"Old Hu, your hair needs a trim."
When Professor Wen returned home, the house looked much the same, except that Dean Hu had grown a bit unkempt.
"Too busy. Now that you're back, you can help me cut it. You look well—that’s good."
Dean Hu held himself to high standards but never imposed them on Professor Wen.
"Alright, I’ll get the scissors. I met many interesting people in the orchard—folks exercising, doing farm work, basking in the sun. It really lifts the spirits."
"That’s wonderful. Once I retire, I’ll join you."
"Still waiting for your retirement? Unless the day comes when you truly can’t work anymore, you’ll never step down. Did you remember to take the stomach medicine Little Zhou prepared for you?"
"I did. I’m sorry I can’t be with you more."
Dean Hu sighed.
Fan Juan didn’t arrive in her official capacity as part of the economic department. Instead, she came as the factory director of Qianjin Electronics to meet with business partners, saying she was there to assess the market and explore opportunities for expanded collaboration.
The moment she arrived, she was picked up by the partner’s representatives.
Naturally, Fan Juan didn’t travel alone—she brought along a retired security officer for protection.
"Director Fan, welcome! Our boss has already reserved a restaurant and will be waiting for you there. He wanted to come personally, but an urgent matter came up that required his attention. He asked us to apologize and hopes you won’t mind."
"Not at all."
The car stopped at Yuezhou Grand Hotel. Fan Juan stepped out to find Boss Huo already waiting at the entrance.
"Director Fan, long time no see! Since we last parted in Beijing, I’ve been meaning to invite you down south. The meal is ready—you must be tired and hungry after your journey. Let’s eat first."
"Long time indeed, Boss Huo. You look even more prosperous than before—business must be thriving."
Fan Juan smiled as she followed him inside.
"All thanks to Director Fan’s influence. Your factory’s appliances are incredibly popular—affordable and practical. If it weren’t for the transportation costs driving up prices, they’d sell even better."
Boss Huo led Fan Juan into a private dining room. She subtly observed the lavish decor of the restaurant—Yuecheng’s economic development was clearly on another level.
"Director Fan, does the food suit your taste?"
"Yuecheng cuisine is different from Beijing’s, but the flavors are wonderfully fresh. You’ve gone to great lengths, Boss Huo."
Fan Juan set down her chopsticks. She hated wasting food, but Boss Huo had ordered far more dishes than necessary.
"How long do you plan to stay for this market visit? Any thoughts about setting up a factory here? If you’re interested, we could collaborate."
Boss Huo was respectful toward women—no alcohol was served at the table.
"It’s too early to say. A proper assessment requires thorough research. I’ll be here about ten days. Thank you for the hospitality today. Tomorrow, I’d like to visit your stores to see how our products are selling. I’ve also brought a new small appliance for you to review."
"Anything from your factory is guaranteed quality. Since you’re in Yuecheng, I must show you the local highlights. Work is endless—take the chance to enjoy yourself. I’ve arranged rooms for you here. It’s late—rest well tonight, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow."
"In that case, I won’t stand on ceremony. We’ll discuss the new product tomorrow."
Fan Juan headed to her room with her companion, while Boss Huo politely stayed behind after giving her the room numbers.
"Boss, why are you so deferential to a female factory director? Her products still depend on us to sell."
One of Boss Huo’s subordinates couldn’t help voicing his confusion.
"What do you know? A woman who can get her ads on Beijing TV isn’t ordinary. We’ve tried copying her products, but even the best imitations don’t come close. The connections she must have—not just in talent but also in influence—are beyond our reach. And setting up a factory in Beijing? That takes serious backing."
Boss Huo was profit-driven, which made his judgment of people all the sharper.
During dinner, Fan Juan had only one companion—a man who seemed ordinary at first glance but carried himself differently. He ate and drank without interrupting, neither submissive nor arrogant. For her to travel so far with just one bodyguard meant he was no pushover.
Upstairs, Fan Juan found the rooms Boss Huo had arranged—adjacent, so any disturbance would be noticed immediately.
"What a shame—so much food wasted back there."
Old Wu, Fan Juan’s companion, couldn’t help lamenting.
"It really is a pity. Next time, maybe we should ask for leftovers to take away?"
Fan Juan chuckled.
"Wouldn’t that embarrass you, Director?"
Old Wu grinned.
"Nothing shameful about valuing food. It’s just that since we’re not paying, taking extra might seem impolite."
Fan Juan opened her door.
"Did you eat enough?"
She turned to Old Wu with a serious look.
"More than enough. Those dishes may have been small, but there were plenty of them."
Old Wu nodded quickly.
"Then get some rest. We’ll wake early tomorrow to explore the area."
Old Wu woke in the middle of the night, rubbing his stomach. He’d eaten plenty at dinner—why was he suddenly hungry again?
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
Old Wu got up swiftly.
"Old Wu, are you hungry?"
"Director Fan, you too? It’s so late—doubt there’s anywhere still open."
Seeing Fan Juan already dressed and ready, he realized she meant to go out.
"I asked around. There’s a street nearby that’s lively at this hour. Since we’re here to assess the market, why not take a look? And grab a bite while we’re at it."
Old Wu agreed immediately, shutting his door and following Fan Juan downstairs.
Following the front desk clerk’s directions, they didn’t have to search long—the noise and the smell of food led them straight to the bustling night market.
"Wow, this place is packed! Bright lights, loud music—do these people never sleep?"
Old Wu was stunned.
"With crowds like this, how do the local authorities keep things under control?"
Fan Juan couldn’t help voicing her surprise. Back in Beijing, the streets would be silent by now.
Most of the crowd were young men and women dressed in bold, colorful outfits, chatting in local dialect or accented Mandarin—some of which Fan Juan and Old Wu could piece together.
"It’s like a night bazaar—so many stalls selling food, clothes, and entertainment."
Old Wu shielded Fan Juan as they moved through the crowd. Someone whistled at her, but a sharp look from Old Wu shut them up.
Fan Juan didn’t go far. Spotting a stall selling wonton noodles, she pointed and motioned for Old Wu to join her for a bite.
