The shift to Mr. Yang's Wholesale Emporium proved to be another calculated success for Fenyang FreshGo. Though Mr. Yang's prices were marginally higher on some items, his products were consistently fresher, sourced from trusted local farms on the outskirts of Fenyang Town. More critically, he was a man eager for a reliable, high-volume client, unburdened by the unseen hand of Boss Wei's influence. His gratitude for Fenyang FreshGo's consistent cash payments and increasing order volume was evident in the respectful nods he gave Lin Yuan during their rare, brief visits to his bustling warehouse, a stark contrast to Mr. Cheng's terse demands. The 2% cash discount and 1.5% prompt payment incentive effectively offset the slight increase in base prices, maintaining their profitability.
Under Lin Yuan's rigorous oversight, Fenyang FreshGo now hummed with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. The new drivers, Xiao Bing and Mr. Guo, quickly proved their worth. Xiao Bing, with his earnest diligence, rarely made a mistake, his delivery routes becoming as precise as Lin Yuan's diagrams. Mr. Guo, driven by his family's need for stable income, applied himself with a quiet determination, his previous skepticism replaced by a grudging respect for the system that now put reliable money in his pocket. Even A-Kuan, who had left for Boss Wei's supposed "better offer," had recently been spotted at the Cyber Nest, looking disgruntled, the "guaranteed salary" apparently less appealing in practice than in promise. Lin Yuan merely observed, filing the data point away; A-Kuan's return to the market indicated that Boss Wei's offers often came with hidden costs.
Within the next two weeks, Fenyang FreshGo's daily order volume stabilized at an impressive average of 75 orders, occasionally spiking to 85 on market days. The positive word-of-mouth continued to spread, fueled by customers like Mrs. Li and Old Man Zhu, drawing in new clientele, including the bustling "Golden Lotus Teahouse," a prominent local establishment whose owner, Madam Hua, was notoriously difficult to please.
Lin Yuan meticulously updated his ledger at the end of every week, his focus unwavering.
* Weekly Gross Revenue: (75 orders/day * 7 days/week) * (average 50 yuan/order) = 26,250 yuan.
* Weekly Net Profit (approx): This figure now consistently averaged around 3,500 yuan, reflecting the increased volume and optimized costs.
* Lin Yuan's 30% Share: A steady 1,050 yuan per week.
In just three weeks since taking over Fenyang FreshGo, Lin Yuan had accumulated 3,150 yuan in pure profit, funds that he meticulously set aside. This was a trickle compared to the 60,000 yuan needed for the Old Silk Mill, but it was a tangible, self-generated capital, a proof of concept. The numbers, no matter how small, spoke of control, of a system he had conceived and brought to life. He felt a quiet pride in this, not a boastful satisfaction, but the deep contentment of a craftsman watching his intricate gears begin to mesh perfectly.
Despite his deep immersion in Fenyang FreshGo's operations, the Old Silk Mill remained the undisputed centerpiece of his strategic mind. He visited it twice more, at odd hours, once after dark, studying the way the moonlight filtered through its broken windows, imagining the cost of installing motion-sensor lighting and a basic security system. He walked the perimeter again, noting the state of the surrounding plots, some overgrown, others curiously barren. He needed to verify the mill's exact land boundaries and legal status.
His next step was a direct inquiry at the Fenyang Land and Resources Bureau, a grey, imposing building nestled amidst the more ornate, traditional government offices. The waiting room was sparse, filled with the hushed murmurs of anxious citizens navigating the complexities of local bureaucracy. The air smelled faintly of stale tea and official indifference. Lin Yuan took a number and sat patiently, observing. He noticed a perpetually harried young clerk named Xiao Wang, whose desk was piled high with overflowing files, struggling to keep pace with the endless stream of inquiries. He also observed an older, more imposing man, Director Zhou, whose office door was always closed, but whose voice could occasionally be heard booming from within. Director Zhou was known to have strong ties to the established local businesses, including those associated with Boss Wei.
When his number was finally called, Lin Yuan approached the counter, his demeanor calm and respectful. "Good morning," he began, addressing Ms. Gao, a stern-faced, middle-aged clerk with wire-rimmed glasses who seemed to have a permanent frown etched on her face. "I am inquiring about the property records for the Old Silk Mill, specifically Parcel ID FX-037B, located near the defunct railway line. I'd like to verify the current ownership, any outstanding liens, and the status of any re-zoning applications."
Ms. Gao barely looked up from her screen, her fingers drumming impatiently on the keyboard. "FX-037B? Ah, that old place. Always trouble. Owner's Mr. Gao. Debts, always debts. No re-zoning applications active. Status is 'Industrial, Decommissioned.' Why do you need this information, young man? This isn't public record for just anyone." Her tone was sharp, implying suspicion.
"I am a potential investor interested in its revitalization," Lin Yuan stated clearly, handing over his ID card. "I require the official property abstract for due diligence." He knew he was asking for something not readily available to the general public, but he wanted to gauge the resistance.
Ms. Gao peered at his ID, then at him, her frown deepening. "Potential investor? You seem a bit... young for such matters. And this property is not one that gets 'revitalized.' It's a black hole." She tapped her pen on her desk. "Property abstracts require an official request form, submitted with a compelling reason. And Director Zhou needs to approve it. It could take weeks, or even months, depending on the director's schedule." Her tone was subtly dismissive, a common bureaucratic tactic to discourage persistent individuals. Lin Yuan sensed a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in her demeanor when he mentioned the mill, a hint of prior instruction or established resistance.
He maintained his composure. "I understand, Ms. Gao. I will prepare the formal request. However, I believe the information on this particular property should be readily accessible. It's a decommissioned industrial site, not private residence data. Perhaps a quicker review could be arranged, given the local economic revitalization initiatives the bureau is supposedly promoting?" He subtly invoked the Bureau's stated mission, putting her on the defensive.
Just then, the heavy wooden door to Director Zhou's office creaked open. Director Zhou himself emerged, a corpulent man with a slicked-back comb-over and a perpetually smug expression, his gaze sweeping over the waiting room. His eyes briefly landed on Lin Yuan, then shifted to Ms. Gao at the counter, a faint, almost imperceptible narrowing. He cleared his throat. "Ms. Gao, any urgent matters? I have a meeting with Deputy Mayor Liang shortly."
"Nothing urgent, Director," Ms. Gao replied quickly, her voice instantly deferential, her eyes avoiding Lin Yuan's. "Just a young man inquiring about the old silk mill. Nothing that can't wait." She visibly tried to usher Lin Yuan away with a dismissive gesture.
Lin Yuan, however, seized the opportunity. He turned to Director Zhou, his voice clear and resonant, cutting through the hushed waiting room. "Director Zhou, I am Lin Yuan. I am preparing a proposal for the comprehensive redevelopment of the Old Silk Mill, transforming it into a Community Innovation Hub that could significantly contribute to Fenyang's economic growth and youth employment. I believe this aligns perfectly with the provincial government's recent directives on fostering local entrepreneurship. I was hoping for your guidance on accelerating the necessary permit processes."
Director Zhou's smug expression tightened. He looked Lin Yuan up and down, his eyes scanning his worn clothes, the absence of any obvious luxury or official backing. He then glanced at Ms. Gao, a silent message passing between them. "Community Innovation Hub?" Director Zhou scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. "Young man, that mill is nothing but a headache. A drain on resources. Many have tried, many have failed. Unless you have significant capital and backing, I suggest you reconsider. These things are more complicated than they appear on paper. And property abstracts are not for casual curiosity. They take time. Official channels must be followed." His words dripped with an unspoken warning, a clear echo of Boss Wei's earlier pronouncements. The message was clear: someone influential had already given instructions regarding that particular property.
"I understand complexities, Director," Lin Yuan replied, his voice still composed, "but I also understand opportunity. Especially the kind that benefits the entire community, not just a select few. I'll submit the formal request. I trust that the Bureau, in its commitment to Fenyang's prosperity, will handle it with due efficiency." He subtly implied that any undue delay would be viewed as an obstruction to public interest, a dangerous accusation to level at a bureaucrat.
Director Zhou's jaw tightened. He held Lin Yuan's gaze for a long moment, a silent challenge passing between them, before turning abruptly and retreating into his office, the heavy door thudding shut behind him.
Lin Yuan knew the game. This was Boss Wei's hand, subtly applied. Not a direct legal block, but bureaucratic stonewalling, a deliberate slow-down designed to frustrate, to exhaust his limited resources, to make him give up. It was a test of patience, a trial by attrition. He calmly collected the required forms from Ms. Gao, her expression still unreadable, and filled them out in the corner of the waiting room, his handwriting neat and precise. He then returned the forms, offered a polite "Thank you," and left the building.
As he walked home, the mid-day sun beating down, Lin Yuan's mind was already recalibrating. Boss Wei wasn't just attempting to buy the mill; he was attempting to control it, or at least control its future. By slowing down Lin Yuan's process, he might be trying to tie up the property, perhaps waiting for Mr. Gao's debt to spiral even further, allowing him to acquire it at a rock-bottom price through foreclosure. Or, perhaps, he was preparing his own, secret acquisition.
Lin Yuan decided on his next step. He needed to understand the mill's history, not just from records, but from the people who lived through it. He decided to seek out someone who remembered the mill in its heyday, someone who knew Mr. Gao's family and their past. Perhaps an old weaver from the original factory, or a long-time resident of the adjacent neighborhood, someone like Grandma Wei, an elderly woman known for her sharp memory and her constant presence near the old public well. Such a person might hold the key to understanding the deeper currents of the mill's past, and perhaps, its future. The shadow of the throne did not just require strategic acumen; it required understanding the very fabric of the town, its history, its secrets, and the silent narratives of its people.