“What, you’re going to work at Little Art City?”
Gao Dian shouted out in excitement, his chopsticks frozen mid-air as he looked up at Li Yingqiao in disbelief, then instinctively glanced toward Yu Jinyang.
The latter showed no reaction, leaning back on the sofa and leisurely scooping a piece of fish into his bowl, his head tilted slightly as if listening, yet also not really paying attention.
“Let me say this first—I absolutely welcome your return,” Gao Dian said, clearly overwhelmed with information, and put down his chopsticks.
“But why? If you didn’t feel comfortable at your old company, you could’ve just quit. With your abilities, it’s not like you can’t find work in Beijing. Why come back to work in Fengtan?”
Li Yingqiao was busy chewing on a duck foot.
“Surprised? Didn’t Miao give up the outside world and come back too?”
“That’s different. Miao was bound to come back sooner or later. Siyi Ge’s business empire is so big, he has to come back and take over. Besides, Miao is because—”
“Did Secretary Li call you?”
Yu Jinyang interrupted, putting down his chopsticks and turning to ask her, then casually handed a tissue to Gao Dian, signaling him to shut up for a bit.
Gao Dian blinked, confused.
“Secretary Li who?”
“Li Boqing,” Li Yingqiao lifted her eyes and said, “You know, the one who went solo to the Guangdong Toy Fair back in the day and landed the first wooden toy order for Fengtan. The same Li Boqing who sent us congratulations when our college entrance exam results came out.”
Li Boqing was somewhat of a legend.
Back then, he used a wooden toy made by an elderly local as a trial at the Guangdong fair and unexpectedly opened up the Fengtan wooden toy market.
After returning, he recruited and raised funds to start factories, which helped many in town get rich—including Yu Renjie.
In an era when million-yuan households were rare, under Li Boqing’s leadership, the entire town produced nearly a million in sales annually.
With the advent of the internet and e-commerce, orders even expanded overseas.
Li Boqing considered it his mission to earn money not just for himself but to bring everyone along with him.
Back then, anyone with woodworking skills in town owned several wooden toy factories each.
But times have changed.
The Fengtan wooden toy industry has become a dying breed—a sunset industry.
Even Yu Renjie earns less annually than from his hotel dividends.
But out of respect for Li Boqing, even Fengtan government officials still show him considerable deference.
When their college entrance exam results were announced years ago, Li Boqing was stunned.
Although several had moved to Little Art City, he still considered them his protégés.
After all, the town rarely produced so many students admitted to top universities at once.
In 2016, four showed up in one go, really boosting Li Boqing’s reputation and pride.
Naturally, he kept a close eye on Li Yingqiao and the others.
When the pandemic broke out, he had someone call them one by one to check on their development outside.
If things weren’t going well, he asked if they wanted to consider returning home to develop.
Li Boqing’s conditions back then were very generous.
Though the economy has cooled since, his offer remains sincere.
Since Li Yingqiao decided to come back, he warmly welcomed her and promised to support her however he could.
Li Boqing’s love for this land ran deep, but his style was old-fashioned.
He often posted poems on social media to express his affection for his hometown.
“Right, right,” Gao Dian remembered, “He always posts poems, and Miao likes every single one.”
Li Yingqiao, still chewing on the duck foot, gave Yu Jinyang a surprised glance.
“I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be so devoted.”
Yu Jinyang ignored her and scooped another piece of fish, lowering his head to spit out a fish bone onto the table.
After a moment, he asked, “He wants you to work at Little Art City? What exactly? A park ranger?”
Li Yingqiao got to the point.
“Something like that. He said I could do whatever I want. It’s Little Art City after all—I know it best.”
Yu Jinyang smiled.
“You moved away in elementary school. Little Art City’s been rebuilt several times since. You sure you still know it? When do you start?”
“Next week. Once the current operations manager leaves, I’ll clock in,” Li Yingqiao replied, then asked, “When did your studio open?”
“Last year, I think.”
He leaned back, wiped his hands with a tissue, then reached for his phone.
“WeChat—I’ll scan you.”
“Oh,” Li Yingqiao paused with her chopsticks mid-air, then realized and fished her phone out as well, murmuring, “How do we still not have each other on WeChat?”
After scanning, Yu Jinyang pulled a corner of his mouth up, his tone rare and a little teasing.
“I’m asking you—why?”
Gao Dian grabbed his phone and scanned along, squinting.
“Damn, pure-hearted dung beetle jumping jive? Wait, is this your work WeChat, Idol?”
Li Yingqiao accepted their friend requests.
“Of course not. I have separate arrangements for work. This is my personal WeChat.”
Yu Jinyang stared at the chat window that popped up and suddenly remembered something.
He turned to ask her, “Did you add me before?”
“Not that I recall,” Li Yingqiao said, “Maybe I searched your QQ for a while, but you probably didn’t accept.”
Yu Jinyang tossed his phone on the table and stared at her silently for two seconds. Seeing her innocent expression, he couldn’t help but laugh.
“You didn’t add a note, and your location’s still Andorra—”
Li Yingqiao, nearly full, put down her chopsticks and gave him a cold glare.
“Fine, it’s not your fault. Blame me then.”
“How could I dare?”
He lowered his head to send the friend request, chuckling softly.
Only now, after Li Yingqiao’s return, did she notice that Yu Jinyang had grown taller, his features more balanced and refined.
She had always thought his eyes were too big—actually, they were somewhat atypical Danfeng eyes.
On his childhood face, they took up too much space.
Now, the proportions were just right.
The outer corners slanted slightly upward but were not narrow or elongated.
His once delicate look had matured, with clear, flowing facial contours, and thick, straight sword-like eyebrows that made his eyes appear calm yet spirited.
He used to joke he was a Transformer, since many car lights are designed based on the Danfeng eye shape.
When she and Gao Dian asked if he was a Ferrari or a Porsche, he said Koenigsegg.
Later, Li Yingqiao saw a Koenigsegg in Beijing and realized he was just messing around—his face wasn’t designed with Danfeng eyes.
There was no denying, though, that beneath the brim of his baseball cap, that cold, handsome face was undeniably attractive.
The dim, half-lit private bar gave an intimate ambiance.
Yu Jinyang could tell Li Yingqiao was blatantly staring at him.
He had actually noticed long ago.
He wanted to pretend he didn’t see, but she kept staring, showing no sign of looking away.
After such a long gaze, if he ignored her, it would only seem like he had something to hide.
So, he tilted his head slightly and met her gaze calmly.
She said nothing, just stared openly, and their initial awkwardness of looking away upon eye contact had vanished.
Maybe it was his imagination, but Li Yingqiao’s look reminded him of an old T-shirt found deep in a wardrobe during a seasonal change—something weathered by time, evoking regret, yet curiosity about whether it could still be worn.
“Are you full?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Just then, Gao Dian said without looking up, holding his phone, “A couple of customers came to the store. I gotta go back to be a scumbag. You two take your time catching up. Oh, Idol, if you really decide to stay, come support my business more. The folks living in Little Art City’s scenic spot now are no good birds—you’ll definitely need me.”
With that, he dashed off.
Li Yingqiao, who had kept a perfectly composed facade all day, finally broke character and shouted after his retreating back, “Damn you, Gao Dian, don’t curse me!”
After yelling, she glanced sideways and caught Yu Jinyang’s lips twitching in a suppressed smile, his eyes crinkling.
“Yu Miaomiao!”
“Hey.”
“Stop laughing.”
“I’m not.” He didn’t hide, instead met her annoyed glare with a brazen, almost challenging stare.
He even turned his treasured nape toward her. “What’s this, Li Yingqiao?”
Li Yingqiao: “You’re asking for a beating?”
Yu Jinyang finally reined in his smile and his voice grew colder.
“I just can’t stand how resigned you sound. The stuff you said to Gao Dian earlier sounds more resigned than even my grandma. At least grandma still tries to entertain herself and sometimes supports someone on stage.”
He suddenly recalled a conversation with grandma a few days ago.
“Li Yingqiao, let me test you—what do people usually say when they compliment a guy’s figure these days?”
Yu Jinyang didn’t think much of it until he saw her wide-eyed stunned look.
Then he realized what he’d said and blushed furiously, the redness spreading rapidly down his neck like a boiled shrimp.
He hurriedly cleared his throat.
“No, no, I didn’t mean anything else.”
Li Yingqiao just laughed.
“What do you want to say?”
After she laughed long enough, he glanced at her from under his cap, speaking in a measured tone, “No offense, I just meant the way you were cursing Gao Dian just now—that’s more like you.”
Li Yingqiao froze, beckoned him with a finger and shouted, “Then come here with that itchy nape of yours, why didn’t you say so earlier?”
He seemed to see through her and stayed still.
“Stop pretending. The more you act, the less it suits you.”
“Is that so?”
Li Yingqiao raised an eyebrow and teased, “Yu Miaomiao, according to your imagination, do I have to break a brick on my chest or smash a slab with my bare hands every time I show up? Otherwise, it’s not really Li Yingqiao, right?”
“Well, you’re not.”
He teased back.
“Then who is? What’s the real Li Yingqiao like?”
“The real Li Yingqiao should still hate me.”
“Nonsense.”
“Then you’re not the real Li Yingqiao.”
“Then you’re not Yu Jinyang either. After all, Miaomiao once said he wanted to be my dog.”
He looked away and stood up, picking up his phone.
His expression unreadable under the cap’s brim, he quietly said, “You’re the one who didn’t want it.”
“I’m back now.”
She stayed seated, watching him.
“Too late now.”
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