Chapter Seventy-Two: The Nanfeng Guesthouse, External Leasing

Chen Huajiang and his wife wandered around the third floor with Huanhuan before finally purchasing a schoolbag adorned with a large cat face and another covered in vibrant, multicolored flowers. The price for these two items came to eight yuan, which made Lin Jiayin’s heart ache; her expression turned gloomy as she repeatedly gripped Chen Huajiang’s arm tightly in distress.

Even the sales clerk at the schoolbag counter looked at the family of three with envy, jealousy, and resentment. In those days, colorful bags with patterns like these mostly came from Hong Kong and Taiwan, passed through Guangdong Province; it wasn’t that local manufacturers couldn’t make them, but simply that there was no plan to produce such bags domestically.

But seeing Huanhuan’s radiant smile, hugging her new schoolbag with delight, Chen Huajiang felt everything was worthwhile. What did a few yuan matter, when it brought his daughter such happiness? It was well worth it.

“One would have been enough, yet you bought two,” Lin Jiayin complained as they left the department store, torn between distress and reproach. She happened to see Huanhuan, perched on her father’s shoulders, struggling to carry both bags at once but unable to fasten the second one behind the first. After much effort, she ended up looking aggrieved.

“No, this is my bag,” Huanhuan declared, clutching her cat-faced schoolbag possessively when Lin Jiayin reached for it, asserting her ownership.

“Fine, but if you ruin your schoolbag next time, I won’t fix it for you, and if it gets dirty, I won’t wash it,” Lin Jiayin threatened, glaring at her daughter.

But it was useless; Huanhuan clung stubbornly to her bag. In the end, Lin Jiayin had to give in, letting her carry both bags as she pleased.

The family of three headed toward the East Gate. Originally, Chen Huajiang intended to hail a rickshaw. At that time, there were many rickshaws—some old-fashioned, dating from the Republic era, but most were bicycle-converted pedal tricycles. The starting fare for a single ride was twenty cents, with haggling based on distance and the number of passengers. For a family like Chen Huajiang’s, traveling within the city, thirty cents would usually suffice. If you bargained and the driver’s business wasn’t great, twenty cents might do.

But Lin Jiayin was reluctant, feeling that they had already spent eight and a half yuan, so it was time to save. What she didn’t realize was that they were in the city center—the most bustling part of Nanming. It might mean little to the couple, but for Huanhuan, it was full of allure.

“Candied hawthorn! Candied hawthorn! Mama, I want candied hawthorn!” Huanhuan had already had two sesame candies and wasn’t interested in more, but upon seeing an old man by the roadside carrying a stick of candied hawthorn with bright red fruit, she was tempted again, pointing at it excitedly.

“You little spendthrift! You just had sesame candy and now you want candied hawthorn,” Lin Jiayin scolded. “Don’t say a word, nothing you say will do!” She glared at Huanhuan, and when Chen Huajiang looked as though he might speak up, she grew even more upset, her face tense with anxiety.

Seeing her mood, Chen Huajiang could only pat Huanhuan and say, “Next time, all right? Too much candy isn’t good for your teeth.”

Lin Jiayin finally breathed a sigh of relief, her mood easing slightly. Earlier, she’d nearly lost her temper, frustrated that her husband always indulged their daughter—how could things go on like this? In her view, children needed discipline, not endless pampering. She was also vaguely afraid—if this continued, her daughter would grow distant from her, and Chen Huajiang would win her over. Though it was reasonable for a child to be close to her father, Lin Jiayin couldn’t shake her unease and worry.

“No, I don’t care, I want candied hawthorn!” Huanhuan protested, twisting atop Chen Huajiang’s shoulders.

But this time, with no help from her father and Lin Jiayin glaring disapprovingly, Huanhuan realized her tactic wouldn’t work.

“Mama, I don’t want candied hawthorn anymore,” Huanhuan said, showing some understanding despite her young age. She noticed Lin Jiayin’s displeased expression and knew she was angry. To win her mother’s favor, she handed over her beloved cat-faced schoolbag.

Lin Jiayin shot her a look, took the bag, and her mood improved a little.

Chen Huajiang smiled, sensing Lin Jiayin’s concern and understanding her worries.

As they walked on, Lin Jiayin gestured, indicating she wanted to carry Huanhuan. Chen Huajiang nodded and handed their daughter over. Mother and daughter whispered to each other, and soon Huanhuan was giggling in Lin Jiayin’s arms, filling Chen Huajiang with a touch of jealousy.

“What is it?” After walking for a bit, Chen Huajiang suddenly stopped, looking at an eight-story building. They were at the border between the city center and the eastern district, facing a hotel—one of the most luxurious in Nanming.

Gold-plated characters at the entrance read “Nantian Hotel,” and beside it stood a gateway labeled “Nantian Power Administration.”

“Don’t get any ideas, this place is outrageously expensive,” Lin Jiayin warned, glancing at the hotel and thinking her husband wanted to treat them to a meal there. Her face grew tense.

The Nantian Hotel, together with the City Guesthouse, was among Nanming’s finest. The difference was that the latter served only official guests, while the former catered to both official and private clientele. For example, overseas Chinese and relatives visiting Nanming would often stay at the Nantian Hotel. Such venues were naturally pricey, and tended to gouge customers.

“No, I’m looking at that—see the fast-food place by the entrance?” Chen Huajiang clarified, pointing to a storefront to the right of the hotel’s main entrance. The space was broad, decorated luxuriously for the times; few shops could afford marble floors, most had plain concrete.

“We’re not going—it’s still too expensive,” Lin Jiayin replied, shaking her head as she held Huanhuan, her gaze carrying a warning for Chen Huajiang.

“Look closely—it’s not about eating there, but about their lease offer,” Chen Huajiang rolled his eyes, took her hand, and led her closer, pointing at a sign by the fast-food shop. It read that the premises were available for transfer, with an annual rent of three thousand six hundred yuan.

At that time, there was no such thing as a transfer fee; the shop clearly belonged to Nantian Power. “Three thousand six hundred—my goodness, that’s daylight robbery! Huajiang, don’t tell me—?” Lin Jiayin gasped as she read the words written in white chalk, then suddenly realized something and stared at her husband in astonishment.

“Come on, let’s go inside and take a look,” Chen Huajiang smiled, took her hand, and pulled her in without giving her a chance to object.

To Lin Jiayin, an annual rent of three thousand six hundred was astronomical, almost absurd. But Chen Huajiang knew that the Nantian Hotel was different from other places—the clientele was unique, and the profits would be too. This was the only place in Nanming where you could legally and openly do business with foreign guests. For that alone, a monthly rent of three hundred yuan was not too much.