A leisurely life starting in a bar after being reborn

On the way to the airport, Liu Meilan suddenly said, "Xiaoyan, your uncle's family lives in Changwei city. Don't you want to go visit them?"

Before Fu Yan could speak, Liu Meilan shook her head and said, "Forget it, I'm not going."

Fu Jianguo remained silent in the passenger seat.

The atmosphere inside the car suddenly became heavy.

Fu Yan knew about this past event.

My maternal uncle, Liu Guijin, is Liu Meilan's older brother. He owned a food processing factory in his early years and was quite successful in Changwei. He was the wealthiest among all our relatives. When I was a child, my maternal uncle's family was always the most extravagant during holidays—they gave the biggest red envelopes, the most New Year's gifts, and ate at the most expensive restaurants.

But Liu Guijin changed once he got rich.

When Fu Yan's maternal grandparents were alive, Liu Guijin would come back to visit every few days. Her maternal grandfather passed away five years ago, and her maternal grandmother passed away last year. Liu Guijin is like a kite with a broken string; she has never contacted anyone here since.

It wasn't that Fu Yan's family and his aunt's family didn't want to contact them, but rather that they couldn't—Liu Guijin had changed his phone number, moved, and didn't even return to his old house for the New Year. Zhao Chunhua had once run into Liu Guijin's wife on the street, but she walked away without even saying hello.

When Liu Meilan mentioned this older brother, she felt resentment, but even more so, she felt heartbroken.

"What's the use of him being so rich? He doesn't even acknowledge his own sister." Liu Meilan's voice was soft, as if she were talking to herself. "He didn't even come back when Mom passed away..."

Fu Jianguo patted her hand: "Don't think about it anymore."

"I didn't think about it, I just felt... never mind, I won't say anything more."

Fu Yan sat in the back seat, looking out at the streets of Changwei, without saying a word.

He originally wanted to leave some money for his eldest uncle's family as well—fifty thousand yuan, the same as his youngest uncle's family. But Liu Meilan stopped him, saying there was no need to give any, and that they wouldn't appreciate it; instead, they would feel like they were humiliating their family.

Fu Yan thought about it and realized that his mother was right.

Some relationships cannot be repaired with money.

……

Upon arriving at Changwei Tingzhou International Airport, the family split into two groups in the waiting hall.

Fu Jianguo, Liu Meilan, and Fu Xiao's flight was back to Bincheng, while Fu Yan's flight was a direct flight to Yanjing.

"Aren't you coming back with us?" Liu Meilan asked, somewhat surprised.

"No, something's come up in Yanjing. The bar's renovations are finished, and I have to go back and oversee it."

"Then you'll be alone..."

"Mom, I'm thirty-one. Can you please stop treating me like a child?" Fu Yan smiled helplessly.

Liu Meilan hesitated for a moment, then finally said only, "Then take good care of yourself and eat on time."

"understood."

Fu Xiaochong waved to him: "Brother, text me when you arrive!"

"OK."

Fu Jianguo stood beside him and patted Fu Yan on the shoulder, exactly the same gesture his grandfather had made earlier—this was the way the men in this family expressed their feelings, passed down from generation to generation: patting someone on the shoulder.

"Go."

"Um."

……

It was already dark when the plane landed in Yanjing.

January in Beijing was even colder than in Dalian. The wind blowing from the tarmac at the Capital Airport carried a dry, dusty smell. Fu Yan wrapped his coat tighter and hailed a taxi straight to Houhai.

Instead of returning to the hotel, he had the driver take him directly to Yandai Xiejie (Yandai Xiejie Street).

Fu Yan lived in Yanjing for four years while pursuing his undergraduate degree, and he knew Houhai like the back of his hand—he could find every alleyway, every restaurant, and every quiet corner with his eyes closed. But this time, his return was different; he now had a place of his own.

The courtyard house is located deep in Yandai Xiejie. It has two courtyards, and a new antique-style wall lamp has been installed at the entrance. The warm yellow light shines on the gray brick wall, giving people a sense of belonging.

Fu Yan was stunned when he pushed open the newly painted red wooden door.

The courtyard has changed.

The once overgrown brick floor has been replaced with bluestone slabs, and in the center stands a preserved old locust tree—Qiu Kai had it specially maintained, with its branches pruned, and a stone table and benches placed beneath it. The exterior walls of the main house and side rooms have been repainted, retaining the original color of the gray bricks, but looking clean and neat. All the windows have been replaced with double-glazed windows, preserving the style of the old-fashioned wooden frames while ensuring insulation and soundproofing.

To Fu Yan's surprise, the lights in the main room were on.

He pushed open the door and went in, and a wave of warmth hit him.

The living room furniture is all in place—a dark brown leather sofa, a solid wood coffee table, a 42-inch LCD TV, and a Braun sound system. A traditional Chinese ink painting hangs on the wall, depicting the Yinding Bridge over Houhai Lake; I don't know who chose it, but they have good taste.

The kitchen is fully equipped with a refrigerator, oven, and dishwasher; the refrigerator is even stocked with beer, milk, and fruit.

The bed in the bedroom was newly made, the quilt was fluffy and soft, and there was an open notebook next to the pillow.

Fu Yan picked up the notebook and glanced at it—it was Lin Xiaochen's handwriting, neatly listing the completed renovations, move-in instructions, and a new page of content:

"The bar's renovations are complete. Qiu Kai has finished training all staff, and the menu and drink list are finalized. We are ready to open. Please decide on the opening date."

Fu Yan closed his laptop and sat down on the sofa in the living room.

The room was extremely quiet, with only the occasional gurgling sound of water flowing from the radiator. Outside the window, the old locust tree swayed gently in the wind, its branches casting shadows on the gauze curtains like a flowing ink painting.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

There was a faint scent of wood in the air—the smell of new furniture, a hint of the dryness of the heating, and a subtle, indescribable odor of an old house.

These flavors mixed together create the taste of "home".

Fu Yan took out his phone and sent Lin Xiaochen a text message:

See you at the bar tomorrow morning at 10 AM.

Then he sent another message to Fu Xiao:

"We've arrived in Yanjing. Everything went smoothly."

Fu Xiao replied instantly: "Brother! Bincheng is so cold! I want to go back to Yanjing!"

Fu Yan smiled, put her phone on the coffee table, leaned back on the sofa, and looked at the warm yellow chandelier on the ceiling.

It's been seven years since I traveled from 2001 to now.

Seven years ago, he went from a middle-aged corporate slave who died suddenly to a 24-year-old international student, carrying the memories and knowledge of two lifetimes. He worked desperately to make money in Silicon Valley, accumulating enough capital for the rest of his life, and then returned to China—to live the life he wanted, take care of his family, treat his friends and those who were good to him kindly, and cherish those who loved him…

and then?

Then it's about living a happy and sweet life.

Fu Yan suddenly found it a little funny. In his past life, he desperately wanted to retire, but now that he's retired, he realizes that retirement is not the end, but the beginning.

You need a place where someone is waiting for you to come back, a light is on for you, and a bed where you can sleep soundly.

Now he has it.

Yandai Xiejie (Yandai Slanting Street), a two-courtyard house, and an old locust tree.

Home.

Fu Yan sat on the sofa for ten minutes, then got up and went to the bedroom.

He drew the curtains, took off his coat, and crawled into bed.

The bedding was new, but someone had dried it beforehand; it was warm and cozy, as if someone was waiting for him.

He set an alarm on his phone for 9:30 a.m. tomorrow.

Then turn off the lights.

Outside the window, the night at Houhai is quiet and gentle. In the distance, the faint sound of music from the bar street drifts in; the deep bass lines weave through the alleyways like a slow lullaby.

Fu Yan closed his eyes.

This was the most peaceful night he had slept since returning to China, except when he was at home.