Chapter 1: Sis, where are you from in Northeast?

The winter in Xiaoshan was as cold as always, the kind of cold unique to the Northeast.

The house that Shi Zhen rented was located on the outskirts of the city, in an old neighborhood that had been around for over ten years.

As Shi Zhen’s father, Shi Daguo, would say, “Old neighborhoods are like this. When someone upstairs stomps their feet, the walls downstairs start shedding paint.”

One more downside of an old neighborhood is that it has no soundproofing.

Privacy? Natural wakefulness? None of that exists.

Shi Zhen was always woken up by the footsteps above her every morning at dawn. Occasionally, she could even hear the couple upstairs yelling at each other.

That day was the Winter Solstice, and Xiaoshan had just experienced a heavy snowstorm.

It was the end of Shi Zhen’s first month in the rented house.

She tidied up the mess on her desk, bought a pack of pre-made dumplings and a case of beer, and invited her best friend, Shi Tingwan, over for dinner.

After drinking a few bottles of Snowflake beer, their faces began to flush.

“Shi Zhen, why is your face so red? You didn’t get drunk, did you? How could you be drunk after just a few bottles? When did your tolerance get so low?”

“Shi Tingwan, your face isn’t any better.”

Shi Tingwan laughed mischievously. “You know, with all this snow, don’t you think they should cancel school? My niece would be so happy she could jump to the sky if they did.”

“Kids never like going to school. With snow this big, they’ll definitely cancel,” Shi Zhen replied.

She glanced outside the window; cold air was blowing through the cracks, hitting her face.

The room was too warm, and condensation had long covered the windows. Looking up, she saw nothing but white, no snow, just foggy whiteness.

“Tingwan, guess how many kills my script has? Eighteen kills! Eighteen! I’ve revised it so many times, do you think I have no talent?”

Shi Zhen lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

She asked the question with a smile, but somehow, a tear slid down her cheek and onto her ear.

Shi Zhen was a person who liked to fantasize. When she was a child, she used to watch soap operas with her mother, and when she got a little older and the family bought a computer, she would sit in front of it every day, watching one show after another.

In sixth grade, she finished watching the popular idol drama at the time and began writing her own script on graph paper with a pencil.

When she finished most of the notebook in one day, she ran excitedly to show her mother. “Mom, look at how good my script is! How does it compare to the ones we watch together?”

Xu Ping took the notebook, flipped through it symbolically a few times, and, with a smile, ruffled Shi Zhen’s hair, saying in an exaggerated tone, “Oh my goodness, my big girl, this is amazing! You’re definitely going to be a great screenwriter in the future!”

Shi Zhen took the notebook, her eyes shining with excitement.

She thought to herself, I know what I’m going to do when I grow up—become a big screenwriter!

When that happens, the whole family will sit together in front of the TV, watching the dramas I write. How much pride will that bring!

As Shi Zhen grew older, she realized that her mother’s praise was just a typical encouraging remark from a Northeastern parent.

But the seed of her dream had already been planted, and when Shi Zhen looked back at it, she found that the small seed had grown so tall, with roots deeply embedded in her heart. If she tried to pull it out, it would hurt as if her muscles and tendons were being torn.

Shi Zhen attended Hualiang Normal University, majoring in Chinese language. Both her parents worked in a factory, and when it was time to fill out her college applications after the college entrance exams, Shi Zhen hesitated. Art schools were expensive, and her family’s income was low. After paying the mortgage, there wasn’t much left.

Shi Zhen asked, “Dad, what do you think I should major in?”

Shi Daguo replied, “Why not choose education? You can become a teacher. Your uncle’s wife works as a teacher at the first high school, and now they own two houses.”

Shi Zhen thought for a moment and said, “Okay.”

At that time, 18-year-old Shi Zhen understood one thing: Poor people aren’t allowed to dream.

Now, after graduating from university, Shi Zhen still couldn’t let go.

She thought about taking the postgraduate entrance exam for a drama and film literature major.

After preparing for a year, a few days before the exam, Shi Zhen went to ask Xu Ping, “Mom, how much money do we have at home now?”

Xu Ping hesitated, looking a bit flustered, and stammered, “Why are you asking this, girl?”

Shi Zhen said, “Just curious. I’m also part of the family.”

Xu Ping finally replied, “I don’t know why we spent so much last month, but we only have 5,000 yuan left in the savings.”

Shi Zhen smiled, “Oh, I’ll head back to my room now.”

After turning around, she canceled the hotel for the exam.

She had planned to apply to the best art school in the country, located in the prime area of Shulin. That place was so expensive that even a sugar-coated haws stick would cost several dozen yuan.

So, she said, “Mom, Dad, I’m planning to take the civil service exam!”

Then, she spent 500 yuan to rent a room and quietly wrote a script for a month.

“Shi Zhen, your biggest problem is that you always fall into endless self-doubt,” Shi Tingwan gently wiped away the tear from Shi Zhen’s ear.

“I think your writing is pretty good; it’s just a little rough. Failing at the beginning is normal.”

Saying this, Shi Tingwan jumped off the bed, ran to the living room, and secretly pulled something from her bag. Then, she rushed back to Shi Zhen’s side.

“I saved up for a long time to buy this,” Shi Tingwan held out her hand, revealing a beautifully packaged pair of headphones. “Noise-canceling headphones. You said you’re bothered by the kids running around upstairs, right? I heard these are really good for noise-cancellation.”

Shi Zhen didn’t know what to say, feeling both heartbroken and touched, her face flooded with tears.

She jumped into Shi Tingwan’s arms and hugged her. “Thank you, Tingwan. I will keep going!”

Shi Tingwan hugged her back, “Go for it, big screenwriter. I’m waiting for you to make a lot of money and take me along to get rich!”

The next day, Shi Zhen didn’t wake up until the afternoon. The hangover made her headache flare up again.

She poured a cup of hot water, took some painkillers, and opened her phone to pay the rent for the next month.

After transferring 500 yuan, Shi Zhen checked her phone balance, and the small digits on the screen became more and more shocking.

She counted several times—there were only two zeros between the one and the decimal point.

One hundred. She only had one hundred yuan left!

Shi Zhen swallowed hard, feeling as if she was about to end up on the streets.

At this point, writing a script was pointless. She needed to eat!

She opened a job-searching app, sending out resumes to education institutions, bubble tea shops, coffee shops, and hotpot restaurants.

Not long after, she got her first message.

HR: “I can accept that our fish-flavored shredded pork doesn’t have any fish in it, and I can even accept that there’s no wife in our wife’s cake, but I cannot accept that our company doesn’t have a teacher as excellent as you! Teacher, please reply, and let’s discuss the specifics.”

Shi Zhen: “What’s the salary?”

HR: “During the probation period, full-time salary is 2,800 yuan per month, working from 7 am to 6 pm, with one day off. We also offer five insurances and one fund!”

Shi Zhen: Shocked.jpg

Even the production team’s donkeys don’t work this hard!

Exploitation! This is pure exploitation!!!

After some more struggles, Shi Zhen finally found a job at a bubble tea shop. Although it didn’t offer any benefits, the salary was much higher.

Once she confirmed the job, she gave the house a thorough cleaning.

Looking at her spotless desk, Shi Zhen impulsively set a bottle of alcohol on the table and took a picture. Then, she posted on her Little Green Book:

“Being Don Quixote means living on 100 yuan for the whole month…”

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Shulin, Xie family

Compared to the heavy snowfall in Xiaoshan, Shulin, a city located in the south, was much warmer. The winter wind seemed especially gentle here.

The Xie family in Shulin was a family that had been passed down for generations. The most feared thing about these families was when an incapable heir emerged, for once the leader of the family lost their way, the entire family would be doomed.

Shulin had many such noble families before the reform, but today, only a few remained standing on this land.

The Xie family was one of them. For three generations, the heads of the family had been resolute and effective, with their ruthless methods in business almost undefeated.

Xie Longhui had been in the limelight for most of his life, and he believed the most glorious thing was marrying the eldest daughter of the Northeast’s Lan family. His greatest regret was sending his son, Xie Qian, to the Northeast to live with his maternal grandfather when Xie Qian was eight years old. He didn’t bring him back until he was eighteen.

“How did I end up with such a stubborn child!”

From the study, the sounds of a father and son arguing could be heard. The butler, Zhang Cheng, quietly dismissed the servants on the third floor and sighed as he gazed at the closed study door.

Xie Qian stood in front of his father’s desk, dressed in a leather jacket and dress pants, casually smoking a cigarette.

He took a deep drag, and the nicotine smell spread throughout the room. “You want me to work with those second-rate guys? Dream on!”

“Stop calling them ‘those damned foreigners’ every time you open your mouth!” Xie Longhui slammed the table and stood up. This unfilial son really wouldn’t rest until he drove him to an early grave. “They’re going to be Shenghui Group’s biggest business partner in the future!”

Xie Qian let out a cold laugh, his sharp and fierce gaze piercing straight through Xie Longhui. He sneered, “A business partner? My mom, my grandpa—whether it’s the Northeast, South China, or Northwest—whose ancestors didn’t suffer at the hands of those foreigners? When my mom married you, you should’ve known the Lan family’s background. You married a martyr’s daughter, and now you want to turn around and collaborate with the enemy?”

“Xie Qian!” Xie Longhui was so angry he could hardly breathe. “Look at you—just like your grandfather! A businessman’s first priority is profit. Do you have any idea how generous their offer is? These days, the world runs on economic globalization. You shut yourself at home trying to reinvent the wheel—what the hell can you even build?”

“You only dared to do this kind of heartless thing while my mom’s away,” Xie Qian strode forward and slammed both hands hard onto the desk. He looked straight into Xie Longhui’s eyes and said, word by word, “Back then, you made my mom so miserable she ran back to the Northeast. All these years have passed, and you’re still walking the same damn path?”

“If you really sign off and allow R Country to invest in Shenghui, my mom and I will both walk away and never come back.”

With long strides, Xie Qian headed for the door. As he pushed it halfway open, he paused briefly and said, “Don’t bring up my grandpa. The luckiest thing in my life was not being raised by you.”

With that, Xie Qian left without looking back.

Xie Longhui stared after him, rage boiling in his chest. He collapsed into his chair, breathing heavily.

Seeing the young master walk out, Zhang Cheng immediately rushed forward to greet him, but before he could speak, Xie Qian waved his hand dismissively and went downstairs.

Zhang Cheng hurried into the study, only to find the old master slumped red-faced in his chair.

“Oh no, sir, what happened?” Zhang Cheng quickly stepped forward to help calm him down. “Young master is just hot-blooded. What father and son hold grudges overnight? Once you talk things through, it’ll all be fine.”

Xie Longhui’s hands trembled with fury. “That unfilial brat—he’s really trying to kill me with anger!”

Zhang Cheng quickly poured him a glass of water. “Please calm down, sir. Madam is coming home soon. If she sees you like this, she’ll be heartbroken.”

At the mention of Lan Yudie, Xie Longhui finally began to come to his senses. Zhang Cheng’s reminder made him recall that his wife was about to return to the country. The investment deal probably really wouldn’t go through now.

In his younger days, Xie Longhui had been reckless and immature. He drove his then-pregnant wife, whom he’d only been married to for less than a year, all the way back to the Northeast in anger. To win her back, he chased her from the south to the north, crossing nearly half of China. It took him nearly two years to finally bring her home.

Since then, Xie Longhui had practically treated Lan Yudie’s every word as law. When Father Lan had fallen seriously ill, doctors said he needed his grandson around to suppress the evil spirits. That visit had kept Xie Qian in the Northeast for ten years. When he returned, not only had he picked up a full Northeastern accent, but he’d also inherited his grandfather’s entire temperament.

The Xie family had been merchants for generations, while the Lan family had a long military lineage. Their marriage had once been seen as a perfect union.

But businessmen value profit, and soldiers value honor—this kind of entanglement was impossible to untangle cleanly.

Xie Qian didn’t usually like to smoke. His grandfather, Lan Zezhong, had died from lung cancer.

But today, he was truly furious. If he didn’t numb his brain somehow, he didn’t know if he could stop himself from lashing out.

Back in his penthouse, Xie Qian collapsed onto the sofa, feeling disoriented.

After a while, his phone buzzed with a flurry of messages.

Xie Qian picked it up and saw they were from his mother:

[Happy birthday, my precious son. You’re 29 now! When are you going to bring a girlfriend home for mom to meet? I already prepared your gift—it’s in the old box in the living room at the old house.]

Following that were more birthday messages—partners, friends, and other elders from the family.

Xie Qian replied to them all one by one, then went to the bedroom and flopped heavily onto the bed.

He couldn’t help but find it absurd—he’d completely forgotten his own birthday, yet because he was the sole heir of the Xie family, a bunch of people who probably couldn’t even remember their own father’s birthday had stayed up until midnight to wish him a happy one.

An hour later, he was still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling until it nearly bloomed with patterns—still wide awake.

Too much on the mind made for a sleepless night.

So he picked up his phone and started looking at old photos. The snow in the Northeast used to be really thick. After one night of snowfall, you couldn’t even open the door the next day.

Why?

Because the snow piled up higher than the door itself.

If you wanted to leave the house, you’d first have to shovel snow for at least half an hour.

As he was reminiscing, a sudden message popped up on his phone.

It was from his niece:

[Uncle Xie, is this IP address where you lived when you were little? Uncle, don’t forget the people who helped you when you were in need. I think you should help the people there—they have to survive a whole month on just 100 yuan. So pitiful.]

There was a link attached.

His niece had just started first grade—at that mischievous age where kids are way too clever for their size.

Xie Qian glanced at the time. It was already 2 a.m. He replied:

[Yueyue, why are you still up so late? Are you sneaking in some game time again? If you don’t sleep soon, I’m telling your mom so she can spank your butt.]

Yueyue replied instantly:
[Bad Uncle! My mom would never spank me!]

Then, a moment later:
[Uncle, Yueyue is going to sleep now. But you can’t tell my mom I secretly played on my phone at night, okay?]

Xie Qian couldn’t help but laugh. Kids really had a magical way about them—just a short conversation could wash away most of his frustrations.

He tapped on the link Yueyue had sent. It led to a forum post.

Xie Qian thought Yueyue was just playing around, but to his surprise, there really were people still trying to live on 100 yuan a month.

“Don Quixote,” he murmured. Could this person be some kind of mad dream-chaser? Were there really still people like that in this day and age?

He clicked into the poster’s profile and discovered it was actually a 22-year-old girl.

And the IP address? Coincidentally, it really was from the Northeast.

Xie Qian had never wasted time on his phone for entertainment. This was the first time he’d ever, on impulse, left a comment under someone’s post.

After thinking it over for a moment, he decided that the Northeastern dialect felt more familiar:

[Hey girl, which part of the Northeast are you from?]