The two lovers could only keep their relationship a secret; it was out of necessity. The next day, they reluctantly parted ways.
Even though the reluctance was strong, they couldnât be willful. Mu Qing watched as Lin Yinghui boarded the tram and only then turned away, wiping her tears.
Lin Yinghui felt an ache in his heart, and all the way, he looked despondent. He didnât even know how he ended up at the train station. If not for his decent self-control, worried about others laughing at him, he might have cried right there. He knew his Qingqing must be feeling terrible too. He wondered if she was hiding somewhere to cry.
Lost in thought for a while, he looked down at his ticket, ready to find his train. As he turned around, he bumped into a solid figure.
"Sorry, sorry." Lin Yinghui didnât even look up, quickly apologizing.
"How are you walking? Not watching where youâre going?"
The abrupt and dissatisfied voice made Lin Yinghui frown slightly. He looked up at the group before him and froze.
"How are you speaking?" The man who was bumped, dressed in a military uniform, first scolded the sycophantic man who had spoken, then turned to Lin Yinghui, saying warmly, "Itâs okay, young man."
Lin Yinghui faced this leader and nodded apologetically, "Iâm sorry, I didnât watch where I was going."
"Hurry up and catch your train," said the young officer standing beside the middle-aged officer.
Without lingering, Lin Yinghui nodded to the officer he bumped into, turned around, and walked away. After taking a dozen steps, Lin Yinghui suddenly turned around to glance at the middle-aged officer he had bumped into. He felt a sense of familiarity from him.
But he couldnât think of who it was related to.
Perhaps due to a soldierâs instinct, the young officer who had spoken earlier turned to look at him.
Lin Yinghui quickly boarded the train, letting the fleeting moment slip away without thinking much of it.
Lin Yinghui didnât realize that while he glanced at the middle-aged officer, that officer was frowning slightly, lost in thought.
Lin Guozhi had come to this place to understand the various districts. Having spent eight or nine years abroad, then being in a coma for some years, there were things to learn. He had just visited the Southern District a couple of months ago, observing their competitions. He would be here until yearâs end, then head to the Northern District next year.
Being in a coma didnât change much over these years. The only aspect was that, like the rest of the world, theyâd improve development-wise in the future. He didnât hold any position in the Kyoto District now. The higher-ups wanted him to tour around for learning before making an appointment.
Of course, there might be some concerns. After all, he had lost his memory, remembering past events scatteredly.
Even the things that happened during his years abroad were piecemeal. The higher-ups were likely cautious, afraid he might turn against them.
Whatâs weighing on his mind now is his brain. The doctors told him the blood clot is gradually dissolving, and he might recall past events.
However, he remembered very little, mostly recalling seven or eight foreign affairs.
He remembered bits and pieces about having been married, recollections of a woman, and some adobe houses. There even seemed to be images of two children.
Yet he canât remember any faces or locations.
Heâs sure he married in China because he didnât while abroad.
That young man earlier caused him a momentary daze, a shadow flickering before his eyes. He felt familiar but just didnât know where heâd seen him. He thought it might relate to some shadows in his mind. Just now, the young man looked at him too, maybe having a sense of him, but he walked away hastily in the crowd, leaving questions unasked. Besides, it was just a thought; what if it wasnât? Now, he wants to quickly recover his past memories, but his brain is obstinate. Overthinking sometimes results in dull pain. Yet he still forces himself to think, hoping it might shake something loose in his mind.
Not remembering past affairs is frustrating, a lack of control leaving him feeling helpless, constantly sensing an inability to fully exert himself somewhere.
The two boarded the train, each confused, not thinking of the otherâs face.
The young officer who glanced back at Lin Yinghui escorted Lin Guozhi onto the train. Observing the leader, he paused briefly, scratching his chin in confusion.
Darkly musing: That young man earlier really bears resemblance to the leader, almost like a mold.
After pondering, he let the thought pass without much care. After all, in this vast world, people looking alike arenât rare, and having similarities is even more commonplace.
Lin Guozhi disembarked the train, initially planning to head to the team, but the person awaiting him clearly had favors to ask, stubbornly leading him to a restaurant for a meal. Lin Guozhi initially refused but found himself unable to resist at all. Evidently, this was something done often, knowing exactly how to make refusal impossible.
He truly didnât recognize this person, but the conversation reminded him of a few people, surprisingly making him realize how broad his social network is. After being warmly treated, Lin Guozhi didnât respond to the personâs request.
The person thought Lin Guozhi was unimpressed with the meal. As he was about to board, he offered Lin Guozhi a box of cigarettes, which Lin Guozhi didnât accept. He had already gathered what was inside, and for such a straightforward request, he wasnât optimistic. Meeting someone for the first time acting this way, he realized he needed to properly communicate with the leadership here.
The one currying favor didnât realize heâd hit a wall yet.
....
After returning, Lin Yinghui didnât have time to sink into desolation because the next day brought a torrential downpour. The temperature plummeted swiftly.
Lin Wan had already bundled Little Star in a cotton jacket and pants. Clothes that were selling hot suddenly hit a sales wall.
Besides a thicker gray-blue cotton coat, the red down jacket wasnât very thick.
With the temperature drop, those were no longer wearable. Now, what could sell were a few styles of pants lined with cotton and windproof jackets, waterproof pants.
A newly made batch hadnât been shipped much.
This worried Su Ling and Yin Peibai.
"What should we do? We still have more than two thousand pieces in stock, and thereâs a few hundred returned items from outside," Yin Peibai paced anxiously, like an ant on a hot pan.
"Whatâs the worry? If we donât sell this year, we can still sell after the New Year and come spring," Su Ling remained calm.
"The trademark registration will be ready by tomorrow. The packaging will take another week. Donât worry, we arenât really holding onto excess inventory."
This time, they produced roughly ten thousand items, with only one or two thousand left over. Thatâs not many.
Theyâd already recovered their costs.
"Xiao Wan, do you really want to go high-end?"
Once the trademark is done, theyâll be just like those clothing factoriesâhaving a brand.
"Not exactly, weâre just pushing our brand out there. As for packaging, itâs just a tote bag with our logo; it doesnât add much to costs. Tote bags are cheap, only twenty yuan for a thousand pieces."
This time for trademark registration, Lin Wan sought help from Uncle Hu because South Street was under their districtâs management.
Hu Bin only asked her for information without requiring her presence, delivering it the next day.
Lin Wan maintained accurate accounts of shipments and inventory to avoid disputes during any profit sharing later.
Having a couple of good friends wasnât easy; she didnât want to hurt their friendship over such matters.
"Having a brand is good. If someone tries to mimic it, can we sue them?" Su Ling asked.
"I suppose we can," Yin Peibai replied.
Lin Wan smiled from the side; indeed, these two had been influenced by their men.
Following the downpour, light snow began to fall.