Chapter 17: Ill Intent

After eating and drinking their fill, the business discussion was nearly settled.

Li Luo arranged a time for everyone to check the goods the next day. Then she went to the soap factory, insisting on leaving a deposit and reserving all the stock.

The manager was startled and incredulous. “Reserve all the stock? How much deposit can you put down?”

“One hundred yuan,” she said. That was the money she’d collected from the morning buyers.

“That’s thousands worth of goods, and you’re only paying a hundred?” The manager, sensing profit, tried to play hardball.

Li Luo instantly understood but wouldn’t let him take advantage. “Then I’ll leave.”

The manager choked. “…One hundred is too little.”

Li Luo reminded him that before she showed up, all that stock had been sitting in the warehouse, unsellable. She frowned. “Seems you’re not in a hurry. If you’re not, neither am I.” She turned to leave.

The manager quickly backpedaled. “Let’s talk this over.”

Li Luo eased her tone and laid out her plan. “From now on, tricycles will come to pick up goods. I’ll contact you ahead of time and you’ll write a receipt—for example, now, you write me one for five boxes. When the delivery man comes, you see the receipt and let him load up.”

“That works.”

Her tone grew firmer. “The rest of the money will be settled as I receive payments. Remember, after selling just two boxes I immediately sent you money. That should show you I don’t take advantage of people. But what I fear most is you going back on your word. So take this hundred as a deposit, and give me a written receipt.”

The manager, realizing she was sharp and methodical, decided against trying to fool her and treated her more seriously.

He issued her an invoice with a red official stamp and a signed dispatch note.

Seeing the seals, Li Luo finally felt secure. She left the soap factory to arrange delivery.

After striking a deal with the scrap collector uncle, she passed by the grain station on her way home and weighed herself. From 170 pounds she was now 167—only three pounds down. The lower it went, the harder it seemed to lose.

Her goal had been 150 pounds by June, but now it looked tough. Still, her skin had tightened and firmed noticeably.

After wandering a bit, she returned to the Qin household.

At the gate, people were setting up stoves and pots.

Old Madam Qin sat at the doorway with neighbors, chatting and prepping vegetables. Beside her stood Qin Xinyi, snacking while others worked.

Qin Xinyi was the first to spot her. “Where have you been again? Our family’s been busy all day, Grandma’s over sixty and still has to do housework, and you won’t help! Always going on about losing weight—you’re still fat, just lazy!”

Same insults as the other day.

Fat pig!

Li Luo shot back, “Anyone can flap their lips.”

The meaning was clear: instead of criticizing, why not lend a hand?

She walked past without another word.

Qin Xinyi stamped her foot. “Grandma, look at her!”

Old Madam Qin doted on her granddaughter, but Li Luo wasn’t wrong. She couldn’t be unreasonable. “Enough, just bring me those vegetables over there.”

Qin Xinyi refused to move. “Isn’t there someone else here? As the daughter-in-law, this is her job.”

Li Luo, having put away the deposit slip, overheard this as she stepped out. She thought to herself: When you get married, no matter how far, I’ll make sure to deliver that very sentence to your mother-in-law, written on a banner.

But she said nothing, just silently found work to do.

The neighbors praised her fairness.

Old Madam Qin smiled. “Her parents aren’t dark-skinned, how could she be? She was just fat before.”

Qin Xinyi muttered, “Still fat now. Like a pig.”

“That’s enough,” the old lady said.

Qin Xinyi wanted to add more, but at that moment Liu Qian arrived.

Qin Xinyi hurried to greet her. “Sister Qianqian, come in, sit!”

“Thanks.” Liu Qian sat and said to Li Luo, “Luoluo, haven’t seen you in days—what’ve you been busy with?”

“Busy trying to lose weight. At 170–180 pounds, how could she slim down?” Qin Xinyi sneered, smacking her lips.

Li Luo was about to correct her—it was 167 now—when a clear voice came from behind.

“Little Uncle says to pick him up tomorrow at nine.”

She knew it was Qin Jun without turning. She only gave a faint “Mm.”

She had no intention of picking up Qin Mian. He wasn’t a child who couldn’t find his way home. Tomorrow she had business to run—nothing mattered more than that.

At this point, she had no energy to bicker with Qin Xinyi.

Why waste time fighting with someone who looked down on her? Better to focus on making money.

“Luoluo’s skin is so fair—like a fresh cabbage stalk,” Old Madam Qin remarked.

Li Luo glanced down. She was washing vegetables, and indeed the green leaves made her look even fairer.

Not to be outdone, Qin Xinyi stretched out her own hand, but its sallow tone was too obvious. She quickly pulled back and muttered, “She must’ve put on powder. I’m not eating those vegetables she washed.”

Li Luo shoved up her sleeve, revealing smooth, pale arms, showing off her natural complexion.

Liu Qian blinked in surprise. She really was that fair. Fairness covered a multitude of flaws—no wonder Li Luo looked sharper than before. “Luoluo, did you use some whitening product?”

Li Luo’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Qin Mian gave me a cream. Finished one box and I turned this fair.”

Qin Xinyi immediately thought: What kind of cream? Tomorrow when Little Uncle comes back, I’ll ask him for one too.

Liu Qian believed it. Back in university, Qin Mian had developed a special burn ointment. He could have worked in Beijing, but apparently offended someone powerful and was exiled to the Northwest doing unrelated work. With their grandfather retired, no one had the pull to get him transferred back.

By evening, after finishing chores, Li Luo went for a run. When she returned, the gate was locked.

No need to guess who had done it—Qin Xinyi, of course.

She climbed the wall.

When she landed with a loud thud, she woke Qin Jun in the east wing. He opened his door and saw Li Luo’s back disappearing into her room. Checking the gate, he found it locked.

So she really climbed over the wall? At her size? Wasn’t she afraid of breaking her neck?

The next morning, Li Luo rose before dawn. She jogged to the scrap factory, arriving by seven. She bought one vegetable bun, two meat buns, and two fried dough sticks.

She ate a third of the vegetable bun and fed the rest to the factory dog.

At seven-thirty, the scrap-collector uncle arrived, pedaling his tricycle stacked high with boxes of soap.

“Well, you’re early.”

Li Luo grinned. “Had to be. I brought you breakfast.”

The uncle was delighted. “You’re a clever girl. Your family does business, don’t they? No one without experience would dare to handle things like this.”

Li Luo chuckled. “Business runs in the family.” Her ancestors for seven or eight generations had been merchants. Her parents had tried to turn her into a cultured intellectual instead. She’d shown great promise at school—admitted to university at fifteen—but later struggled and nearly failed to graduate.

She had worked in a company for two years before suddenly ending up here.