A leisurely life starting in a bar after being reborn

Zhang Fan was inwardly very excited, but he didn't show it on his face—not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. He knew Fu Yan all too well: the more eager you seemed, the more suspicious he became; the calmer you were, the more reliable he thought you were.

"Xiao Fu," Chen Yanpeng began, his tone tinged with a hint of感慨 (gan3kai3, a complex emotion encompassing regret, regret, and sympathy), "to be honest, your terms are a little embarrassing. A $500 million investment, and you don't even want a board seat?"

"I own a bar, why would I be a director? I don't even look at the bar's accounts."

"That's true, money's no object," Chen Yanpeng chuckled. "However, it's a real shame to waste your talent in Houhai."

"It's not a pity. I earn money so that I can live without earning money."

Li Hui pushed up her glasses: "I need to write this down and post it on my office wall when I get back."

"Post it anywhere, no need to pay me copyright fees."

Everyone laughed.

Despite the laughter, Fu Yan could tell that Chen Yanpeng and Li Hui were genuinely happy.

Their joy wasn't the smug satisfaction of "making a profit," but rather the reassurance of "making the right bet." They were betting on Fu Yan—a man who could withdraw at the peak of shorting subprime mortgages, a man who would rather open a bar than continue playing the capital game—his agreement to join the game itself proved one thing: this new company was worth investing in.

"But there's one thing I need to say beforehand," Fu Yan added, "You can bring me into this, but don't go around telling everyone. I don't want people in the Chinese investment community to know I'm involved in your project."

"Why?" Li Hui asked.

"Because I don't want fund managers waiting outside my bar every day to hand me business plans."

Zhang Fan almost spat out his tea.

-

By the time the matter was finished, it was already dark.

Zhang Fan had dinner prepared—not extravagant, but exquisite. Yanjiao Manor has a dedicated chef who cooks Huaiyang cuisine, which is light in flavor and suitable for investors like him who often suffer from stomach bleeding from socializing.

The four of them sat around the dining table, no longer talking about work, but chatting about random things—old stories from America, bizarre startups in Silicon Valley, anecdotes from Wall Street, who got divorced, whose child got into an Ivy League school…

Chen Yanpeng recounted the most outrageous business plan he had ever seen in Silicon Valley: a Stanford PhD student wanted to create an "Internet-based pet emotion translator" that could translate cat meows and dog barks into human language.

"How much did he raise?" Fu Yan asked.

"Two and a half million US dollars."

"...Really?"

"Really. Sequoia Capital America invested in it."

Fu Yan paused for three seconds: "I suddenly feel like my bar isn't so bad after all."

The people at the table laughed so hard they were doubled over.

……

After dinner, at the entrance of the manor.

Chen Yanpeng's car left first—his Mercedes S600 headed straight for the Capital Airport; he had a flight to Shanghai that evening, where a project was waiting for him. Before leaving, he shook hands with Fu Yan: "Xiao Fu, come visit Shanghai sometime, I'll treat you to some local Shanghai cuisine."

"it is good."

Li Hui also left, in a Lexus LS, heading to the airport—he was flying to Shenzhen, where a merger and acquisition project had reached a crucial stage. His handshake with Fu Yan was a little lighter than before, but his eyes were more serious: "Fu Yan, it's been a pleasure working with you."

"It's a pleasure working with you."

Two luxury cars drove out of the manor gate one after the other, their taillights gradually fading into the night before disappearing into the shadows of the poplar trees.

Only Zhang Fan and Fu Yan remained standing under the porch.

"Yanzi." Zhang Fan handed him a cigarette.

Fu Yan waved his hand: "I've given it up."

When did you quit?

"I've abstained for over a day."

After listening, Zhang Fan nodded at first, then understood what Fu Yan meant, and rolled his eyes at him. Since Fu Yan didn't smoke, he lit one himself, took a deep drag, and the red glow of the cigarette butt flickered in the darkness.

"Thank you," he said.

"Why are you thanking me?"

"Thank you for trusting me."

Fu Yan glanced at him: "It's not that I trust you, it's that I trust my own judgment. Anyone who can become my friend is someone I can trust."

"That also shows they trust me."

"Say what you want."

Zhang Fan smiled and exhaled a puff of smoke: "I promise I won't let you down."

"If you disappoint me, I'll buy your estate and turn it into a parking lot and a vegetable garden."

"...Is this a threat?"

"This is your fate if you don't succeed."

Zhang Fan smiled and shook his head, patting Fu Yan on the shoulder: "Alright, go back now, your bar should be bustling with activity right now."

"Okay. I'm leaving."

Fu Yan got into the A8, and Zhao Gang started the car and slowly drove out of the manor.

In the rearview mirror, Zhang Fan stood under the porch, the red glow of the cigarette butt growing smaller and smaller until it became a bright spot that blended into the manor's lights.

-

It was almost 10 o'clock when we got back to Houhai.

The neon lights of "Homecoming" shone in the night, their warm yellow glow spilling through the glass windows onto the blue brick walls. Faint music could be heard coming from inside; it was the second performance of the jazz band, Black Cat.

Fu Yan pushed open the door and went in.

The bar was about half full, not packed, but doing good business. Qiu Kai was directing the waiters to serve drinks at the bar, Zhou Lei was mixing a rather complicated-looking cocktail, and the Black Cat Band was playing their music at a leisurely pace on stage.

Qin Manni is not here—she wasn't scheduled to work today and is probably still at school.

Fu Yan walked to his corner and sat down. Zhou Lei, with his sharp eyes, brought him a cup of "Houhai Morning Mist" before he could even speak.

"Brother Fu, the usual."

Thanks.

He picked up his glass, leaned back in his chair, and looked around the bar—

Amidst the clinking of glasses, soft laughter, flickering candlelight, and gentle music, the atmosphere was vibrant and lively.

The scene was the same as last night, but his feelings were different this time.

Just hours before, he was at his estate in Yanjiao, discussing deals worth hundreds of millions with investment tycoons; a few hours later, he was sitting in his bar, sipping an alcoholic coffee and watching others drink.

Xu Wenshu won't be back tonight—she sent a text message saying she was going shopping and having dinner with colleagues and would be staying at her apartment that night. Fu Yan replied with "Be careful" and didn't say anything more.

This is how the two of them get along after they get together: neither of them clings to the other, they each have their own things to do, but they both have each other in their hearts.

Good.

Fu Yan picked up his wine glass and slowly took a sip.

The bitterness of coffee, the creamy aroma of Baileys, the warmth of whiskey—it's still the same taste.

He brought the glass to his eyes, looking at the bar lights through the dark brown liquor. Everything became hazy and soft, like a dream that hadn't yet ended.

They invested $5 million without hesitation.

In his previous life, how many years would he have had to work at Huayin Fund to reach such a large number?

And now, he didn't even lift his eyelids.

In your past life, you worked hard but didn't live to enjoy it; in this life, you work hard to earn enough so you can retire.

This is the right way.

Fu Yan put down his glass and beckoned to Zhou Lei, "Give me another one, this time without coffee, pure whiskey."

"Brother Fu, are you in a different mood today?"

"Yeah, let's celebrate a bit."

"What are we celebrating?"

Fu Yan thought for a moment and said, "Let's celebrate that I've found another reason not to go to work."

Zhou Lei looked bewildered, but he was already used to Fu Yan's incomprehensible words, so he turned around and went to pour the whiskey.

The ice cubes in the glass clinked gently, making a crisp sound.

The Houhai Lake outside the window was quietly lit up in the night, and the lingering shadows of lanterns were reflected on the lake surface, like a group of lost fireflies.

Fu Yan picked up the pure whiskey, faced the night outside the window, and gently touched the glass to the side.

"Cheers."

With whom?

With yourself.