Fortune Comes to My House This Year

Yinghai City

Zhang Zhaohai put down his phone, his expression unusually excited and thrilled.

Just moments ago, his son Zhang Yang had sent a message saying the raw stone had been sold for 3.5 million, and he had even shown him the cigarettes and alcohol he had bought for him.

"Good lad, wasting money like that." Zhang Zhaohai rubbed his hands together, unable to hold back a laugh.

Three point five million! Hahaha, good fortune had truly arrived at their doorstep!

Why were he and Zhang Yang's mother still at this age, racking their brains every day to earn money, pinching pennies here and saving a bit there?

For no other reason than that their eldest son had yet to settle any of life's major milestones, and old Zhang couldn't even sleep soundly at night.

The burden of the parental generation!

Fortunately, the heavens were merciful, granting them this life-changing opportunity.

Three point five million wouldn't exactly make them wealthy, but it could solve their problems regarding a house, a car, and savings all at once. Besides, neither of them had retired yet; if they worked hard for a few more years, and with their son still young and not about to just lie flat, he would continue to earn as well.

By that calculation, wasn't their family like a raging fire cooking oil, flourishing by the day?

Thinking of this, Zhang Zhaohai couldn't help but pull out a cigarette, light it with satisfaction, and feel absolutely wonderful.

The sound of the door opening suddenly came from outside. Zhang Zhaohai was startled, his conditioned reflex telling him to stub it out first and relight it later.

"Old Zhang." It was Song Wenqin who had returned. "Old Zhang, where are you?"

"I'm on the balcony!" Zhang Zhaohai replied, opening the window.

Song Wenqin walked onto the balcony, sniffed the air, and immediately frowned, muttering, "Smoking in the house again. I've told you how many times and you never listen. It's already smoky enough in the kitchen; do you even care about your health?"

For the sake of Zhang Zhaohai's health, Song Wenqin launched into a stern reprimand without the slightest hesitation.

Knowing he was in the wrong, Zhang Zhaohai hurriedly made promises to his wife while organizing his words, preparing to tell her all about Zhang Yang selling the raw stone for 3.5 million.

Unexpectedly, right in the middle of things, Song Wenqin let out a long sigh.

"My sister-in-law refuses to lend us the money."

Zhang Zhaohai froze, suddenly remembering the matter he had almost forgotten.

He was a chef by trade, but for the past few years, he had been working as a sous-chef at his brother-in-law's restaurant, though his pay wasn't much higher than anyone else's.

He had always wanted to open a small restaurant of his own. He had already scouted a location—a storefront on the perimeter of a newly completed residential complex nearby. With numerous construction sites in the area, he figured a place serving home-style stir-fries wouldn't struggle for business.

However, when the couple crunched the numbers, they were still short on cash, so Song Wenqin had wanted to ask her brother, Song Wenbo, for a temporary loan.

After all, when Song Wenbo first opened this restaurant, they had lent him money. Once things were on the right track, Zhang Zhaohai had worked his heart out in the kitchen, saving Song Wenbo a great deal of trouble.

He truly hadn't expected that something so certain could be flatly refused by his brother-in-law's family.

Zhang Zhaohai opened his mouth, nearly cursing out loud, but held back for Song Wenqin's sake.

"Ungrateful wretches! To think I gave up my own schooling so he could go, and whenever there was something good, I didn't eat it so he could!" Song Wenqin, however, cursed without any restraint.

The bond between siblings was fine, but that was only before they had families of their own. Once they did, they naturally developed their own selfish interests.

Furthermore, she had long since found her sister-in-law to be an eyesore.

"This... if they won't lend it, then forget it. As it happens, I have something to tell you." Zhang Zhaohai smiled, brushing it off.

If they wouldn't lend it, so be it. Was he really going to be short those few digits?

"What is it?" Song Wenqin, her anger not yet subsided, sat down and downed a glass of water. "You say don't borrow, but if we don't borrow, where will the money come from for us to open the shop?"

"Don't be anxious or angry, come, come, let me tell you..." Zhang Zhaohai pulled Song Wenqin down to sit, then carefully organized his words.

Ten minutes later, a burst of excited cheers erupted within the hundred-square-meter apartment.

"Such good luck! Is it real or fake?!" Song Wenqin grabbed Zhang Zhaohai's arm, her face full of disbelief.

"It's absolutely true. I even took photos of the raw stone, take a look." Zhang Zhaohai showed her the pictures. "The kid was lucky, and he had guts. You tell me, how did he dare to spend all his savings just to gamble on a possibility?"

"It's a good thing the gamble paid off." Song Wenqin let out a long breath of relief. "The house we looked at a while ago—I think we can finalize it once Zhang Yang gets back."

Zhang Zhaohai cleared his throat. "About that, Wenqin, I don't really want to work for your brother anymore."

He had always treated them like family, helping to keep an eye on the kitchen's accounts and preventing who knows how many losses, only to be treated without a shred of consideration in the end.

To hell with it then. Even if they didn't open a shop, finding a job at any random restaurant would be far more relaxed and free than staying here.

"If you don't want to work there, then don't." Song Wenqin nodded.

Working under a relative wasn't exactly easy either; they might as well take this opportunity to leave.

Early the next morning, Zhang Zhaohai went to the restaurant as usual.

As soon as he walked in, he ran into his brother-in-law, Song Wenbo.

"Brother-in-law." Song Wenbo offered a dry laugh as he came over to greet him. "My sister told me about yesterday, but you know how it is. My restaurant looks like it's doing well, but I'm carrying a lot of debt. It's tough!"

Zhang Zhaohai waved his hand. "It's fine, I know you have your difficulties. Let's not talk about that. Actually, I have something to tell you, too."

Song Wenbo was stunned. "Brother-in-law, you... what else is there?"

"I'm getting on in years, and working in the kitchen every day is taking its toll. I plan to finish out the month, so you'd better hurry up and find a new chef!" Zhang Zhaohai said with a wave.

"What?!" Song Wenbo's expression changed instantly. "Brother-in-law, you can't do this. Just because I didn't lend you the money? You know how busy we've been lately..."

Zhang Zhaohai let out a cold snort in his heart. What an ungrateful wretch. To put it bluntly, with the May Day holiday approaching, they couldn't do without him; if it were the off-season, he'd like to see how they'd fare.

"That doesn't sound very pleasant, as if I did this on purpose..." Zhang Zhaohai waved his hand and walked straight into the kitchen.

Watching Zhang Zhaohai's retreating figure, Song Wenbo's expression shifted rapidly.

Downstairs at the restaurant, a BMW 5 Series pulled up slowly, and a well-groomed woman stepped out of the car and walked into the establishment.

The staff members in the restaurant all greeted her as "Boss Lady" upon seeing her.

This woman was none other than Song Wenbo's wife and Zhang Yang's youngest aunt, Zhou Xiaona.

"Song Wenbo, your brother-in-law is here, right?" Zhou Xiaona found Song Wenbo and cast a glance toward the kitchen.

"He's here, in the kitchen," Song Wenbo replied sullenly.

"What's wrong? Why so listless? What did he say when he came over?" Zhou Xiaona frowned immediately and asked.

"He's quitting, says he's leaving in a couple of days," Song Wenbo said irritably. "I should have just lent the money to my sister. It's all your fault for insisting on stopping me."

"Look at how spineless you are, letting him threaten you like that?!" Zhou Xiaona launched into a scathing dressing-down.