A surge of shame and anger instantly shot through his entire body.

“Damn it, who told you to spout nonsense!”

Du Zhaohui cursed immediately, and Ah Hua meekly apologized: “I’m sorry, Young Master, I must have misheard.”

Du Zhaohui, agitated, drove Ah Hua away.

He gulped down a glass of ice water and collapsed on the bed, unable to sleep.

Why did he fall into the swimming pool?

Why did he keep gravitating toward Xia Xiaolan?

Did he call out “Xia Xiaolan” 17 times while delirious?

Many clues pointed to one answer—an answer Du Zhaohui refused to believe.

He had always felt only “lust” rather than “interest” in women. It must be Tang Yuanyue’s recent madness that had given him these bizarre thoughts! This reasoning quickly convinced Du Zhaohui. In Hong Kong, he often competed in showing off wealth, fought for newspaper coverage with starlets, and whenever someone bought a car, Du Zhaohui would buy an even more expensive one.

These were the survival rules for Hong Kong’s second-generation rich.

Life had become very lonely since coming to Pengcheng—no paparazzi chasing him, no starlets competing for attention, and no venues for indulgence.

He’d lost touch with most of his former social circle, and that life of calling upon friends was fading away.

“Lonely?”

Du Zhaohui laughed mockingly.

He would neither be interested in any particular woman nor feel lonely.

Staying on the mainland too long had made him stupid. It was time to return to Hong Kong for some fun, check on how his second brother was doing, and maintain his presence before his old man.

Xia Ziyu?

He would never hand over Xia Ziyu.

Xia Ziyu was still useful to him, and besides, if he handed her over, wouldn’t that make him a spineless man who could be ordered around by women?

Du Zhaohui would never admit to being interested in Xia Xiaolan. Having barely made it to morning, he dressed up in his Playboy style and casually instructed Ah Hua to book tickets:

“I need to return to Hong Kong. Arrange for more people to accompany me.”

Hong Kong was dangerous, and full of people who wanted him dead. Compared to Hong Kong, the mainland was safer. During his long investment period in Pengcheng, Du Zhaohui had only encountered one ambush on the way to Yangcheng Airport. In Hong Kong, he faced several “accidents” every year—the single Yangcheng Airport ambush was nothing in comparison.

Thinking of Yangcheng Airport reminded him of Xia Dajun, and through association, his thoughts immediately jumped to Xia Xiaolan.

He shook his head several times, feeling like his brain had been waterlogged since falling into the pool.

Perhaps during this Hong Kong trip, he should arrange a thorough medical examination to see what was wrong with him!

“Book me a doctor’s appointment immediately after we land!”

Ah Hua respectfully agreed.

Though bodyguards weren’t robots and maintained expressionless faces, they had their thoughts: Why was Young Master booking a doctor just because he called out “Xia Xiaolan” 17 times while delirious?

If that was the reason, Ah Hua thought he could diagnose the condition without a doctor’s help.

But knowing something doesn’t mean you should say it—Ah Hua dared not speak up!

…

Du Zhaohui had always been the epitome of senselessness in Xia Xiaolan’s mind; any strange behavior from such a person was normal.

If he wanted to take a bath in the swimming pool wearing designer clothes, what business was it of Xia Xiaolan’s?

She didn’t know about Du Zhaohui falling ill from the temperature changes, and if she did, she would probably just despise his weak constitution.

In Yuanhui’s office, she and Liu Yong were going over the accounts.

“So you’re saying that by counting all costs—settling outstanding material payments, workers’ wages, even the 20,000 yuan to Ning’s studio for design modifications—our profit margin reached 18.7%?”

This differed from their earlier expectations; they’d thought a 15% profit would be good, given all the uncertainties during construction.

Liu Yong wasn’t used to expressing things in percentages, “We earned 1,402,500 yuan, that’s correct. We agreed to split it equally. If you’re uncomfortable with the odd number, let your uncle have the extra 2,500 yuan advantage, and you take an even 700,000.”

Xia Xiaolan earned 700,000 yuan.

Liu Yong earned the same amount.

Both had taken bank loans, included in the costs, and now with Dongfeng Holdings paying the final installment, uncle and niece could repay Manager Wu’s loans, leaving 1.4 million as final profit.

Small renovation jobs earned a few hundred yuan, or at most a few thousand.

Only these two large projects had allowed Liu Yong to quickly build wealth.

First the government guesthouse, then the Nanhai Hotel—these projects directly propelled Liu Yong into the millionaire class.

It felt like a dream. Three years ago, he couldn’t scrape together 100 yuan to his name.

Two years ago, he was involved in smuggling, nearly losing his life, and the money earned from those high risks didn’t even reach 10,000 yuan.

Back then, if someone had told Liu Yong that legitimate business was more profitable than smuggling, he would have rolled his eyes a hundred times!

Facts proved that legitimate business really was profitable… The newly minted millionaire Liu looked at his niece sitting on the sofa, “You’re a millionaire now too.”

Xia Xiaolan thought for a moment, “No, you’re a real millionaire, while I’m a ten-million-yuan debtor—I still owe the bank over ten million!”

Heavy debt wasn’t crushing.

As people would say in the future: with small bank debts, you’re the grandson, anxious and sleepless, fearing the bank’s collection calls.

With large debts, you eat and sleep well—it’s the bank that can’t sleep.

But Manager Wu’s money had to be repaid—borrowing and returning makes future borrowing easier. Even though 1985’s interest rates were extremely low, they weren’t zero. She’d heard some banks offered interest-free loans to farmers, actually pursuing farmers to take loans, but in the 1980s few dared to borrow. Xia Xiaolan hadn’t encountered such good fortune!

After repaying the bank loan, she still had 700,000 yuan in cash.

She could continue opening branch stores for her mother and needed to find a way to exchange some money for US dollars.

The black market?

The black market exchange rates were too exploitative; Xia Xiaolan immediately ruled out this option. 10,000 yuan for 1,000 dollars—she’d rather go through official channels.

Perhaps Manager Wu could help?

If Manager Wu didn’t have sufficient authority, Xia Xiaolan would have to ask Huo Chenzhou for help. Dongfeng Holdings surely had foreign exchange quotas; exchanging a few tens of thousands of dollars wouldn’t be too much, right?

Liu Yong was also considering how to spend his money.

“That clothing brand you started with Chen Xiliang, can it be franchised? You mentioned yesterday about having your aunt come to Pengcheng, and she agreed. The store in Shangdu is still running—could she open a franchise store in Pengcheng?”

Franchise Luna in Pengcheng?

That wouldn’t be a problem, and once Wang Mingming finished shooting the advertisements, Luna’s franchise fee would be more than 50,000 yuan.

“That’s a good idea. Who’s managing the Shangdu store? I remember there was a Ma Wei who was quite good, an old employee.”

Liu Yong wasn’t very familiar with the clothing store but knew Ma Wei. Unfortunately, Li Fengmei didn’t want outsiders managing it; she didn’t trust them and preferred having her sister-in-law from her maiden family manage it instead.

Xia Xiaolan frowned instinctively. The ‘Blue Phoenix’ in Shangdu shouldn’t be underestimated—the rent was so cheap it could be almost ignored. After Xia Xiaolan took Liu Fen to Beijing, though sales had decreased, the store still easily made over 100,000 yuan annually… Not just anyone could manage a store of this scale.

But what could she say? Tell her aunt not to help her own family after getting rich?

That seemed impossible when she thought about it!