The “Little Yi” mentioned by Ning Yanfan and Grandmother Yu was Grandmother Yu’s son, whose full name was Xu Zhongyi.
The Yu family had experienced two waves of emigration. The first was before the founding of the People’s Republic, and the second was in the mid-1960s when Grandmother Yu’s son Xu Zhongyi left the country. At that time, sensing the approaching turmoil, Grandmother Yu and her husband sent their only son and his family abroad. While this decision helped Xu Zhongyi escape the impending chaos, it brought catastrophic consequences for Grandmother Yu and her husband.
After leaving the country, Xu Zhongyi only wrote one letter home. The letter never reached Grandmother Yu as it was confiscated, and she never knew its contents. This was the only contact with home after his departure.
Almost twenty years passed, and Grandmother Yu remained uncertain whether her only son and his family were alive or dead. Without any news, the elderly woman endured her illnesses, refusing to surrender her life to the King of Hell.
Xu Zhongyi’s letter had been sent from San Francisco, America, where many Chinese immigrants resided. San Francisco was their only lead.
Ning Yanfan had made inquiries through others and personally visited San Francisco, but due to time constraints, these efforts proved fruitless.
Xia Xiaolan suggested hiring private investigators and placing advertisements in newspapers and radio stations—common methods for finding people in modern times. These latter two approaches were particularly effective due to their broad reach.
However, the problem was that Grandmother Yu had no money.
She had long wanted to sell her small building near Erqi Square. Over the years, Grandmother Yu had come to realize that life was more important than wealth, and she was willing to part with her liquid assets. Unable to find a suitable buyer for the building, she decided to “give” it to Xia Xiaolan. The value wasn’t in the building itself but in the land at Erqi Square.
Grandmother Yu possessed basic business acumen and knew that with the government now allowing private enterprise, properties in the Erqi Square area would only appreciate.
Regardless of its future worth, Grandmother Yu wouldn’t regret her decision—if Xia Xiaolan could find her family, she would give her the house!
“Don’t worry about the property rights. I’ll put my reputation on the line to secure the other half of the rights from the Third State Cotton Mill.”
Of course, this wasn’t what Xia Xiaolan was concerned about.
During this trip to Beijing, Xia Xiaolan gained a better understanding of Grandmother Yu’s background. She had always suspected that Grandmother Yu wasn’t an ordinary person—even Hu Yongcai knew she had connections, otherwise a lone elderly woman couldn’t have protected such a large courtyard from being seized.
Now, Xia Xiaolan’s understanding was clearer.
“Don’t worry about the house for now. Let’s find them first.”
Currently, the black market exchange rate between US dollars and Chinese currency is roughly 1:10, and this endeavor would require tens of thousands of US dollars. Xia Xiaolan decided to first write to a San Francisco television station. Americans loved “stories,” and she planned to tell them a touching tale—hoping this would help reduce the search costs.
Having made this “deal” with Xia Xiaolan, Grandmother Yu felt her greatest worry had found some resolution.
She had observed Xia Xiaolan for a year and determined the girl was trustworthy enough for important matters, which was why she had chosen to reveal everything through Ning Yanfan.
Xia Xiaolan’s guess was correct—the study door had been left open deliberately so she could hear.
With everything out in the open, Grandmother Yu no longer hesitated:
“When your mother moves to Beijing, I’ll spend more time there too. I’ll pay you the same monthly amount as the rent you previously paid me.”
The house in Shangdu could still be rented out, and that rental income would subsidize Grandmother Yu’s own “rent” expenses.
She wasn’t taking advantage of Xia Xiaolan—currently, housing prices nationwide didn’t vary much, and rent in Beijing was similar to other provincial capitals.
With matters settled, Grandmother Yu felt verbal agreements weren’t enough and asked Ning Yanfan to witness the writing of a contract.
Xia Xiaolan, torn between laughter and tears, signed and fingerprinted the document.
She did want the small building at Erqi Square, knowing it would become part of Central China’s famous commercial district in the future. Any businessperson who knew of such an opportunity would be foolish not to take it. But Xia Xiaolan had planned to buy it—she never intended to acquire it through “deception” or other means.
Finding people was much more troublesome than buying with money.
Xia Xiaolan had fallen prey to her tendency for softheartedness.
Towards those who wronged her, she could be hard-hearted and extremely cold.
But if someone showed her even a little kindness, she wanted to repay it many times over.
Ning Yanfan put away their agreement, “Junior Yu, now you can rest assured.”
Grandmother Yu trusted only Xia Xiaolan, who must have exceptional qualities. Given that the Zhou family valued her, she couldn’t be ordinary, and Ning Yanfan had no reason to worry. Having resolved her major concern, Grandmother Yu was happy:
“I must return now, Xiaolan’s mother is waiting for me at home.”
Even without the matter of finding her family, Grandmother Yu might have agreed to live in Beijing—not because Liu Fen needed her guidance, but because the old lady had grown somewhat dependent on Liu Fen.
Grandmother Yu declined Ning Yanfan’s invitation to stay for lunch and left with Xia Xiaolan.
After they left, Ning Yanfan called his granddaughter:
“Regarding you and Ji Jiangyuan, let’s pretend the family never brought it up. He’s not a suitable husband.”
Without this conflict, Ning Yanfan wouldn’t have known Ji Ya’s character flaws were so serious. With Ji Ya’s issues, and Ji Jiangyuan’s unable to abandon his mother, introducing such a boy to Ning Xue would only hold her back.
Ning Xue paused, wanting to say Ji Jiangyuan was also a “victim” in this matter, but faced with her grandfather’s all-seeing eyes, she kept silent.
“Grandfather, I need to return to school. I have afternoon classes.”
Watching his granddaughter’s retreating figure, Ning Yanfan sighed softly.
He knew his granddaughter best—incredibly intelligent, but with the typical flaw of smart people: once she made up her mind, it was extremely difficult to change it.
…
Xia Xiaolan returned to school, while Grandmother Yu went back to Shichahai.
When she told Liu Fen about her decision to move to Beijing with her, Liu Fen was overjoyed.
Seeing her genuine happiness, Grandmother Yu felt worried. This woman would help count money for someone who sold her out. Fortunately, she was lucky to have both a thick-skinned, shrewd daughter and a meddlesome old woman like herself willing to look out for her.
If Mayor Tang took his position in Pengcheng and lured Ah Fen there, wouldn’t she have to follow Pengcheng too?
That place was just a fishing village, and Grandmother Yu would never want to go there.
In Yangcheng.
Tang Hongen, who had been on Grandmother Yu’s mind, stepped off the plane.
There was only one daily flight between Yangcheng and Beijing. The plane Tang Hongen had just taken would fly back to Beijing after refueling and maintenance—this was the flight Du Zhaohui’s assistant had booked. Before Du Young Master could board the plane, he had this chance encounter with Tang Hongen at the airport.
The person following Du Zhaohui was Xia Dajun.
“Mayor Tang, what a coincidence, you’re back already?”
While cursing a thousand times in his heart, Du Zhaohui maintained a warm smile on his face.
Tang Hongen was also surprised—how did Du Zhaohui know his movements and come to intercept him at Baiyun Airport?
As Tang Hongen shook hands with Du Zhaohui, both men had their thoughts. As for Xia Dajun, he was such an insignificant figure that Tang Hongen barely noticed him—fate was strange like that. Some were mayors, others were migrant workers, yet through coincidence, their paths were destined to cross.
At this moment, Xia Dajun remained blissfully unaware.
While he could maintain his simple directness before a Hong Kong tycoon’s son, Xia Dajun felt completely awkward in front of an official like the mayor.
He was nervous—after all, he had previously smuggled himself into Hong Kong. Would the police arrest him if they found out?!