Chapter 38: Settling Down and Buying a Home

The north wind of February felt as if it were wrapped in shards of glass, stinging the ears with every gust.

Li Yifei pulled his worn navy wool coat tighter around himself and ducked into a taxi. Outside the window, a gray forest of steel and concrete retreated rapidly, its cold, sharp lines slicing through the leaden sky. The driver chattered on about how slow business had been since the holidays, but Li Yifei only gazed at his own blurred reflection in the glass—a young face framed by a pair of eyes, calm with a depth that belied his years.

His fingers tapped unconsciously against his knee: tap, tap, tap—as if he were operating an invisible abacus.

Returning to this vast capital, if he did not lay down a foundation of brick and mortar, how could he ever hope to stand firm? The tranquil days spent in a courtyard of blue bricks and gray tiles, the skyline visible from a wide terrace—these images had lingered in his mind ever since he decided to move north for his studies. Money, sitting in an account, was ultimately just a number. Only by transforming it into tangible brick, tile, and concrete could he leave his mark today and anchor himself against the rising tides of tomorrow.

The car came to a halt in front of the polished glass doors of Hengtong Real Estate. As he stepped inside, the heat greeted him, carrying the scent of cheap coffee.

A figure rose deftly from behind the reception desk. "Mr. Li?" It was Zhang Man, whose voice had sounded so sweet over the phone. She was twenty-five or six, her professional suit tailored to fit her tall, lithe frame. Standing five-foot-seven in modest black heels, she moved with agility. Her smile was genuine, like the first ray of spring sun slanting through a glass window—not blinding, but sufficiently bright. There were no snobbish tropes here, only a crisp, "Mr. Li, I am Zhang Man. If you are ready, shall we head out now?"

The tires rolled over the city’s slowly awakening streets. Before long, a vast, frozen lake appeared before them. The ice looked like a giant piece of frosted glass, reflecting the desolate willow branches and the mottled vermilion lacquer of the pavilions on the shore.

The car turned into a deep, narrow alley, and the clamor of the outside world was magically blocked by thick brick walls. Zhang Man stopped in front of a heavy, black-lacquered wooden gate and pulled out a key.

*Creeeak—*

The sound of the gate opening, heavy with the friction of time, seemed to unlock another dimension. Inside, the world opened up—a courtyard paved with solid, smooth blue bricks. A covered walkway encircled the spacious yard; though the painted beams and carved pillars had faded, their spirit remained. An old peach tree, its gnarled branches twisted, pointed silently toward the cold sky. It was a standard two-section courtyard, sprawling and wide. In its emptiness, there was a sense of profound, settled stillness.

Zhang Man’s voice echoed slightly in the courtyard: "A North Shore courtyard house. To the west is the Great Lake, to the east is the Red Scarf Primary School. The environment is secluded, and the location is superb." Her pace was steady; she was clearly intimately familiar with the property.

Li Yifei stood under the gatehouse, his gaze sweeping slowly across the scene. His footsteps measured the dimensions of every square brick, and his fingers brushed over the delicate, intricate wood carvings on the cold pillars.

The east wing had perfect light, ideal for a tea table; the west wing, with its regular layout, could house a wall of books; the main hall, with its bright, open space, could accommodate a long desk for calligraphy… This small patch of earth had already begun to take shape in his mind as the skeleton of his future life.

He stood in the center of the courtyard. The thin winter sunlight filtered through the old tree branches, casting faint shadows at his feet.

Afterward, Zhang Man showed him a few other properties, but those cramped, small courtyards were like delicate bonsai trees compared to a virgin forest—they could not catch his eye.

"Ms. Zhang," Li Yifei suddenly spoke, breaking the silence of a small courtyard, "take me to see the villas."

A flicker of subtle surprise crossed Zhang Man’s eyes, but her professional training allowed her to recover immediately. She simply nodded and said, "Very well, Mr. Li."

The car merged back into traffic, heading north. In the Maple Forest residential area of the northern suburbs, the style was entirely different. The expansive lawns had yet to turn green, revealing vast stretches of withered yellow. The European-style buildings had cold, rigid lines, and the massive floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the bleak midday sun like cold metal plates. The air lacked the human warmth of the alleyways, replaced by a sense of detached order.

Zhang Man pointed to a few buildings of similar style and an open plot in the distance: "The international school is in the northwest corner, and hospitals and large shopping malls are all nearby. The living amenities are very complete."

Li Yifei walked in silence, his gaze sweeping over the empty, chilly spaces of the model homes. His fingertips traced the smooth, cold marble countertops, but his eyes remained calm and unruffled.

This openness and convenience were a different kind of weight on the scale. A moment later, he turned around: "Let’s go back to your center."

***

The eleven o'clock morning sun slanted into the massive glass curtain wall of Hengtong Real Estate, casting bright, dancing spots of light on the mirror-like floor tiles.

Zhang Man handed him a cup of warm water. The steam rising from the cup briefly blurred Li Yifei’s young yet excessively calm face. He was tall, nearly six-foot-one, and even while seated, he possessed an expansive sense of strength; his steady demeanor almost erased the boundaries of his age.

"Mr. Li, among the places we saw today, were there any that caught your eye?" Zhang Man asked tentatively, sitting opposite him, her hands folded naturally over the folder on the table.

"Yes," Li Yifei said, setting down his cup. The base clicked against the tabletop, a sharp, crisp sound. "I just wonder if the price is as satisfactory as the properties?"

"Which ones are you referring to…?" Zhang Man’s heartbeat quickened slightly.

"The courtyard on the North Shore, and Villa Number Eight." His tone was as calm as if he were ordering two common home-cooked dishes.

Zhang Man’s fingertips trembled imperceptibly, but she steadied herself. "One moment, please, let me check the specific details." She quickly opened the folder, her fingers gliding over the clearly printed property information sheets.

A moment later, she looked up and reported the figures clearly: "The North Shore courtyard is seventy million. Villa Number Eight is eighty million." She paused, her gaze lingering on Li Yifei’s face for a second before adding, "The detached villa in Yunshan you mentioned on the phone is listed at approximately sixty million."

Li Yifei tapped his knuckles against the smooth table: *tap… tap… tap…* In the quiet conference room, it sounded like a countdown.

He lifted his eyes and looked at Zhang Man steadily: "How about this: the North Shore courtyard, plus that villa in Yunshan—I want them both."

Li Yifei paused, his tone carrying an unquestionable sense of negotiation. "Please have your company step in and speak with the two owners about the price. If you can secure a suitable discount, I will pay the full amount at once—the owners will get their money as quickly as possible."

"The full amount… for both?" Zhang Man’s heart pounded against her ribs, nearly leaping into her throat. Two properties! A nine-figure sum! She took a deep breath, suppressing the tremor in her fingertips and her suddenly racing heart. Her professional smile remained impeccable. "Understood! Please sit for a moment and have some water; I will report this to the manager immediately!"

Soon, a smiling, middle-aged man walked over with a near-jog, his well-tailored dark suit unable to hide his slightly protruding belly.

"Mr. Li! A pleasure, a true pleasure! I am Wang Qiang, the person in charge here." He reached out both hands enthusiastically, leaning forward slightly. "You truly have a discerning eye! Those two are top-tier, rare resources! You don't need to worry about the price; leave it to us!" He patted his chest, his tone resolute. "The company will also gift you a generous renovation fund as a token of our appreciation. What do you think?"

Li Yifei reached out and gave a brief, shallow handshake; his touch was warm and slightly damp. "I appreciate the trouble, Manager Wang." Wang Qiang took the opportunity to enthusiastically suggest lunch together.

At the table, Wang Qiang was sharp-witted and conversational, yet the topics always drifted, without leaving a trace, toward Li Yifei’s background. A young man who could mobilize such a massive sum of money so casually—could he be a mere fish in a pond? The inquisitive look in Wang Qiang’s eyes was thick and impossible to dissolve.

But Li Yifei was like a master helmsman; whenever Wang Qiang’s questions surfaced like hidden reefs beneath the water, he always managed to deflect them with effortless ease. Whether he was commenting on the "slightly overcooked" scallion sea cucumber just served, or sighing at the endless stream of traffic outside the window, saying, "Beijing is still so busy after the holidays," he let the small boat of conversation glide by, leaving no ripples. After several failed probes, Wang Qiang felt that the young man before him was as slippery as a fish in a deep pool, with no purchase to be found.

At two in the afternoon, in a more private conference room at the agency, the air was filled with the lingering scent of smoke and a hint of tension. Zhang Man led the two owners in.

The villa owner, Mr. Qian, had his brand-name suit stretched tight across his body. The thick gold chain around his neck swayed with his slightly exaggerated movements, and his expression carried a forced, arrogant air. Mr. Qiao, the owner of the courtyard, was entirely different. He wore a high-quality indigo Tang suit, starched and stiff. His face was thin and refined, his eyes seemingly calm, but deep within lurked an unnoticeable anxiety, like an undercurrent churning at the bottom of an ancient well.

After brief pleasantries and seating, the atmosphere tightened. Mr. Qian spoke first, his voice booming with a flamboyant enthusiasm: "Oh, Manager Wang, Ms. Zhang, and this… Mr. Li, is it? A pleasure! If I hadn't set my sights on a better piece of land in the east of the city and didn't need the capital for turnover, I would never be willing to part with my Maple Forest villa. The renovations alone cost nearly ten million…" He waved his arms, attempting to add persuasive weight.

Li Yifei listened impassively, his gaze like a precise probe. Beneath the forced arrogance locked in Mr. Qian’s brow was a searing, burning urgency—as if he were being strangled by an invisible hand, every breath carrying a hint of smoke.

He turned to Mr. Qiao, his tone calm: "Mr. Qiao, your courtyard…"

The old man didn't wait for him to finish, jumping in with a speed faster than usual, a touch of unnoticeable desperation in his voice: "My son has already booked a place abroad, and he’s urging me… my wife is also anxious to go over…" Li Yifei keenly captured the uncontrollable tremor in the old man’s thin, withered knuckles as he lifted his teacup.

The urgency was real, but beyond the "grass is greener abroad" sentiment, there were perhaps other, unspeakable troubles.

"Mr. Qian," Li Yifei leaned forward slightly, his gaze landing like a physical weight on Mr. Qian’s slightly oily face, cutting off his intention to continue glorifying the villa’s luxury. "Eighty million—if I may be blunt, in the current market, that price is already in the clouds."

He traced a line in the air with his fingertip, as if slicing through some illusory foam. His voice was not loud, but every word was clear: "Housing prices are at the end of their tether. It’s cold at the top, and a fall is only a matter of time. A big boss like you knows that time is money. Fifty-five million," he stated a figure, firm and resolute. "Sign the contract today, transfer the title today, and the full amount will arrive immediately. It saves you worry, and it puts me at ease. Otherwise, with a property of this scale, when will the next sincere buyer appear? Can you afford the wait?" His final sentence was light, yet it struck Mr. Qian’s heart like a heavy hammer.

Before the words had finished echoing, Mr. Qiao had hurriedly cut in, his voice raspy with a sense of burning his bridges: "Mr. Li! If you are sincere about wanting my courtyard, fifty million! As long as you nod, we can sign today!" A flash of desperate, all-or-nothing light erupted in his murky eyes, as if a drowning man had finally grabbed the last piece of driftwood. His withered fingers gripped the teacup, his knuckles turning white.

Mr. Qian’s face turned a bruised purple. He glared viciously at the old man for "undercutting" him, his teeth clenched, the muscles in his cheeks bulging. He squeezed a stiff sound through his teeth: "Fine! Fifty-five million! Let's sign now!" Two pairs of eyes—one spraying the angry, frustrated fire of being undercut, the other shimmering with desperate, all-or-nothing hope—were like physical ropes, tightly binding Li Yifei.

Li Yifei looked around the room, a look of certainty and composure finally appearing on his face, like the first crack in a frozen river: "Good! You are both straightforward people. I will take both properties. Manager Wang, Ms. Zhang, please prepare the contracts."

The hum of the printer continued in the suddenly relaxed yet tense room, monotonous and rhythmic, like a background track playing for this high-stakes transaction. Page after page of black and white was spat out, signed, and stamped. Before the ink was dry, it already carried a massive promise.

When Li Yifei placed the final stroke of his name on the last document, the force pressing through the paper, dusk had already arrived outside like a giant brush dipped in thick ink, heavily painting the skyline of Beijing, silhouetting the towering high-rises into a forest of deep gray.

Li Yifei stood up. Zhang Man handed him a heavy kraft paper file bag. Inside were two sets of brand-new, cold keys; even through the paper, one could feel the hardness and chill of the metal.

"Mr. Li, all the paperwork is complete. Please keep the keys safe." Her voice carried a touch of lightness after completing a major task.

Li Yifei took the file bag. The heavy weight pressed into his palm, and the cold metal sensation seemed to pierce through the paper, yet strangely gave off a sense of real, reassuring warmth—this was the cornerstone that would anchor his future.

Stepping out of the brightly lit, warm glass doors of Hengtong Real Estate, the biting evening wind splashed against his face like ice water. Behind him, the bright light outlined the silhouette of Wang Qiang, his face filled with the satisfied smile of a harvest, while Zhang Man was looking down, quickly and efficiently tidying up the scattered documents.

Outside the door, Li Yifei merged alone into the city’s torrent of lights and flowing traffic.

He stopped and looked up at the narrow night sky, shattered into pieces by the towering buildings, and took a deep breath of air mixed with exhaust, dust, and the chill of early spring.

This roaring forest of steel and concrete, day and night, finally had a coordinate that belonged to him—the ancient depth hidden by the Great Lake, and the vast map of Yunshan waiting to be unfolded.

The nine-figure sum he had just hammered down bought more than just bricks, tiles, and land; it was the heavy, dull thud of firmly driving his future into the foundation of this giant city.

From this moment on, he was no longer a mere passerby or a cold observer of this city.

He tightened his grip on the kraft paper bag containing the keys; the sharp outlines of the keys pressed against his palm through the paper. Behind him, the city’s massive gears accelerated in the night, emitting an endless roar. And at this moment, what he held in his hand was the solid, tangible feeling of a wedge being embedded into the heart of this behemoth. The halo of the streetlamp stretched his shadow long before him, pointing straight into the depths of the long street where the traffic flowed.