"Huangquan?"
Li Xiaohui nearly burst out laughing. "That's really the name Teacher Xueqian came up with? Huangquan (Yellow Spring, a euphemism for the underworld)—does that mean there’s also a King of Hell to go with it?"
"It’s ‘Huangquan’—‘huang’ as in phoenix, ‘quan’ as in power. Not the name you’re thinking of," Yu Xin explained.
Li Xiaohui finally understood. "Oh, oh, so that’s the name."
"Now that you mention it, it’s actually quite unique and edgy. I love names like this—the kind gaming clans and teams always use."
However, when Li Xiaohui actually laid eyes on the internet café, she froze.
"Wait, is this place really okay here? Aren’t they afraid of starting a fight?"
Right across from the neon sign of "Huangquan Internet Café" stood another establishment, its bold sign reading "Yanwang Internet Café" (King Yan, another name for the King of Hell). The two were directly facing each other, the tension between them practically palpable.
......
The next morning.
Liu Yutong pulled out her phone, preparing to call her grandfather and check on things at home.
Guo Yani’s inexplicable remark to her had tipped her off—something must have happened again. Either her father, Liu Jianyi, was causing trouble, or her brother, Liu Yushan, was up to no good.
Those two never went a single day without stirring up drama.
She had meant to call yesterday, but something came up, and by the time she got back, her grandparents had already gone to bed early. She didn’t want to disturb them, so she waited until the next morning.
When the call connected, however, a young man’s voice answered instead.
"Hey, sis, Great-Uncle and Great-Aunt are here with me. Nothing’s wrong at home. I’ll pass the phone to Great-Uncle now."
Liu Yutong immediately saw through it. That was as good as admitting something had happened.
"Debao, take the phone outside where no one can hear you. Don’t hand it to Grandpa yet."
On the other end, Liu Debao hesitated, but hearing the seriousness in his cousin’s voice, he obeyed.
Liu Yutong could hear the background noise shifting.
"Who is it?"
"Nobody, just my alarm going off."
Liu Debao made up an excuse, then hurried outside to a secluded corner near the vegetable cellar, crouching down and covering the receiver. "Okay, sis, I’m by the cellar now. No one’s around. You can talk—I’m not the gossiping type. Whatever you say, I won’t breathe a word. Totally reliable."
Liu Yutong: "..."
"What actually happened at home? What did Yang Jianyi do this time?"
"Well..."
"Spit it out! If you dare lie to me, just wait till I get home!"
"Fine, fine! Sis, I’m turning eighteen after New Year’s—you really still gonna hit me? Even my parents don’t do that anymore."
"Last chance."
For some reason, Liu Debao shivered at her tone. There was an undeniable authority in her voice, as if he were facing some high-ranking official.
But his cousin was just an ordinary college student.
Weird.
Still, he didn’t dare delay any longer.
"Alright, sis, here’s the thing. Uncle gambled away the family’s land. Great-Uncle was so furious he beat him, and then Uncle snapped and fought back—"
"WHAT?!"
Liu Yutong was standing in the hallway corner outside her classroom, her raised voice startling nearby students.
As the undisputed star of the finance university—the campus belle and the young mistress of the Wanlong Society—no one had ever seen Liu Yutong lose her temper.
She was always composed, as if anger simply didn’t exist for her. Yet now, they were witnessing her lose control for the first time.
They could already picture it: someone was definitely going to pay. Crossing Liu Yutong? That was a one-way ticket to being flattened into paste—the kind you couldn’t even scrape off the ground.
On the other end of the line, Liu Debao flinched, as if a wave of icy air had rushed through the phone.
"Great-Uncle and Great-Aunt are fine, but now Ergou and some local thugs showed up demanding the land. My parents were worried they’d get worked up again, so they brought them to our place for a few days.
But don’t worry, sis, Great-Uncle’s safe with us. I’m home too, so I can help look after them."
Liu Debao was Liu Yutong’s cousin, though a bit more distant—his grandfather and hers were brothers, so by village tradition, they were still considered cousins.
His family lived on the east side of the village, not far from her grandparents. When they heard the commotion, they rushed over and brought the elderly couple to stay with them, temporarily diffusing the situation.
Liu Yutong’s grandfather had been harassed by debt collectors because of his youngest son, Liu Jianyi’s, actions. The creditors were forcing them to sign over their land under a twenty-year lease.
In rural areas, land couldn’t be outright sold, but it could be leased.
For elders who treated their land as more precious than life itself, this was nothing short of a death sentence.
When the debt collectors showed up, things escalated. Liu Jianyi, already blinded by his losses, had racked up nearly eighty thousand in debt—enough to ruin the family.
A desperate gambler would do anything.
If not for Liu Yutong’s uncle, Liu Jianhong, stepping in, things could have turned disastrous.
It was only because old man Liu Chengjiang was nearly hurt—almost leading to a catastrophe—that the local troublemakers, led by Ergou, backed off for the time being.
After all, the elder Liu still held some respect in the village. They didn’t dare push things too far.
Still, this wasn’t over. If left unresolved, it would only lead to endless chaos.
As Liu Yutong listened to her cousin’s account, her initial fury gradually subsided.
Now she understood why, in her past life, her grandparents had suddenly stopped farming.
They’d told her they were getting too old, that leasing the land would ease their burden. With their pensions, they’d have no trouble getting by.
She’d believed them, thinking it was for the best—less labor, less hardship.
Only now did she realize the truth: they hadn’t chosen to stop. The land had been taken from them.
While Liu Yutong agreed they shouldn’t be farming at their age, she knew they’d never accept it willingly.
For their generation, land was everything. They’d toiled under the sun their whole lives—they wouldn’t give it up unless they physically couldn’t anymore.
Even though she sent them money every month, she’d later checked with the bank. The funds were untouched.
Partly because rural life was frugal, but mostly because their habits of thrift ran bone-deep.
"Debao, I’ll send someone to pick up Grandpa and Grandma. And I need you to do something for me."
