Yi Leng stayed late chatting with the security guard at the gate before heading back home. With the new electric water heater installed, the issue of insufficient hot water from the solar heater was finally resolved. His quality of life instantly improved. After a hot shower and a few drinks, he lay on his bed, comforted by the thought that his daughter was just across the hall, and slept soundly.

However, in the middle of the night, he dreamed of Xiang Mo, the memories of her leaving him heartbroken once again.

Seeing his daughter this time had brought Yi Leng immense emotional relief. Now that he had calmed down, he finally had the time and mindset to consider his own situation.

Tossing and turning through the night, Yi Leng eventually made a decision before dawn. He would return to his unit, reclaim his identity, publicly reunite with his daughter, accept the disciplinary consequences, and try to transfer to a civilian desk job. If that didn’t work, he would retire and leave Jiangwei with his daughter, making it his mission to make up for all the years he owed her.

But Yi Leng wasn’t naive enough to simply walk into the relevant department and announce himself. Four years had passed, and who knew what had changed at his old unit? His profession was highly secretive, and being missing for four years classified him as a "lost asset," with a high risk of defection. After careful deliberation, Yi Leng devised a safer approach.

The next morning, Yi Leng drove to the Jiangwei long-distance bus station. After observing the crowd for a while, he identified a pickpocket. When the thief stole a phone from a traveler’s pocket, Yi Leng deliberately bumped into him, taking the stolen phone in the process.

Behind the public restroom at the bus station, in a secluded corner, Yi Leng dialed the number of his former superior. It was disconnected. Thinking for a moment, he tried another familiar colleague's number—also disconnected. He made five calls in total, all either disconnected, out of service, or reassigned to someone else.

Left with no other choice, Yi Leng called a landline number, the office line of his former unit, which he knew was unlikely to change. Finally, someone answered—a duty officer. Yi Leng mentioned his former operations unit, but the officer replied that the unit had been disbanded a long time ago.

"Is Xin Zichao still there? What about Zhang Wei, or Director Di? Surely someone must still be around?" Yi Leng’s voice grew tense.

"Sorry, I don’t recognize any of those names. Please state your name and code," the officer replied calmly.

The landline was confidential, so anyone who managed to call it was likely not an ordinary individual. The duty officer’s caution was understandable, but Yi Leng felt a sinking sense of foreboding. He hung up, removed the SIM card, destroyed the phone, and walked away.

Next, he found a black-market internet café nearby. Using specific search terms, he finally uncovered the information he was looking for: his former superior, Director Di, had passed away two years ago due to illness.

Yi Leng had been a special agent, his identity highly classified. Very few people knew who he truly was. Now, with Director Di gone, his unit disbanded, and his personnel file likely sealed in some forgotten safe, there was no one left who could verify his identity. His closest teammates had all perished, and the remaining acquaintances couldn’t vouch for him. This wasn’t just a matter of retiring or transferring to a civilian role—there was a real risk of being classified as a defector and executed.

If that were the case, Yi Leng would truly be "cold" (dead). It might be better to remain in Jiangwei, hiding under the alias "Huang Pihu," living as a greasy chef.

At Xiliu Bay Airport, group executives were sending off the inspection team. Ma Xiaowei noticed that the daughter of Chairman Ou was absent from the boarding lineup. However, he didn’t think much of it; perhaps Miss Ou had left the day before. After all, Jiangwei wasn’t exactly a tourist destination—it had no famous landmarks or delicacies, only polluted seawater and an old shipyard.

Meanwhile, Ali was busy sorting out her housing situation. The principal had granted her a day’s leave and assigned another young teacher, Ling Siyan, to accompany her. Ling Siyan, a recent graduate from a teacher’s college with a degree in English, was cheerful and chatty.

Ling Siyan was a local, though she didn’t live in the shipyard district and was currently staying in temporary housing provided by the school. She too needed to find a rental.

She told Ali that the best residential complex nearby was the "Hawaiian Coastal Neighborhood," but the rent there was expensive. After paying rent, there would barely be enough left for food. Plus, it was far from the school, requiring the purchase of an electric scooter for commuting, making it less practical. Instead, renting an old unit in the Shipyard New Village would save a lot of money, and there’d be no need to buy a scooter.

"Walking can be your transportation," Ling Siyan said. "It’s good exercise too."

Ali agreed. She had plenty of options—she could easily rent a long-term hotel suite or even buy a fully furnished apartment with modern amenities. But that would go against the purpose of her support-teaching program in Jiangwei, which was to experience "real life."

Not understanding Ali’s financial situation, Ling Siyan assumed the Hawaiian complex was too expensive for her and proposed a second option: "Why don’t we share a small apartment in Shipyard New Village? That way, we can look out for each other and save some money."

"Sure!" Ali agreed enthusiastically.

The two headed to a real estate agency and found a newly listed property. An agent took them to see a two-bedroom unit on the third floor of Building 17. Both rooms faced south and had good lighting. The decor was over a decade old—wood paneling, door frames, and parquet flooring—but the original owner had barely lived there. The furniture was intact, but basic appliances and kitchenware were missing.

The rent was 800 yuan per month, with a deposit of three months’ rent up front. Ali was about to agree, but Ling Siyan stopped her with a look. Instead of commenting on the unit, she suggested they check out other options.

After viewing several other apartments with issues like high floors or poor layouts, they returned to Building 17. Ling Siyan haggled the rent down to 500 yuan, but the agent would only lower it by 50. After some back-and-forth, they settled on 700 yuan.

Since Ling Siyan didn’t have enough money, Ali paid three months’ rent and a one-month deposit, totaling 2,800 yuan. After signing the lease and receiving the keys, the two went on a shopping spree for essentials.

They headed to the busiest area in the shipyard district, Shipyard Boulevard, to buy appliances. The stores on this street had a decent selection, but for something like McDonald’s, they’d have to travel to Jiangwei’s city center.

As usual, Ling Siyan took charge. She chatted with sales staff, mentioning that she was a teacher at a local school and could help with student enrollments in exchange for discounts. The staff recommended some government-subsidized appliances, including a gas stove, refrigerator, and washing machine. A television wasn’t necessary, and an air conditioner could wait until summer. They bought everything at the Haier counter.

The sales staff provided a payment slip, and Ling Siyan asked Ali to pay first, promising to reimburse her once she received her paycheck. Ali glanced at the modest total, took the slip to the cashier, and pulled out a black American Express Centurion Card.

This was a supplementary card her father had issued to her, one of the most prestigious credit cards globally. Abroad, its appearance would draw envy and admiration.

But at the cashier counter of a department store on Shipyard Boulevard in Jiangwei, the black card was promptly rejected.

"Use a different card," the cashier said bluntly.

The cashier, trying to be helpful, added, "Young lady, why are you trying to pay with a beauty card? This isn’t a bank card."

"It is a bank card," Ali replied, confused.

The cashier, skeptical but obliging, swiped the card. The POS machine didn’t respond.

Unbeknownst to Ali, China’s banking regulations prohibited standalone foreign-issued credit cards. Cards had to be co-branded with local banks to work domestically. Moreover, the Amex Centurion Card wasn’t technically a credit card but a charge card, making it even more incompatible.

Ali was at a loss. She typically didn’t handle her own purchases and carried no other cards besides the black one.

Of course, this wasn’t a big issue—she could always call her father for help, and the problem would be resolved within half an hour.

The cashier tossed the black card back at Ali. "Next."

Ali turned around and unexpectedly came face-to-face with a scruffy, bearded man—Huang Pihu (Yi Leng).

Yi Leng had just returned from the city and stopped by the department store to pick up some household items. To his surprise, he ran into Ali at the checkout counter.

"What a coincidence," they both said at the same time.

"Having some trouble?" Yi Leng had overheard the earlier interaction. He took the receipt from Ali’s hand, glanced at it, and handed both his and her receipts to the cashier. "Let’s put it all on one bill," he said.

"Thank you, Master Huang. I’ll pay you back later," Ali said gratefully.

"Stocking up on supplies? Are you settling down here?" Huang asked casually.

"Yes, I’m substitute teaching at the local school. I just rented a place in Shipyard New Village," Ali replied openly, her honesty and openness on full display.

"Well, what a coincidence. I live in Shipyard New Village too. If you’ve got more things to buy, let’s get them all at once. I can drive us back together," Yi Leng offered.

Ali mentioned she still needed to buy pots, pans, kitchen knives, pretty tableware, tablecloths, an oven, a microwave, a dishwasher, a disinfectant cabinet, a water purifier, a garbage disposal, and more.

Yi Leng immediately shut her down: "If you want to 'blend in with the locals,' keep it simple. And stop buying everything here at the department store. I’ll take you to the market instead—one-stop shopping, and don’t worry, I’ve got a car."

Hearing that there was a car, Ling Siyan decided to tag along. They went to the parking lot, where they found a battered Wuling van. Its doors creaked as they opened, revealing a backseat with no seating, windows covered in poor-quality bubble-ridden film, and an overwhelming stench of mixed vegetables and meat. Sitting inside felt less like being a passenger and more like being cargo.

"Where are the seats?" Ling Siyan asked, her voice full of disbelief.

Master Huang nonchalantly pulled out two folding stools and unfolded them. "What do you mean? These are perfectly good seats."

Ling Siyan wasn’t having it. "I just remembered… someone needs to be home to receive the deliveries from the mall. I’ll head back now. Ali, you go ahead."

So Ali climbed into the rickety Wuling van. Compared to the empty passenger seat, she found the folding stool more novel and exciting. Though there was no air conditioning—just a heater that still let in drafts—her curiosity and exhilaration far outweighed any discomfort.

Ali had grown up in a standalone villa in Shanghai’s Jing’an District, with maids and chauffeurs at her disposal. Due to her heart condition, her parents had always kept her under strict protection. She had never seen the "darker side" of the world or experienced the lives of ordinary people. What Ling Siyan found repulsive, Ali found new and adventurous—an exciting yet harmless exploration.

Yi Leng drove them to the market, which sold wholesale kitchenware and appliances. Unlike the shiny pots and pans of the department store, the items here were tied together with rough ropes and looked dirty. But the prices were shockingly low.

Yi Leng helped Ali pick out a set of bowls and plates, a wok, a boiling pot, a cutting board, a knife, and a spatula. These basics were more than sufficient. After paying, he loaded everything into the van and drove Ali to Shipyard New Village.

It was only then that they realized Ali had moved into the same building as Yi Leng—they were now neighbors.

Ali was delighted. "This is perfect! The two households downstairs are Warm Warm (Yi Nuan Nuan) and Master Huang. We’re all familiar faces now. Neighbors watching out for each other!"

With her new home settled, Ali began planning. She wanted to ship her pillows and sofa from her house in Shanghai, buy a ton of soft furnishings, and get her laptop and gaming console sent over. She envisioned creating a brand-new, cozy home for herself.

After helping Ali move her things upstairs, Yi Leng got a phone call and left quickly. Something had happened at the restaurant. This time, it was the city administration officers (chengguan) causing trouble. They claimed the restaurant’s signage hadn’t been approved, and both the lightbox and signboard needed to be removed. There was also a fine to be paid. Wu Yumei, holding a rolling pin, was in a standoff with the officers when Xiao Hong called him for help.

When Yi Leng arrived, the confrontation was still ongoing. A group of chengguan officers in blue uniforms stood at the restaurant entrance, while Wu Yumei, armed with her rolling pin, blocked their path like an unyielding fortress. The sight of Yi Leng seemed to give Wu Yumei renewed energy, as she appeared ready to battle the officers single-handedly.

What shocked everyone, however, was that Yi Leng didn’t back her up. Instead, he politely greeted the chengguan captain, offering him a cigarette. Somehow, Yi Leng immediately identified the captain among the group of officers.

The captain waved the cigarette away with the back of his hand and, sticking to protocol, stated, "You’ve violated the Urban Appearance and Environmental Sanitation Management Regulations. You replaced your signboard without filing with the chengguan bureau, and the outdoor lightbox advertisement also lacks approval. According to regulations, we need to remove the non-compliant signage and issue a fine."

Yi Leng smiled and said, "Captain, someone must have tipped you off about our restaurant, right?"

The captain ignored the comment and replied, "If you refuse to cooperate, we’ll have to call the police."

"We’ll cooperate," Yi Leng said calmly. "Please issue the ticket."

Wu Yumei was furious at his “weakness,” but before she could act, Yi Leng gently stopped her by placing his hand on the rolling pin and shaking his head. Seeing his steady gaze, she relented, threw the rolling pin aside, and stormed into the kitchen, muttering angrily about not wanting to see any of this.

Remaining cooperative, Yi Leng personally climbed a ladder and removed the LED lights from the signboard that read "Yumei Restaurant." This was the first light he had seen on his arrival in Jiangwei on a snowy night, a symbol of warmth—but now, he had to take it down himself.

The chengguan officers loaded the removed lightbox and signboard onto a blue truck. The captain handed Yi Leng a fine for 2,000 yuan, instructing him to pay at the Agricultural Bank by the next day to avoid late fees or increased penalties.

"Thank you, Captain," Yi Leng said politely, as if the officers were there to help rather than dismantle the restaurant.

After the officers left, Yi Leng returned to the restaurant, humming as if nothing had happened. This infuriated Wu Yumei even more. "Yi Leng, are you even a man?!"

Yi Leng smirked and put his hand on his belt. "What, do you want to check?"

Wu Yumei laughed in exasperation. "They walked all over us, and you didn’t even fight back. I’m starting to think you’re missing some vital parts."

Yi Leng retorted, "Do you even know who these people are?"

"They’re chengguan. I’m not blind," Wu Yumei replied.

"Chengguan are state officials with administrative enforcement authority. They have the power to act. As long as they follow regulations and don’t resort to violence, we can’t fight back. First the health bureau came, now the chengguan. Someone’s clearly targeting us. That’s the real issue. If we resisted and broke the law, we’d be playing right into their hands. Losing the signboard and lightbox doesn’t stop us from doing business. Once we fix the paperwork, the problem is solved."

Wu Yumei grudgingly admitted he had a point but remained defiant. "Hmph, as if they’ll approve our application. They’ll just keep stalling us."

"Everyone plays by the rules. If they refuse to process our application, we’ll escalate—call the mayor’s hotline, seek help from the local radio station. If all else fails, we’ll confront their bureau chief directly. In ancient times, suing officials came at the cost of one’s life. Nowadays, it just takes some guts and persistence."

Wu Yumei, finally conceding, said, "Fine. I’ll pay the fine and file the application this afternoon."

"Good. But don’t rush. Let me stop by the electronics market and pick up some things to help you out," Yi Leng suggested.

Just then, Ali approached, her face clouded with worry.

"Boss Huang, I’m looking for a part-time job," she said.

Yi Leng raised an eyebrow. "First off, I’m not the boss—she is," he said, pointing at Wu Yumei. "Second, isn’t your father some big-shot businessman? How did you end up needing part-time work overnight?"

[--------------------------------------------]

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