Chapter 147 — The Long-Awaited...

"A friend? Not a girl, is it?" His mother frowned. Her son had several girlfriends now—not that you could call it a bad thing, exactly, but it certainly was not a good one either, so she felt she ought to intervene a little.

"A girl, yes—but it's Teacher Zhao Ying. You know her; she used to tutor me all the time back in high school." How could Yang Ce not know what his mother was getting at?

Hearing that it was Teacher Zhao Ying, his mother relaxed. A teacher and her student—surely they could not be dating. Her mind at ease, she said, "Teacher Zhao helped you a great deal back then, so bring her a nice big gift. And take her somewhere upscale for dinner—don't worry about the money. If it's not enough, take some from me."

The moment the words left her mouth, she gave a wry smile. Did Yang Ce still need to ask her for money? Still, out of habit, it had just slipped out.

"I know, Mom. Hurry up and get to work—you'll be late, and it won't look good if people notice," Yang Hengye said.

"Listen to you—as if you know anything about looking good to others," his mother laughed. "All right, I'm off. You go on up yourself."

Lately his mother's complexion had visibly improved, and so had his father's. His father's work was grueling, but he was full of drive, which gladdened Yang Ce no end.

No matter how much money he made himself, it was of little use. The people around him being happy, and himself being happy—that was what mattered most. Since his parents were unwilling to leave this place and move into the big villa, Yang Shuoxuan had stopped trying to persuade them.

His parents had their own way of living, and they were used to it here. Besides, almost everyone in this compound was an employee of Mingyang Heavy Industries, and the commute was short for all of them. The only shortcoming was that the apartments were a bit small, but that could hardly be called a shortcoming—so long as his parents felt it was enough, that was fine.

Back at home, Yang Ce began preparing the gift for Zhao Ying. When he had been in Macau, he had bought gifts at random, with no particular item set aside for any particular person—it was simply a token of goodwill. So he had picked up a great pile of cosmetics, perfumes, and the like.

But a gift for Zhao Ying required some thought. Before, when he had not known how she felt, it had not mattered—any random thing would do. Now, knowing her feelings, he could not be so casual.

If he gave her something, it had to carry meaning, ideally with a hint that would let Zhao Ying understand his heart. In truth, Yang Shuoxuan was torn. If he went straight to Zhao Ying and confessed, it would not only be rather abrupt, but he could not be sure she would not reject him again.

The girl was indecisive about things, always looking before and after. Yang Ce feared that Zhao Ying might, in another fit of impulse, turn him down—and then he would not only be embarrassed, but would never get another chance to confess.

So, to be safe, Yang Ce wanted to give Zhao Ying something that would represent his feelings. But it was truly hard to choose. Too direct, and it was no different from confessing to her face; too subtle, and he feared Zhao Ying would not catch on.

Yang Ce stared blankly at the pile of cosmetics and perfumes for quite a while. No matter how he arranged them, they could not convey his meaning. It seemed he would have to go pick out another gift.

Yang Ce casually packed a set of cosmetics and perfume suited to a woman of Zhao Ying's age into a bag and left the house. He planned to browse the mall a while longer and pick out something more fitting.

Yang Ce went downstairs and, passing the community property office, decided to step in and say hello to his mother, to let her know he was heading out first. So he pushed open the office door and walked in. The people in the property office all knew Yang Ce—though before he had merely been a temp worker's son, now he was the deputy manager's son, and more importantly, the son of the chairman of Mingyang Heavy Industries. So those uncles and aunties who had once paid him no mind now greeted him warmly: "Daming's here! Auntie hasn't seen you in ages!"

Yang Ce did not find it strange. After all, in the past these people had had no reason to curry favor with him, and now the situation was different—that was only human nature. These people were not like relatives; they were merely his mother's ordinary colleagues, with no deep ties to her, so a bit of sycophancy was nothing out of the ordinary.

What Yang Ce loathed most were the relatives. When his family had not been well off, those people had avoided them like the plague; now that things were better, they all came knocking.

"Auntie Zhang." Yang Minlan nodded and greeted the middle-aged woman who had spoken to him.

Auntie Zhang's face instantly lit up with a smile. "Daming, Auntie Zhang has some apples here—want one?"

Yang Xutang felt a black line drop across his brow. Do I look like a kindergarten kid? Still, he smiled and said, "No thanks, I just came to see my mom."

"The manager has a guest—looks like a relative of your family. They're inside right now," Auntie Zhang said, pointing toward the door of the deputy manager's office.

A relative? Yang Puqi was startled. He had just been thinking about relatives, and here one appeared? But what relatives could his family have? Most of his mother's relatives were in the countryside, and they were all doing quite well for themselves, so they did not visit much; and his father's relatives all had their own careers now—who would come calling?

Yang Moyi knocked at the door, puzzled, and his mother's voice came from inside: "Who is it?"

"Mom, it's me. Daming," Yang Ce answered.

"Daming! Come in," his mother said the moment she heard Yang Juehuan's voice.

Yang Ce pushed the door open and went in, only to find a somewhat familiar middle-aged man sitting across from his mother's desk, talking about something.

"This must be Daming! Come, let your Fifth Uncle-in-law have a look—you've grown so tall, about the same height as my boy!" The middle-aged man did not wait for Yang Yanzhou to speak; he stood up, took Yang Juehuan's hand with the easy familiarity of an old friend, and looked him up and down.

"You are...?" Yang Ce was rather baffled. He could not place the man before him at all.

"I'm your Fifth Uncle-in-law—Old Fourth Yu," the middle-aged man explained. "I even held you when you were little! From Dayu Village."

"Oh." Light dawned on Yang Ce. Dayu Village was his mother's hometown; this man was probably from the village, one of those relatives so distant the connection barely counted—no wonder he seemed familiar yet unfamiliar. Though he had no idea what the man wanted, out of politeness Yang Ce said, "Hello, Fifth Uncle-in-law."

"Your mother tells me you're a university student. Good, very good—much better than that good-for-nothing boy of mine," Fifth Uncle-in-law said with a chuckle. "Your cousin's about your height too, tall and strapping. I expect the two of you would get along. I can't make heads or tails of what you young people say nowadays—Martian script, non-mainstream, all that."

Yang Ce felt a wave of revulsion. Who the hell is non-mainstream Martian? I'm perfectly normal, not some brain-dead kid. Still, he smiled and nodded. Before he figured out what this fellow was after, Yang Ce decided to save his mother some face.

Of course, if the man wanted to borrow money, that would depend on what his mother thought. If she did not want to lend it, Yang Yongjin would be happy to personally see this "Fifth Uncle-in-law"—wherever he had come from—out the door.

"Fifth Uncle-in-law, I'm not non-mainstream," Yang Ce explained.