SES Chapter 130 Part 1

Chapter 130

On the eighth day after returning to Lijiang, the moment Yi Wansan opened his eyes that morning, the sun was already blazing high in the sky.

He lingered in bed for a while, reluctant to get up, but eventually forced himself to move—he had a task to do. It was his turn to go to the morning market and buy groceries for the Fenghuang Restaurant.

He’d expected this. The moment he came back, he knew it was coming.

Among the five of them, only Mu Dai and Yan Hongsha had gotten off easy. Mu Dai was still technically a patient, so Huo Zihong handled her like fragile porcelain—just being able to return safely was a blessing enough.

Yan Hongsha, on the other hand, was an outsider. She could come and go as she pleased—if she decided to tie balloons to herself and float to the moon, Uncle Zhang and Uncle Zheng wouldn’t scold her. At most, they’d mutter, “That balloon looks flimsy… maybe tie on a couple more, just in case?”

The rest of them weren’t so lucky.

When Uncle Zhang saw them, he said dryly, “Well, well, look who’s here. Haven’t seen you two in, what, ten years?”

Yi Wansan and Cao Yanhua bowed their heads and nodded meekly, swallowing their pride just to keep a roof over their heads and a bed to sleep in.

At least their bunks had been kept for them.

Uncle Zheng was tougher to face. His tactic was silence. He just gave them one long, wordless look—so sharp that the hairs on the back of their necks stood straight up.

That was all it took.

For the next couple of days, they worked like their lives depended on it. Yi Wansan took charge of all the shopping for Fenghuang Restaurant—potatoes, cabbage, lamb legs, cured meat, rice, flour, soy sauce, MSG—haggling energetically at every stall like a pro. He’d become such a regular fixture at the market that a few aunties from the fish stall started calling him “the little fresh meat of the marketplace.”

Cao Yanhua, meanwhile, handled all the cleaning and heavy chores. He worked himself hoarse trying to attract customers—by the end of two days, he’d gone through three boxes of throat lozenges, but finally earned a rare, approving smile from Uncle Zheng.

Making a living really wasn’t easy.

Yi Wansan hurried through washing up, afraid of missing the freshest batch of meat and vegetables at the morning market. He slung a large red-white-blue plastic shopping bag over one shoulder and pulled a small folding cart behind him, looking every bit like a bargain-hunting auntie ready for battle.

It was a tragic sight. Not long ago, he’d been the handsome bartender at the “Fate & Freedom” bar—mixing fake drinks, flirting with girls, living life on easy mode. Now, while others followed stock prices, he was tracking vegetable prices.

How did it all go so wrong? He couldn’t figure it out. Did it start when Luo Ren first showed up at the bar? Or when Fatty Cao started bragging about opening his own place—with a golden plaque at the door, no less?

He rolled his cart across the bar lobby. The wheels squeaked rhythmically.

He spotted Cao Yanhua sitting at a window table, hunched over some papers, scribbling furiously.

Curious, Yi Wansan released the cart handle and tiptoed closer, craning his neck to peek.

Cao Yanhua heard him, quickly flipping the paper over.

Yi Wansan caught only half a sentence—

“Heard that my second cousin’s getting married…”

He rolled his eyes. “Writing a family letter?”

No answer.

“It’s the twenty-first century. Ever heard of a phone call?”

Still no reply.

“So your cousin’s getting married—are you going? You gonna send a gift or what?”

Nothing.

No matter how much Yi Wansan poked and prodded, Cao Yanhua stayed as silent as a stone.

The market wouldn’t wait, and patience wasn’t his strong suit anyway. Yi Wansan finally muttered, “Sentimental fool,” and wheeled his cart out, the wheels squeaking all the way.

Cao Yanhua went back to his letter.

Heard that my second cousin’s getting married. Wishing you lifelong happiness. I’m too busy with work to return home, so I’m enclosing 500 yuan as a gift.

He hesitated over the signature, glancing around to make sure no one was watching, then scrawled it quickly—like a thief—before folding the letter neatly and sealing it in an envelope.

Just as he finished, Mu Dai came down the stairs. “Fatty Cao, time to train.”

He hurriedly shoved the letter into his pocket.

Mu Dai had been teaching him martial arts before, but never very seriously—more like a bit of showy posturing. Since their return, though, things had changed. She’d even made him a progress chart—dates, goals, every move clearly written down.

Yi Wansan had seen it and whistled. “Didn’t think our little boss lady was this detailed.”

He’d joked that Mu Dai’s diligence would last three seconds at most—“Probably just feeling grateful you helped her out in Nantian.”

But he was wrong. She’d turned into a strict instructor.

She’d crafted a training switch out of a thin bamboo branch—shaved smooth, softened over fire, soaked in cold water, then coated in oil.

Once dried, the branch was flexible as leather and cracked through the air like a whip.

Cao Yanhua had asked, still clueless, “What’s that for, Master?”

Her reply: “To whip you with.”

He’d laughed it off—he was thick-skinned and didn’t take it seriously. That was, until he felt the first strike. It stung like hell. Mu Dai had strength in her arms and terrifying precision. One sharp snap to the back of his leg and his whole body jolted.

After a few days of that, his skills genuinely improved—and he started to fear her. He even stopped calling her “Little Master” so often.

Today’s goal: three steps up the wall.

Mu Dai demonstrated—running, kicking, pushing off, grabbing the top edge, and pulling herself up in one smooth motion. She landed lightly atop the wall, effortless as a cat.

For him, she lowered the bar. He didn’t need to climb it—just grab the edge and hang there for ten seconds.

He tried again and again. His first step was solid, but he couldn’t push up the second leg. Uncle Zhang passed by once, thinking Mu Dai was teaching him to kick the wall, and grumbled, “The wall’s not built for that kind of abuse!”