Restless Heart (1)

"Father and Little Brother have never seen so much silver before—they wanted to keep it around for a day to feast their eyes on it," Dong Qiaoxiao said with a smile as she stepped in from outside. She carried a basket of freshly picked vegetables, still glistening with dew.

Dong Rende's old face flushed, and he gave an awkward chuckle. "To be honest, Young Master Lin, I did have that thought. I'm pushing fifty this year, but I've never laid eyes on this much silver."

Fifty? He didn't even look it—more like sixty. Back in Lin Wanrong's old world, folks in their forties and fifties were in their prime—chasing young mistresses or keeping side chicks, living it up. Maybe lifespans were shorter here, so Dong Rende, not yet fifty, called himself an old man.

"Stare all you want, then—get your fill," Lin Wanrong said, rummaging through Dong Qiaoxiao's basket. He plucked out a cucumber, didn't bother washing it, snapped it in half, and chomped down without a shred of grace.

Dong Qiaoxiao shot him an amused glance, her eyes brimming with delight.

"Young Master Lin, what's our next move?" Dong Rende reluctantly tore his gaze from the silver, giving Dong Qingshan a nudge. The kid finally peeled his eyes away, still dazed.

"Uncle Dong, as we agreed—fifty-fifty split. This haul's gotta be five thousand taels, right? Plus some extra I made this afternoon." Lin Wanrong dumped all his earnings on the table. "Tomorrow, take it to the bank, swap it for universal silver notes. You take half straight off. The other half, hold onto for me for now."

"No, no, no—" Dong Rende waved his hands frantically. "Young Master, fifty-fifty won't do. This all came from your talent and your capital. I'll just take the production cost and a bit for labor—fifty taels total."

Lin Wanrong had seen plenty of cutthroat business deals, but Dong Rende's integrity—profit in sight, yet sticking to principles—earned a quiet nod. "Uncle, this wasn't just me. You all pitched in. I've said before, I want to set up a hefty dowry for Qiaoxiao. Think of this as my little gesture."

Dong Qiaoxiao's cheeks pinked, but she met his gaze firmly. "Brother Lin, we helped, sure, but you're the real brains here. Without us, you could've grabbed anyone and pulled it off. You gave us this chance out of kindness. If we took this much silver, it'd weigh on our hearts—we'd never feel right."

"Yeah, Big Bro," Dong Qingshan piped up, young but resolute. "We'll take what's ours—no more, not a cent."

What else could he say? Lin Wanrong sighed inwardly. The Dong family—father, son, daughter—poor as dirt but proud as hell. Pushing further would just insult them. He nodded. "Alright, I've got a proposal."

"What proposal?" The three leaned in, already sold on his smarts, eager to hear.

Lin Wanrong dipped his head. "Since none of us want this five thousand taels, why not use it as capital? Start a business—let money make money."

"A business?" Dong Rende paused, mulling it over. "What kind do you reckon, Young Master?" Five thousand taels wasn't a fortune, but it wasn't peanuts either—worth some serious thought.

"Qiaoxiao, what do you think we should do?" Lin Wanrong asked, noticing her pensive look. She was sharp as a tack—couldn't underestimate her.

Dong Qiaoxiao pondered, then said, "Clothing, food, shelter, travel—that's what regular folks care about. Clothing's locked up by the Xiao family and other big players—cutthroat competition. With our small stake, we can't break in. But food? That's something we could try."

She glanced at Lin Wanrong nervously, worried her idea might rub him the wrong way. A scholar running a business could be seen as beneath dignity. Plus, with his quick mind, would he even go for it? If he shot her down, she'd be at a loss.

"Qiaoxiao's thinking matches mine," Lin Wanrong boomed with a laugh. She exhaled, relieved, flashing him a happy look as she tuned in.

"Food's the foundation of life. Opening an eatery—however much cash you've got, that's how big you can go. Easy to start, too. But—" His tone shifted. "If it's just a tiny diner, low stakes mean low returns. If we're playing, we play big."

"Play big?" The Dong trio blurted in unison, baffled.

"You got it—big," Lin Wanrong gritted out, word by word. "Our joint's gotta be spacious, prime location, top-notch skills, killer service, and prices that hit just right."

Even clever Dong Qiaoxiao blinked at that. The first bits made sense, but "prices that hit just right"? What was that?

Seeing their puzzled faces, he grinned. "The first parts are clear, right? Big space, hottest spot in town, craftsmanship and service—self-explanatory. Prices? Heh, we tier it—low, mid, high, all covered. Guests step in, they get a high-class vibe, feel we're a cut above. Even if we charge a bit more, they'll buy it—one tael, one worth, everyone gets that. Plus, we've got mid- and low-end folks covered too."

The old man and son stared, jaws slack, lost for ages. Only Dong Qiaoxiao nibbled her lip, digesting his words, starting to catch on.

"And—" Lin Wanrong dropped a mysterious smirk. "For each tier, we'll throw in random promotions. They'll come flocking."

"Promotions?" Now even Qiaoxiao joined the father and son in confusion. Never heard that word—what the hell was it?

Lin Wanrong spent half a day breaking it down. Once they got it, they chewed it over—damn, this "promotion" thing actually sounded tempting.

The Dongs already had blind faith in him. Hearing this, they figured Lin Wanrong was some restaurant guru. The dream of running an eatery flared up fast.

Truth was, this was a wild gamble. Lin Wanrong had zero experience with restaurants. But the guy had guts and no shame—five thousand taels from thin air? He'd lose it without blinking.

Ideas sparked. Dong Rende piped up, "Hearing you, Young Master, I just remembered—word is, the old boss of Delicious Pavilion by Xuanwu Lake's getting up there. Wants to sell the place and retire to Suzhou."

"Oh?" Lin Wanrong perked up. Xuanwu Lake—prime spot. Great views, heavy foot traffic. Run it right, the profits could roll.