how much can we earn after selling all those watermelons?” Zhang Ye waved his hand to stop Liu Wentao from answering and continued, “We’re selling the watermelons at ten cents a pound, but we only make three cents profit per pound. Subtract over a thousand in transportation costs, three hundred for warehouse rent at ten yuan a day, four thousand for the store rent, and labor costs—five hundred for each of us three. Add in all the other miscellaneous expenses, and our profit shrinks even further.”

“That’s why we must raise the price now.” In the end, Zhang Ye concluded.

Zhang Ye had long ago planned for a price increase. Now, with a vast quantity of watermelons in his hands, he had essentially monopolized the entire watermelon market in Lihua County. The price was his to decide.

“So… how much should we raise it?” Zhao Haidong’s eyes lit up at his words, and he was convinced. They were all smart men, and they understood the principle that rarity increases value. This was the perfect opportunity for them.

“Today, we’ll set the standard price at twenty cents. Then, starting tomorrow, raise it to forty cents and keep it stable for three days. After three days, Tao, it’ll be your turn again—have those street guys help spread the word that watermelons are running out, to stimulate those who might be scared off by the price. I believe sales will go up even more. As for the price, set it at fifty cents. By then, our watermelons should be nearly sold out. And even if they aren’t, it doesn’t matter—we’ll have made our profit. Don’t you agree?”

Zhang Ye had a clear plan for the fruit shop’s development. Laying everything out now was also to broaden Liu Wentao and Zhao Haidong’s horizons, so they wouldn’t be distracted by small gains.

“Can we really do that?” Liu Wentao asked, a little uncertain.

Zhang Ye nodded firmly. “Yes, we can.”

“Zhang Ye, you’re amazing! How did I never realize you were this capable?” Zhao Haidong said, utterly stunned. He looked Zhang Ye up and down as if he were a mythical creature sprung from a stone—utterly fascinated.

“All right, that's all for now. Get ready—there’ll probably be a constant stream of customers coming for watermelons soon, so you’ll have your hands full. By the way, we’re running low on watermelons here, so while it’s still not too busy, send someone to fetch more,” Zhang Ye said, nodding as he assigned tasks.

“We? What about you?” Liu Wentao agreed quickly, then paused and asked.

“I have something to take care of. I probably won’t be around these next few days. You two keep an eye on things. If you can’t handle it, invite a few friends to help—we’ll pay them,” Zhang Ye said as he walked out of the fruit shop and left.

Liu Wentao and Zhao Haidong exchanged a silent glance.

…

After leaving the fruit shop, Zhang Ye didn’t go home. Instead, he walked the streets, following at a distance the beautiful figure ahead.

Now that he knew Gao Ming was planning to make a move against Wang Mengzi in the coming days, Zhang Ye couldn’t just sit by and let it happen. He couldn’t follow Wang Mengzi openly, so this was the only way he could think of—tailing her.

At this hour, Wang Mengzi was clearly headed to work. Watching her ascend the office building’s stairs, Zhang Ye frowned and, after a moment’s thought, entered a nearby shop and bought himself a hat.

He then found a café with a good view—a window seat facing the entrance to Wang Mengzi’s newspaper office. Anyone coming or going could be seen at a glance. Zhang Ye ordered a coffee and took out a magazine to disguise himself, settling in to wait.

After a rather dull hour, sure enough, Wang Mengzi came downstairs. Trailing her was a tall, thin young man—Gao Ming.

“They’re here.” Zhang Ye perked up, downed his now-cold coffee in a single gulp, put down the magazine, and followed.

Yesterday, he’d heard that Wang Mengzi and Gao Ming were currently working together on a feature story about the life of a centenarian. The interview wasn’t finished, so they’d be heading out again. Zhang Ye didn’t know the address of the elderly interviewee, so he had to wait and follow.

“They’re heading toward Old Street?” Zhang Ye thought to himself.

Old Street was true to its name—its houses were extremely old, almost none of them made with modern bricks. They were all built with wooden planks and lime plaster, almost like wooden huts. After years of wind and rain, the houses had all taken on a dark purple hue, giving off a sense of decay.

The old house Zhao Haidong had used for storing watermelons earlier was also in this area.

Old Street was like an unusual little town, offering every kind of business and trade. Perhaps because of its antiquated charm, some people came here just to hunt for treasures. Handmade embroidery, woven baskets, bone hairpins—these were all hard to find elsewhere.

And with the recent craze for antiques, many families here had also started selling their old trinkets. Most weren’t worth much, but now and then, someone would stumble upon a real find.

Carefully avoiding Wang Mengzi’s instinctive glances back, Zhang Ye followed them to an old house facing the street.

The threshold here was so high that even four- or five-year-old children would have trouble climbing over it. After watching them go in, Zhang Ye looked up at the house number, then wandered around nearby.

It was rather awkward, trailing behind them like this—he felt a bit like a fool. But he couldn’t afford not to. If Wang Yi had an accident because of his negligence, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

Just as boredom was setting in, Zhang Ye caught sight of a slender figure in the distance, and his heart skipped a beat.

It was her.

Some memories are engraved so deeply that they never fade.

In his previous life, if guilt for his parents weighed heaviest on his conscience, the person he worried about most was this very figure.

Li Qianqian.

A girl with a gentle appearance and a resolute heart.

In his previous life, Zhang Ye’s face was scarred. Not only did he fail to attract women, but even walking alongside him scared most girls away. Only she—always and only she—never minded his scars. Her understanding nature meant she never looked at him with even a hint of strangeness. Whenever he was in pain, she would silently watch over him, like the warm sun in spring melting the ice in his heart.

She was gentle as water, and she left a mark on Zhang Ye’s memory that time could never erase.

She was his classmate, and went on to attend the same university as him. Zhang Ye didn’t know if she chose that school because of him, but he remembered that she had once asked about his preferences.

In his previous life, neither Guan Haiyang’s money nor his fancy car swayed her. Instead, she resolutely confessed to Zhang Ye and stood by him even at his lowest. In an era when most girls’ values were already corrupted, she shone like a star—something that moved Zhang Ye deeply.

In his previous life, Zhang Ye failed to bring her happiness. This time, he’d take the initiative.