Everyone's been reborn, so who would bother finding a wife on their own?

The fat policeman was still being stubborn before he was put into the car.

He twisted his body, turned around and shouted at Xiao Haifeng, "Director, it's a misunderstanding, it's really a misunderstanding."

Xiao Haifeng didn't look at him, walked over, and stood in front of the old man.

"Sir, if you encounter something like this in the future, call the municipal police supervision hotline."

He took a business card out of his pocket and handed it over.

The old man took it, his fingers still trembling, and clutched the business card tightly in his hand.

"Thank you, thank you, Director."

Xiao Haifeng nodded, turned around, and looked at Song Huan and Xiao Yunqing.

What are you doing here?

Just as Xiao Yunqing was about to excitedly talk about starting a business, Song Huan spoke first, "Let's go out for a stroll."

Xiao Haifeng said, "You should go back early and not stay out too late."

Xiao Yunqing hummed in agreement.

Song Huan nodded as well.

Xiao Haifeng had other things to attend to, so he left first.

After getting into the car and closing the door, the black sedan slowly drove out of the street corner, with a police car following behind, its roof light still flashing, but without its siren on.

The convoy turned the corner and disappeared.

Song Huan and Xiao Yunqing exchanged a glance.

Both of them breathed a sigh of relief, a very heavy sigh, their shoulders slumping.

The store was a complete mess.

The counter was tilted, the shelves were overturned, and pens, notebooks, and folders were scattered all over the floor.

The old man bent over and picked up the things on the ground one by one.

Song Huan walked over, squatted down, and helped him pick it up.

Xiao Yunqing also squatted down, gathered the scattered pens together, and put them into the pen holder.

The three of them spent almost half an hour picking things up, straightening the shelves, putting the items back, and sweeping the floor clean.

The old man straightened up, looking at the neatly restored shop, his eyes still red.

Song Huan took the contract out of her pocket and handed it over, "Grandpa, can we sign the contract now?"

The old man looked at him and smiled.

That smile was different from before; it wasn't a bitter smile, nor a sigh, it was a genuine smile.

He picked up the pen and signed his name on the contract, his handwriting neat and precise.

Song Huan took it, glanced at it, and looked up at Xiao Yunqing.

Xiao Yunqing was also looking at him.

The two of them laughed at the same time.

"The last piece..." Song Huan said.

Xiao Yunqing nodded.

"The puzzle is complete!"

……

The next day, the newspaper was delivered to my door.

Song Wentao sat on the sofa, holding a teacup and flipping through the newspaper.

The front page, with large, bold font, took up half the page.

"The Municipal Public Security Bureau is cracking down on misconduct among police officers. Xiao Haifeng said: Anyone who seeks special treatment will be investigated."

Editor-in-Chief: Song Wentao.

He turned a page of the newspaper, drank his tea, and then turned another page.

Song Huan came out of the room and glanced at the newspaper as she passed the coffee table.

Xiao Yunqing was waiting for him downstairs; he didn't have time to read the newspaper.

The card customization factory is located outside the city, a 40-minute drive away.

The bus swayed along the road led by Xiao Yunqing, and the buildings outside the window gradually became shorter, turning into factories and then into open spaces.

As Song Huan got off the bus, she looked at the gray building in front of her, with a sign hanging at the entrance that read "So-and-so Card Factory".

The iron gate was closed, but there was a small door next to it. Inside the guardhouse sat a security guard in a gray uniform, his hat askew, looking at his phone.

Xiao Yunqing walked over and knocked on the glass window. "Master, we want to go in and find the person in charge."

The security guard looked up, glanced at her, then at Song Huan, and waved his hand.

"No, no, this is a restricted area of ​​the factory; outsiders are not allowed in."

Xiao Yunqing knocked again. "We're just asking, it'll be quick."

The security guard waved his hand again and looked down at his phone.

My innermost thoughts drifted out from the crack in the window.

[What are you two little brats doing causing trouble here?]

Song Huan pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket; it was unopened, Hongtashan brand.

He walked to the window and placed the cigarette on the windowsill.

"Sir, we're just going in to find a relative, we'll be right back out." The security guard glanced at the pack of cigarettes, then at Song Huan.

He picked up the cigarette, put it in his pocket, and pressed the door open button.

The iron gate opened.

Xiao Yunqing walked in, took two steps, stopped, turned to look at Song Huan with a suspicious expression, and asked, "Were you secretly smoking?"

Song Huan was both amused and exasperated.

"If I carry cigarettes, does that mean I smoke? What about if I carry a lighter? Does that mean I'll start a fire?"

Xiao Yunqing stared at him for two seconds, snorted, and turned back to continue walking.

Song Huan followed behind, took the lighter out of his pocket, and quietly stuffed it deep into his trouser pocket.

The factory area is very large, with several rows of single-story buildings, and the sound of machines humming out from inside.

They asked around and searched all the way, walking through corridors piled with cardboard boxes and turning two corners before finally finding the office.

The door was open, and inside sat a middle-aged man, bald, wearing glasses, looking at documents.

Song Huan knocked on the door. The person in charge looked up, glanced at the two children at the door, and frowned.

"What is it?"

Song Huan walked in and placed the contract on the table. "We're here to discuss cooperation and order a batch of cards."

The person in charge glanced at the contract, then at him, and smiled.

How much do you want to order?

Song Huan said, "The first batch is five hundred sheets."

The person in charge pushed the contract back and leaned back in his chair. "Five hundred sheets. Even if it's one yuan per sheet, that's only five hundred yuan. My production line is already booked until next month. It's not worth opening a new line for such a small amount."

He lowered his head and continued reading the documents.

My thoughts drifted over.

[Five hundred tickets, that's profitable, but it's still too few.]

Song Huan didn't leave.

He pushed the contract back.

"Five hundred is just the first batch. More will be added later, and the number will be updated every semester. This semester it's five hundred, next semester it might be a thousand, and the semester after that it's two thousand."

The person in charge stopped writing.

He looked up at Song Huan.

Song Huan stood there, his expression calm, not like he was bragging.

The person in charge looked at him for a few seconds, took off his reading glasses, took the contract, and read it through from beginning to end.

He put his glasses back on and looked at it again. "Does your card have a design sketch?"

Song Huan took a piece of paper out of her pocket, unfolded it, and laid it on the table.

The card is the same size as a bank card.

The front features the logo of the Food Alliance, which he designed. It consists of a few simple lines arranged to form the shape of a bowl and a pair of chopsticks.

The back of the card has a map that marks all the shops near the school that have signed contracts, marked with red dots and the shop names next to them.

The overall design has a light blue base, which is clean and refreshing.

The person in charge looked at the design drawing for a long time. "Did you draw this yourself?"

Song Huan nodded.

The person in charge glanced at it again, put down the design drawing, picked up a pen, and signed his name on the contract.

Stand up and extend your hand.

"It's a pleasure to work with you." Song Huan shook hands briefly; her hand wasn't large, but it gripped the grip firmly.

Xiao Yunqing stood to the side, looking at the design drawing for several seconds.

She turned her head to look at Song Huan, then glanced at the picture.

The design is quite nice, clean, and refreshing, which is very suitable for students.

I don't know where he got it from.

The person in charge put the contract away and said that they would arrange to make a sample tomorrow and notify them when the sample was ready.

Song Huan nodded and turned to walk out.

Xiao Yunqing followed behind, took a few steps, and then looked back at the design drawing.

The background is light blue, the store logo is red, and it looks clean and tidy.

She turned back and followed Song Huan. The two walked out of the factory area, the sunlight shining down from above, making them feel dizzy.

The bus hadn't arrived yet, and there were only the two of them on the platform.

Standing next to Song Huan, Xiao Yunqing asked, "I didn't realize you had artistic talent. When did you draw that picture?"

"Last night," Song Huan said.

"How late will you finish drawing?"

"Around two or three o'clock."

Xiao Yunqing remained silent.

Song Huan didn't tell her that the drawing wasn't designed by her, but rather a combination of several patterns found online, which she then traced onto the computer screen.

Anyway, it's just a small-scale operation, who would care about copyright issues?

Even if someone comes to cause trouble, Song Huan simply says, "I'll compensate you for the card."

The bus arrived, the two boarded, and found seats in the back.

The car swayed and rocked, and the factory buildings outside the window gradually became shorter, then trees, then buildings.

Xiao Yunqing leaned against the window, looking outside.

After watching for a while, he suddenly said something.

"The scenery here is quite beautiful."

Song Huan turned to look at her, but she didn't look at him; she was looking out the window.

Sunlight streamed in through the glass, falling brightly on her face.