Hard work after winning the lottery

"Come on! Why aren't you coming!"

Zhou Yinchuan's answer was resolute and without the slightest hesitation.

"Since you've already spoken, how could I not give you face?!"

He paused, as if he was already planning his itinerary.

"Wait for me! I'll sort out this little mess and come over in a few days!"

"I want to see for myself whether your Baixi Village is really as good as you say!"

"Let me see if your three precious great-grandchildren are really that clever!"

"good!"

Hua Mutou slapped his thigh and stood up excitedly.

"We're waiting for you! The whole village is waiting for you!"

"The wine is ready for you! The lamb is roasted for you! Just come and you're all set!"

After hanging up the phone, Hua Mutou stood there, still holding the receiver, unable to stop smiling.

It was a heartfelt, pure joy.

Seeing this, Hua Shu, who was in the yard, quickly came in. "Dad, Uncle Zhou... he agreed?"

"I agree!"

Hua Mutou nodded vigorously, slammed the receiver back onto the phone with a loud "snap," and spoke in a clear voice.

He said he'd be here in a few days!

"Very good!"

Meanwhile, the Zhou family's old residence is located a thousand miles away.

In the study, Zhou Yinchuan hung up the phone but remained seated for a long time.

He paced back and forth in his study, which was covered with a thick carpet, with his hands behind his back.

Outside the window is a meticulously manicured garden, so quiet that only the sound of the wind can be heard.

But his mind was filled with Hua Mutou's vibrant descriptions.

The crystal-clear Baixi Lake, the brightly lit country roads, the bustling and lively roast lamb restaurant...

And that chubby-faced kid, the one who looks like a glutinous rice ball...

Vivid images flashed before his eyes.

It was a fresh, warm, earthy scent that he hadn't felt in a long time.

He stopped and glanced at the family photo on the desk.

In the photo, the son and daughter-in-law are stationed at their company abroad year-round, and the grandson, Zhou Yanjin, seems to have grown up at the company.

This mansion is magnificent, yet desolate.

A strong desire welled up from the bottom of his heart.

He also wanted to go and see.

Look at that place called Baixi Village, look at the home that makes Huamutou so proud.

No.

He needs to make arrangements quickly.

A soldier-like decisiveness flashed in Zhou Yinchuan's eyes.

He picked up another phone on the table, already having an idea in mind.

We need to find his most capable grandson to handle this matter.

tomorrow.

Tomorrow morning, I'll have a good talk with Zhou Yanjin about visiting my old comrade-in-arms.

The thought of seeing his old brother again and witnessing that paradise with his own eyes filled Zhou Yinchuan with a deep sense of anticipation, which stirred up ripples in his long-dormant heart.

The next day.

The top floor of the Zhou Group, the president's office.

The huge floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city's prosperity, and the sky looks like a spotless blue pane of glass.

However, Zhou Yanjin, the owner of the office, had no time to appreciate it.

He had just finished a transoceanic video conference, and a lingering trace of fatigue still remained between his brows.

The internal telephone on the table rang at this inopportune moment.

Zhou Yanjin pressed the speakerphone button, and the chief secretary, Ying Zhiyao's, capable and calm voice came through.

"President, it's a call from the old mansion. The old man wants you to come home for dinner tonight, saying he has something important to discuss."

"be sure?"

Zhou Yanjin's fingertips tapped lightly on the smooth tabletop, a word that surprised him somewhat.

Grandpa never liked to interfere with his work.

"Yes."

"understood."

Zhou Yanjin hung up the phone, leaned back in the large leather seat, and rubbed his temples with his slender fingers.

He looked up and gazed at the jungle of steel and concrete outside the window.

Important matters?

What could be so important that Grandpa would use the word "must"?

As evening falls, the city lights begin to twinkle.

In the dining room of the Zhou family's old house, a crystal chandelier casts a dazzling yet soft glow, illuminating the long mahogany dining table until it shines like a mirror.

Expensive silver cutlery, dishes so exquisite they resemble works of art, and a lavish atmosphere.

Everything here exudes a cold, formulaic sophistication.

A phone call from the old man forcibly dragged Zhou Yanjin back from the mountain of documents to this magnificent yet empty cage.

The atmosphere at dinner was as somber as ever.

Until Zhou Yinchuan, sitting in the main seat, slowly finished the last sip of soup.

He put down the white porcelain spoon, the bottom of the spoon striking the rim of the bowl with a crisp sound.

In this restaurant where you could hear a pin drop, that crisp sound seemed like a signal.

Zhou Yinchuan's gaze passed over the dining table and landed directly on his most prized grandson.

His eyes no longer held their usual majesty, but instead carried a rare, almost pleasurable, emotion.

"Yan Jin".

The old man spoke, his voice as loud and clear as ever.

"An old comrade-in-arms of mine... a friend I've been through thick and thin with invited me to stay in his hometown for a few days."

There was a hint of longing in his tone.

He emphasized the words "a friendship forged in life and death" with extreme force.

Zhou Yanjin put down the silver chopsticks in her hand.

The tips of the chopsticks touched the bone china chopstick rest without making a sound.

His movements were steady, but his eyes already showed a hint of concern.

"Grandpa, where does your comrade-in-arms live?"

His question was direct and hit the nail on the head.

Is it remote?

Is the transportation convenient?

A series of questions, without any hesitation, precisely revealed his primary considerations—safety and convenience.

The old man is quite old, and in his view, any slight bump in the journey is a risk that needs to be strictly assessed.

Zhou Yinchuan was very satisfied with his grandson's reaction.

This kid always knows where the important part is.

His smile deepened, tinged with a hint of lingering satisfaction.

"It's not far, just in a village in a neighboring province."

He tried hard to recall the name that his old comrade had described countless times with immense pride.

"It's called... Baixi Village."

Baixi Village?

These two words are like a pebble thrown into a deep pool of memory, stirring up a barely perceptible ripple.

Zhou Yanjin's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

This name... I feel like I've heard it somewhere before.

It definitely didn't come from Grandpa.

It's a commercial, familiar feeling, with assessments and data.

His slender fingers unconsciously tapped lightly on the tablecloth covered with the finest silk.

One moment, one moment.

It's like knocking on the door of memory.

A thought flashed through his mind like lightning.

correct!

A report.

An evaluation report on potential rural tourism projects.

That was a thick stack of documents submitted by the Investment and Development Department last quarter.

He only skimmed through it at the time, but he was somewhat impressed by a few of the items that were marked as S-level.

And on the cover of one of the projects, these three words seemed to be printed—

Baixi Village.

The report gave it a very high rating: superior original environment, distinctive local characteristics, strong sense of village self-governance, and extremely high commercial development potential.