Chapter 9: You Can’t Spend Money Recklessly

Warm sunlight streamed through the library's massive floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing Feng Nanshu in a glow that made her sleek hair and thick lashes shimmer with a faint golden hue.

She sat upright, prim and proper, quiet and well-behaved.

Her slender fingers pinched the corner of a page, flipping it gently, her lively eyes brimming with purity.

After finishing a page, she grabbed a shrimp chip, popped it into her mouth with a crunch crunch, then turned to the next one.

This cycle repeated a few times until the bag of shrimp chips gradually emptied.

When Feng Nanshu reached out again and realized it was the last piece, she looked up at Jiang Qin.

"I'm done. You finish it off."

Her eyes sparkled with quiet delight as she pinched the final chip, ate it, and flipped to the next page.

Jiang Qin stared at her for a while, realizing she wasn't joking.

She'd genuinely agreed to lend him money.

But why did it feel so absurd?

No need for an IOU?

At the very least, shouldn't she ask what it's for or when he'd pay her back?

With his 38-year-old soul, Jiang Qin figured he should see right through a pure high schooler like her. Yet he couldn't make heads or tails of Feng Nanshu's moves.

Then again, that made sense—he'd never dealt with a rich woman pre-rebirth. Not understanding wasn't surprising.

Maybe this was just how rich women rolled.

At 4:30 p.m., Feng Nanshu slipped a bookmark into her book, stood up, smoothed her skirt, and returned the book to the shelf.

She left at this exact time every day—clearly under a strict curfew.

But this time, before heading out, she paused, turned, and waved goodbye to Jiang Qin.

Not that cold after all…

Jiang Qin watched her go, then turned to the huge window. Through the glass, he could clearly see the black Bentley parked below.

The driver, wearing white gloves, had already opened the door respectfully, while the bodyguard stood by the open side, expression stern and alert.

Feng Nanshu stepped out of the library serenely, climbed into the car without a word, and vanished down the street before dusk as the engine roared to life.

"The golden house and the beauty are the same person."

"…"

"Suddenly kinda hungry. Time to head home."

Jiang Qin grabbed The Soft Rice Guide, returned it to the shelf, biked back to Hongrong Homes on North Second Road, and bought a tray of steamed buns at the neighborhood entrance.

It was Wednesday, a workday.

Ms. Yuan Youqin worked at a government guesthouse, and Mr. Jiang Zhenghong was at the Health Bureau, so the house was likely empty. He'd have to make do with the buns.

After years of takeout and instant noodles in his past life, he wasn't picky anymore—food quality barely mattered.

Besides, this bun shop was solid—thin skins, big fillings. A decade later, they'd even open branches.

Jiang Qin pinched a bun from the plastic bag and took a bite. Hot, juicy, same old recipe, same familiar taste.

But the weather was too warm—two buns in, and he was sweating.

He tied up the bag, deciding to eat the rest at home.

By 7 p.m., night crept in silently.

Mr. Jiang Zhenghong returned home lugging two plastic bags, swapped his shoes for slippers, and plopped onto the sofa.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, his breathing uneven. He hurriedly called for Jiang Qin to pour him water.

"Dad, where'd you go? You look wiped."

"Your mom said the veggies at Nan Village Market are cheap. I biked forty minutes, bought a ton—stuff you like."

Jiang Qin set the glass in front of him. "Isn't it just a few cents cheaper? Worth the hassle? Are we that broke?"

Jiang Zhenghong took a gulp, letting out a satisfied ahh. "It's not about being broke. You're heading to college soon, then marrying after that. Money's gonna fly—gotta save where we can. No more reckless spending!"

Just as he finished, the door creaked open again.

Ms. Yuan Youqin stepped in, toting a shopping bag from the department store, beaming and humming a tune.

Seeing this, father and son exchanged a glance.

"What'd you buy?"

"Sister Xu from work said the department store's wool coats were half off. I scored a steal!"

Jiang Zhenghong's eyes widened. "Wool coat? How much?"

Ms. Yuan flashed a smug grin. "Original price 888, now just 488."

"Dad, this your 'no reckless spending'?" Jiang Qin gaped.

"You wasteful woman! It's the dog days of summer—why buy a wool coat now?"

"What do you know? It's only discounted because it's summer!"

Jiang Zhenghong puffed up with patriarchal authority. "Jiang Qin's done with the entrance exams. Once his results are out, we've got banquets to host, tuition to pay—plenty of expenses ahead."

Ms. Yuan slipped off her shoes and headed to the living room. "Isn't that my line? And did you go to Nan Village Market like I asked?"

"Of course I did. I crunched the numbers—veggies there are way cheaper than the salt shop downstairs. Saved over twenty bucks this trip."

"So we saved 320 today?"

Jiang Zhenghong's brain stalled. "Where'd the 300 come from?"

Ms. Yuan lifted her bag proudly. "I got an 888 coat for 488—saved 300 right there, didn't I?"

"Youqin, I've got to call you out—this spending logic's all wrong."

"Jiang Zhenghong, I've been married to you for years and barely bought clothes. One wool coat, and you're nagging?"

Jiang Qin watched from the side, grinning at the familiar family squabble—so heartwarming.

His dad was in his prime now, strong and fit, not the 53-year-old with white hair, secretly driving for Didi till he passed out to scrape up a down payment.

His mom was still young too, still into looking good, splurging a bit at the department store—not yet skipping meat to save cash.

This was hands-down the best part of being reborn.

But his cheeky grinning while spectating got him in trouble—soon both parents turned their glares on him.

"Jiang Qin, what's so funny? You think I shouldn't have bought this coat too?"

He wiped the smirk off his face. "Mom, I'm gonna make big money someday. No more outdated discount clothes for you, and no more sending Dad to far-off markets."

Ms. Yuan's expression softened, her gaze warming. "That's my good son. Don't be like your dad, always pinching pennies."

"Where am I pinching pennies…"

Jiang Zhenghong's voice weakened, clearly outmatched. Turning around, he saw his wife unpacking the bag—and out came rolls of toilet paper.

"What's this?"

"Guesthouse stock. The boss said it's all getting replaced, so I brought it home. Think you're the only one who knows how to save?"

Ms. Yuan huffed and headed to the kitchen.

Jiang Zhenghong blinked, dumbfounded. This is entrapment!