Chapter Fifty-Five: Fangfang’s Sisters

“Hua Jiang, it’s lucky you were here today. Otherwise, I would’ve been in big trouble.” Only after seeing Chen Huajiang drive off Laizi’s gang did Lin Guoshan emerge from the shop, his face full of relief.

Though Lin had spoken loudly and appeared angry and unyielding earlier, it was all just a front fueled by indignation. If it had really come to blows, he wouldn’t have dared fight those street thugs.

“It’s nothing. They’re just small fry. Give it a few years and they’ll all end up doing hard labor in factories anyway,” Chen Huajiang replied indifferently with a wave of his hand, turning to head back into the shop to see if anything else needed preparing.

“Uh…” Lin Guoshan was left bewildered, unable to react for quite some time.

“What’s going on? Why is my brother-in-law even speaking up for those troublemakers?” Lin muttered to himself. In his mind, working in a factory was a solid, lifelong job, so he thought Chen Huashan must be confused to say such a thing, speaking up for the very thugs who’d caused a scene.

After all, the wave of layoffs had yet to arrive, and the urban-rural divide was at its peak. Though Lin Guoshan knew full well that running a shop was more profitable than working a regular job, he still felt a tinge of inferiority, as if leaving the match factory had demoted him to a lower status.

He couldn’t possibly understand that Chen Huajiang’s comment about factory labor foreshadowed a bleak future for countless workers yet to come.

After bustling around the shop, Chen Huajiang began to explain some finer details to his brother-in-law, such as when to add water and spices to the lamb soup and how to increase table turnover.

“Guohua, I’ve brought my friends to support your business!” Just as Chen Huajiang was about to head home, a lively, bell-like female voice sounded from outside. A moment later, three women strode in.

“Fangfang, what brings you here?” Lin Guoshan glanced awkwardly at Chen Huajiang, then went to greet her.

Chen Huajiang immediately understood: his brother-in-law had probably boasted to his girlfriend that this shop was his own. The awkwardness from earlier had been both an apology to him and a silent plea not to expose the truth in front of his girlfriend.

Chen Huajiang wasn’t a fool—he was willing to let his brother-in-law have this little bit of dignity. After all, every man likes to put on airs and act cool when courting a woman.

“It’s…not bad,” Fangfang replied.

“Fangfang, I thought your boyfriend had opened some grand establishment, but it’s just a small diner,” said one of the women who’d come in with Fangfang, both in their early twenties. They surveyed the shop with barely concealed disdain.

Their attire, though relatively fashionable for the time—a checkered ensemble, hair permed into soft waves—stood out in this simple, rustic environment.

To Chen Huajiang’s eyes, this so-called fashion was hopelessly provincial, but in an era when most women dressed plainly and wore their hair naturally, it was considered stylish.

“Ahem, well, the shop isn’t big, but what we’re really selling is our skill—the taste,” Lin Guoshan replied awkwardly, forcing a defense as he glanced at Fangfang, unwilling to lose face in front of her. Yet his words only earned more derisive snickers from the two women.

“Come on, give me a little credit, will you?” Fangfang tried to smooth things over, introducing her friends, “This is Chen Yan, and this is Cuihong. They both work at the textile mill. I specially asked them to come support your shop.”

Her tone, however, seemed more friendly to her companions than to Lin Guoshan.

“So you’re from the textile mill? I’ll get you some soup right away,” Lin Guoshan said with a smile, hurrying to serve them.

“Let me handle it, brother-in-law.” Chen Huajiang went straight to the door, prepared three bowls of lamb soup and six meat buns, and brought them over.

He’d already taken the measure of all three women, but his attention lingered on Fangfang. Chen Huajiang had long harbored doubts and curiosity: even though he’d never gotten along with Lin Guoshan in his previous life, he still remembered his wife’s name—Tian Li, not Fangfang.

Fangfang was petite, with a round face and slender eyes that hinted at tenderness, and her voice carried a coquettish lilt. By the standards of two decades hence, she’d barely score a five, given how popular sharp-featured “internet celebrity” faces would become, but here and now, her plump, round features and coy voice were seen as the height of beauty. The currently popular Zheng Lijun was of a similar look, though Fangfang’s eyes carried even more allure.

Now Chen Huajiang understood why this woman had his brother-in-law utterly enthralled.

As for their relationship, Chen Huajiang didn’t hold out much hope. If Fangfang truly cared for Lin Guoshan, would she have let her friends act so rudely?

“Mmm, this is delicious!”

“No wonder he boasted—he really does have skill.” Chen Yan and Cuihong both praised the soup, glancing at Lin Guoshan with newfound respect. At least his culinary talents matched his earlier claims.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Fangfang smiled with narrowed eyes, casting a glance at Lin Guoshan. Her eyes curved into bright crescents, making Lin Guoshan’s heart flutter as he grinned foolishly at her.

“Silly, what are you standing there for? Come sit with us,” Fangfang chided, gesturing to the chair beside her.

Grinning from ear to ear, Lin Guoshan quickly sat down next to Fangfang, his goofy smile growing wider.

Chen Huajiang watched speechlessly—his brother-in-law was clearly drowning in the sea of love.

He glanced at Fangfang, recognizing her as a formidable woman; her every gesture seemed to have Lin Guoshan wrapped around her little finger. Yet to his eyes, these were mere tricks. Love might benefit from a little playfulness, but to truly win someone’s heart for the long haul, character and values were what mattered.

In this, Fangfang fell short—she was a far cry from his own wife, Lin Miaoyin.

Still, it was his brother-in-law’s business, and Chen Huajiang had no interest in meddling.

“This must be your younger brother, right? I remember you said his name was Chen…Chen what?” Fangfang asked as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze settling on Chen Huajiang. “There’s no business right now, let him rest for a bit.”

“Chen Huajiang,” Lin Guoshan quickly supplied.

Chen Huajiang smiled and nodded at her, then sat by the door, gazing outside. The shop hadn’t officially opened yet, so of course there were no customers.

“Oh my, the handsome young man is shy! How amusing—are you afraid I’ll eat you up?” Chen Yan teased with a mischievous smile.

Women like her, who chased fashion, naturally wanted to stand out at this age, flaunting a mindset different from the ordinary. Even years later, such attitudes would persist, whether in “shamate” or “alternative” youth cultures—always a form of rebellion against monotonous lives.

Chen Huajiang had felt the same in his youth, though his current mindset was thrice his actual age.