Reborn in 2000: I'm the Boss's Driver

The first group of customers arrived at 7:03 a.m. the next day. Three wholesalers from the county town, dragging large black duffel bags, hurriedly scanned the stalls on both sides. When they reached "Juanzi Clothing," one of them stopped.

"This cut..." He reached out and touched the white lace shirt hanging on the outside, "It looks like the one from 'Qili Fang' in the Thirteen Factories of Guangzhou."

Wang Juan was tidying up the shelves when she heard this. She turned around with the kind of smile that Lin Fan had taught her – neither too eager nor too cold: "Boss has a good eye. These are the goods from 'Qili Fang'."

"Really?" The man's eyes lit up. "Their goods are hard to get; you have to wait in line."

"Our boss knows the manager over there," Wang Juan said naturally, taking out a copy of the purchase order from under the counter—of course, a modified version that only showed the "Qilifang" header and some item numbers. "Take a look, this is the batch order that just arrived last week."

Three wholesalers gathered around to look. Lin Fan observed from a distance, and seeing that Wang Juan calmly waited for them to finish looking before speaking, "This white lace shirt costs forty-eight yuan at the Thirteen Factories wholesale price, but it's fifty-two yuan here. However, if you buy ten or more, we'll charge you fifty yuan."

"Too expensive." The leader shook his head. "There are plenty of counterfeit versions on the market; you can get them for forty."

Wang Juan smiled, took the shirt off the hanger, and turned it inside out to reveal the label: "The counterfeit doesn't have this label. 'Qilifang' labels are woven labels, with neat threads that won't come undone after ten washes." She then turned up the hem, "There's a subtle pattern here; it's their anti-counterfeiting feature."

Lin Fan taught her these details when he was in Guangzhou. He remembered that Wang Juan had said in her previous life that she had suffered from counterfeit designs when she first started making clothes, and later learned to look at labels, loose threads, and pattern details.

The three men passed the shirts around, whispering amongst themselves. The leader looked up: "Let's take twenty to try first, and ten of those black pencil pants with them."

"Okay." Wang Juan turned around and called out, "Xiao Fang, write up the invoice."

The first transaction was 620 yuan, cash only. Wang Juan's fingers were steady as she counted the money, but Lin Fan noticed that her ears were slightly red—a reaction to the fading of nervousness.

By nine o'clock in the morning, the stall was already crowded with three groups of people. Xiao Li was in charge of taking orders and collecting money, Xiao Fang helped with packing and arranging goods, while Wang Juan moved through the crowd, introducing styles, quoting prices, and answering questions. Her voice was a little tense at first, but gradually it loosened up, and she could even joke with regular wholesalers while arranging the goods:

"Boss Li, don't forget to bring me some of your fried dough twists!"

"I won't forget! Come next week, I'll bring you a whole bag!"

Lin Fan watched for forty minutes, then turned and left the market. As he reached the door, he turned back and saw Wang Juan bending over to help a customer stuff packed clothes into a luggage bag. Her ponytail slipped off her shoulder, and she casually tucked it behind her ear, revealing fine downy hairs on her cheek in the morning light.

He knew that the line was secure.

Lin Fan returned to the Municipal Finance Bureau at exactly 8:50. He straightened the hem of his shirt at the entrance—Zhou Wenyuan had said that government officials should pay attention to their image; their shirts shouldn't be wrinkled, and their trousers should have straight creases.

The logistics department is located on the west side of the first floor of the office building. When Lin Fan pushed open the door, Sister Li was watering the pothos on the windowsill.

"Xiao Lin's back?" Sister Li turned around and smiled. "Was Guangzhou fun?"

"I didn't play much, I was mainly on business." Lin Fan took out a paper bag from his bag. "I brought you some chicken biscuits from Guangzhou, they say it's a long-established brand."

"Oh dear, how could I accept this!" Sister Li took it, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons with laughter. "You, even while on a business trip, still think of me."

"Of course." Lin Fan smiled and walked to his seat. The desk was spotless.

A note was on the table: "Xiao Lin: Come with me to the Transportation Bureau for a research visit on Wednesday the 27th in the morning. There's a provincial budget work meeting in the afternoon. Prepare the car and bring your notebook. Zhou."

The handwriting is strong and vigorous, and every sentence is crucial.

Lin Fan put away the note and began processing the backlog of documents. Most of them were routine tasks from the logistics department: office supply purchase requests, vehicle repair orders, meeting room reservations... He checked, signed, and filed them one by one, his movements practiced and efficient. His previous life's office experience had made him intimately familiar with these procedures, knowing which ones could be approved quickly and which ones required documentation.

At eleven o'clock, Zhou Wenyuan pushed open the door and came in.

"Section Chief." Lin Fan stood up.

Zhou Wenyuan sat down opposite him, took a document out of his briefcase, and said, "Take a look at this."

Lin Fan took it; it was a thick stack of documents, at least thirty pages long, titled "Several Opinions on Regulating the Management of Local Fiscal Funds" (draft for comments), issued by the Provincial Department of Finance.

"We'll be holding a special seminar next month, and each municipal bureau needs to submit their revision suggestions." Zhou Wenyuan took a drag of his cigarette. "Take some time to read it through, focusing on Chapter 3, 'Special Fund Supervision,' and Chapter 5, 'Budget Execution Assessment.' Give me a preliminary suggestion by next Wednesday; it doesn't need to be long, just two or three pages."

"clear."

This was Zhou Wenyuan's way of training him—not by directly teaching, but by giving him tasks, setting requirements, and observing his results. Lin Fan understood that this seemingly simple "reading notes" was actually an assessment of his policy comprehension and writing skills.

"By the way," Zhou Wenyuan casually mentioned, "your transfer to a support staff position has been finalized with the personnel department. Starting next month, your salary will be calculated as a regular support staff member, one thousand, plus various subsidies, it should reach around one thousand two hundred." (This salary will be the primary figure from now on; many readers have commented that it's set too high, so we'll use this as the standard.)

Lin Fan felt a warmth in his heart: "Thank you, Section Chief."

"No need to thank me, you did a great job." Zhou Wenyuan glanced at his watch. "The cafeteria has braised pork ribs for lunch, but if we go too late, we won't get any. Let's go."

The two walked out of the office one after the other. They ran into Deputy Section Chief Zhang from the Budget Department in the corridor, who greeted them with a smile: "Section Chief Zhou, taking Xiao Lin out to dinner again?"

"Yes, young people need to eat more as they grow." Zhou Wenyuan rarely made a joke.

Deputy Section Chief Zhang glanced at Lin Fan and said meaningfully, "Little Lin, you've chosen the right person to follow, Section Chief Zhou."

There was a hidden meaning in those words. Lin Fan pretended not to hear, nodding and smiling, "Section Chief Zhang, you flatter me."

The two got their food in the cafeteria and found seats by the window. Zhou Wenyuan ate quickly, but his movements were disciplined; his chopsticks didn't touch his bowl, and he chewed quietly. Lin Fan followed his pace and ate quietly as well.

Halfway through the meal, Zhou Wenyuan suddenly asked, "What is your father doing now?"

Lin Fan told the truth, "I found him a job as a night shift worker at our community's property management office."

"Hmm." Zhou Wenyuan picked up a piece of pork rib. "Old Chen from the logistics department at the Transportation Bureau and I have a good relationship. Their subordinate traffic team is short of a gatekeeper. It's a day shift, one day on, one day off. The main job is to register people coming in and out. The salary isn't very high, around 700, but it's stable."

Lin Fan paused with his chopsticks.

"If you think it's okay, I'll talk to Lao Chen this afternoon," Zhou Wenyuan said casually. "But I have to make it clear that it's a temporary job, not a permanent position."

"Section Chief..." Lin Fan put down his chopsticks, "Thank you for your help."

"It was nothing," Zhou Wenyuan waved his hand. "Old Chen owes me a favor. Besides, at your father's age, having a proper job is better than working the night shift."

Lin Fan knew this wasn't just a "small favor." Favors within the organization are dwindling with each use. Zhou Wenyuan was genuinely helping him eliminate any future worries.

"Thank you, Section Chief," he said earnestly. "I'll tell my father when I get home tonight."

"Okay." Zhou Wenyuan finished the last bite of his meal, wiped his mouth, and said, "I'm going to a meeting at the municipal government this afternoon, you don't need to come. Take a good look at that document, and you need to take notes when you go to the Transportation Bureau tomorrow."

"clear."

Lin Fan returned home at 7 p.m.

The mother was cooking in the kitchen, while the father sat on the sofa watching the news. Seeing Lin Fan enter, Lin Jianguo turned down the TV volume: "You're back? Everything's settled in Guangzhou?"

"It's all done." Lin Fan changed his shoes, walked over and sat down next to his father. "Dad, I need to talk to you about something."

"explain."

"My supervisor helped me find a job," Lin Fan said, carefully choosing his words. "It's a gatekeeper position at the traffic police station, day shift, one day on, one day off. The salary is 700 yuan, and they provide a uniform."

Lin Jianguo was taken aback: "Traffic team? A formal unit?"

"It's a temporary position within a subordinate unit," Lin Fan said honestly. "It's not a permanent position, but it's stable. It's also close to home, about a ten-minute bike ride."

The mother poked her head out from the kitchen: "Watching the front door? Is he the security guard?"

"Mom, he's a security guard." Lin Fan turned his head. "It's better than Dad, who works the night shift every day. Besides, being a security guard for the traffic police sounds better."

Lin Jianguo smiled and said that this job was good.

"When do you start work?" he asked.

"If you'd like, you can go this weekend," Lin Fan said. "The leaders have already given the go-ahead."

Lin Jianguo rubbed his hands together.

"Okay, okay." He nodded. "I'll go say hello in a bit and tell them that my son has found me another good job."

The mother wiped her hands on her apron and came over: "That uniform... is it a real police uniform?"

"He's an auxiliary police officer, he doesn't have shoulder insignia," Lin Fan explained, "but he looks legitimate."

Lin Jianguo's lips twitched, but he didn't speak. But Lin Fan saw that the faint lines at the corners of his father's eyes relaxed—it was a long-lost sense of satisfaction.

At dinner, the atmosphere at home was noticeably different. Mother cooked an extra dish of scrambled eggs with chives, and Father ate half a bowl more rice. My sister, Lin Ping, called and, upon hearing this, laughed on the other end of the line, "Dad's really something now, wearing his uniform to work!"

"Go away, go away." Lin Jianguo said with a hint of disgust, but a smile was on his face.

After dinner, Lin Fan returned to his room and called Wang Juan.

The call connected after three rings. It was noisy on the other end, with the sound of tearing packing tape. Someone shouted, "Sister Juan, do you still have this item in stock?"

"Wait a moment," Wang Juan said, followed by footsteps and the noise fading into the distance. "Okay, go ahead."

"How was your day?" Lin Fan asked.

"It's great!" Wang Juan's voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement. "We made over thirty orders this morning, and some old customers came back to restock this afternoon. Xiao Li calculated that our turnover today is over four thousand."

"What about the profit?"

"As you said, a 30% discount on the retail price is the wholesale price, and our average purchase price is 60% of the wholesale price." Wang Juan calculated quickly, "Today's gross profit is about 1,500. After deducting rent, utilities, and their salaries, the net profit should be 1,200."

1,200 a day, that's 36,000 a month. And that doesn't even include the peak season weekends.

"Are we stocking enough goods?" Lin Fan asked.

"The white lace shirts are almost sold out in all sizes, as are the black pencil pants," Wang Juan said. "I called Manager Li of 'Qilifang' this afternoon and ordered another fifty shirts and thirty pairs of pants. He said they'll be shipped tomorrow via express railmail and should arrive in three days."

"Well done," Lin Fan praised. "We can't let our best-selling items run out of stock. Next time we restock, we can increase the quantity appropriately."

"Hmm." Wang Juan paused, "Lin Fan..."

"What's wrong?"

"Today a wholesaler from the provincial capital said he wanted to become our distributor," Wang Juan said in a lower voice. "He said he could help us stock the products at the provincial capital's wholesale market, but we'd have to give him an 8% rebate."

Lin Fan raised an eyebrow. This was Wang Juan's first time facing a business negotiation independently.

"What did you say?"

"I said I'd have to ask the boss," Wang Juan confessed honestly. "But I think... we can give it a try. The market in the provincial capital is huge; we can't cover it all on our own."

Lin Fan laughed: "You already have a plan, why are you asking me?"

There was silence for a few seconds on the other end of the phone.

"I...I'm not sure," Wang Juan said softly. "What if he's a scammer? What if he takes the goods and doesn't pay?"

"So we need a contract, a deposit, and a small-batch trial," Lin Fan said slowly. "Here's what we'll do: have him come to the store next week to discuss it. I'll make time to go over there, and we can meet together."

"Okay." Wang Juan visibly relaxed. "When are you coming?"

"Saturday, I guess." Lin Fan calculated the time. "There's a lot going on at work this week, so I'll come see you on Saturday morning to check the accounts and also to see that person you mentioned."

"Mmm," Wang Juan replied, then asked, "Have you eaten?"

"I've eaten. What about you?"

"Not yet, we're just about to eat," Wang Juan said with a smile. "Xiao Fang went to buy a boxed lunch; she's adding chicken legs today."

"Yes, we should add it." Lin Fan smiled. "Alright, you go ahead and get busy. See you on Saturday."

After hanging up the phone, Lin Fan sat down at his desk and opened his notebook. The left page contained notes about work: tomorrow's key points for the Transportation Bureau's research, progress on reading provincial department documents, and his father's work arrangements. The right page was about business: this week's projected profits, restocking list, and the possibility of becoming a distributor in the provincial capital.

Two lines, extending in parallel, occasionally intersecting.

He closed his notebook and looked out the window. Anjuyuan was quiet and peaceful in the night, with car lights flowing like a river on the distant streets. It was winter of 2003. He had the soul of a forty-five-year-old in his twenty-year-old body, and he held countless more chips in his hands than in his previous life.

But the biggest asset is not prophecy, but the present moment—healthy parents, a stable sister, support from benefactors, and loved ones on the path to becoming better.

Is there a more worthwhile life than this?

At 8:00 a.m. on Wednesday, Lin Fan drove Zhou Wenyuan to the Transportation Bureau.

The car was an old Santana from the bureau, black, five years old, but well-maintained. Lin Fan had over ten years of driving experience in his previous life, so he drove this kind of car with ease. He paid attention to maintaining a steady speed, stopping smoothly at red lights, and always using his turn signal when changing lanes—Zhou Wenyuan noticed all these details.

"The car is getting more and more stable now," Zhou Wenyuan said, sitting in the back seat and flipping through the research outline. "It's even more stable than some experienced drivers."

"You flatter me, Section Chief." Lin Fan looked straight ahead.

"It's not an overstatement." Zhou Wenyuan closed the folder. "Driving in the government office isn't just about being a good driver. You have to be steady, follow the rules, and know when to go fast and when to go slow. You're quite quick to understand."

These words were quite meaningful. Lin Fan glanced at Zhou Wenyuan in the rearview mirror; the other man was resting with his eyes closed.

The Transportation Bureau building was more imposing than the Finance Bureau building, twelve stories high, its glass curtain wall reflecting the morning light. The security guard had clearly been notified in advance, raising the barrier as soon as he saw the license plate. Lin Fan parked the car in the designated space and got out to open the door for Zhou Wenyuan.

"Will you wait in the car, or come up with me?" Zhou Wenyuan asked.

"I'll follow the section chief's instructions."

"Let's do it together then," Zhou Wenyuan said. "Today, we'll mainly be listening to their report on the use of rural road maintenance funds. You take notes and compile them into a summary later."

"clear."

The conference room was on the seventh floor. When the two entered, the deputy director of the Transportation Bureau, the head of the Finance Department, the director of the Engineering Department, and others were already there. Zhou Wenyuan shook hands with each of them, and Lin Fan followed behind, bowing slightly, saying little but showing proper courtesy.

The meeting began. The head of the Finance Department of the Transportation Bureau reported on the data, and Zhou Wenyuan occasionally interjected with questions on several key points: the progress of fund disbursement, the rate of availability of matching funds, whether there was any misappropriation... The questions were sharp and went straight to the heart of the matter.

Lin Fan buried himself in taking notes, his pen flying across the paper. He not only recorded the conversations, but also marked key points, added question marks, and drew asterisks—a habit he had developed in his previous life, to facilitate post-meeting organization.

Halfway through the report, Zhou Wenyuan suddenly turned his head and said, "Xiao Lin, read aloud Article 3 of the 'Rural Road Maintenance Fund Management Measures' issued by the Provincial Department last year."

Lin Fan paused for a moment, but his hands didn't stop moving. He pulled out the document that had been prepared in advance from the file bag—Zhou Wenyuan's habit was to have Lin Fan prepare all the relevant documents before the research, arranged in chronological order.

Turning to the third page, Lin Fan clearly read aloud: "Article Three: Maintenance funds shall be managed in a special account and used for designated purposes only. No unit or individual may withhold, misappropriate, or divert them..."

After reading it aloud, Zhou Wenyuan nodded and looked at the deputy director of the Transportation Bureau: "Director Li, you just reported that some counties and districts are using maintenance funds to pay staff wages, which is clearly not in accordance with regulations."

Deputy Director Li looked somewhat embarrassed: "Section Chief Zhou, those at the grassroots level have their own difficulties..."

"You can raise your difficulties, but you can't break the rules." Zhou Wenyuan's tone was calm but firm. "Here's what we'll do: write a detailed explanation this week, clearly listing the specific circumstances, the amount, and the reasons. We'll take it back for further study."

"Okay, okay." Deputy Director Li nodded repeatedly.

The meeting continued. Lin Fan quietly breathed a sigh of relief—that scene just now was Zhou Wenyuan giving him a chance to "show off." In government offices, being specifically named by a leader on an important occasion is itself a form of recognition.

It was nearly noon when the meeting adjourned. The Transportation Bureau offered a working lunch, but Zhou Wenyuan declined, saying, "I have a meeting at the Provincial Department this afternoon, and I have to rush back."

Deputy Director Li didn't insist they stay and personally escorted them to the elevator. While waiting for the elevator, he glanced at Lin Fan and remarked, "This young comrade is taking very careful notes."

"Xiao Lin, he's from our bureau's office," Zhou Wenyuan introduced briefly. "A young man, willing to learn."

"The younger generation is truly formidable." Deputy Director Li smiled and patted Lin Fan on the shoulder. "Come visit often when you have time."

As the elevator doors closed, Zhou Wenyuan asked, "How are you feeling?"

"When Deputy Director Li patted me at the end, his palms were sweaty," Lin Fan said frankly. "There's definitely something wrong with how they used the funds."

Zhou Wenyuan laughed: "You noticed? But we won't delve into it today. We're the finance department, not the audit department. Let's stop here and give them time to rectify things, rather than tearing each other apart on the spot."

"What if they don't make the changes?"

"Then we'll give them special attention during the next joint audit," Zhou Wenyuan said casually. "When working in government, you have to know how to leave room for maneuver and how to have a backup plan."

Lin Fan nodded and noted it down.

Back in the car, Zhou Wenyuan took an envelope from his briefcase and handed it to Lin Fan: "Take this to Old Chen in the logistics department this afternoon."

Lin Fan took the envelope, which was unsealed. Inside were several shopping cards, not worth much, totaling one thousand yuan.

"Just say it's a small token of my appreciation to thank him for his help." Zhou Wenyuan closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. "You know the rules, don't make a fuss."

"clear."

After dropping Zhou Wenyuan off at the bureau, Lin Fan drove to the logistics department of the transportation bureau. Old Chen was a middle-aged man in his early fifties, fat and bald, but with bright eyes. Seeing Lin Fan arrive, he smiled and offered him a seat and poured him tea.

"Section Chief Zhou, you're too kind." Old Chen took the envelope, locked it in the drawer without even looking at it, and said, "I've already made arrangements for your father. He'll report for duty tomorrow at the Third Traffic Police Team, which is close to your home."

"Thank you for your trouble, Section Chief Chen." Lin Fan placed the two packs of cigarettes he had brought on the table—they were Yuxi cigarettes, not expensive, but presentable.

"Oh, that's too kind." Old Chen smiled even more broadly. "Xiao Lin, Section Chief Zhou thinks highly of you. Keep up the good work. If you need anything from the Transportation Bureau in the future, just come to me."

"Thank you, Section Chief Chen."

After leaving the Transportation Bureau, Lin Fan glanced at the time: 1:30 PM. He found a noodle shop, ordered a bowl of beef noodles, and texted Wang Juan while eating:

"How was your day?"

Five minutes later, the reply came: "It's outrageous. A tour group of over thirty women came this morning and bought more than forty pieces of clothing. Xiaofang's voice is hoarse from shouting."

Lin Fan smiled and replied, "I'll drink some honey water tonight. I'll go on Saturday, and I'll bring throat lozenges."

"Okay. Have you eaten?"

"Eating now."

"What did you eat?"

"Beef noodles."

"I want to eat it too."

Lin Fan looked at the message and imagined Wang Juan sitting in the noisy food stall, head down, typing on her phone. He replied, "I'll take you there on Saturday."

"real?"

"real."

A while later, they replied, "Then I'll wait."

The steam from the noodle soup blurred the phone screen. Lin Fan wiped it and saw a handwritten smiley face after the last sentence: :)

On Friday afternoon, Lin Fan handed Zhou Wenyuan a reading report on the "Several Opinions on Regulating the Management of Local Fiscal Funds".

Three pages, handwritten, with neat handwriting. The first part is a summary, outlining the core spirit of the document; the second part is an interpretation of key clauses, analyzed in light of the actual situation in the city; the third part is a suggestion, proposing three highly actionable revisions.

Zhou Wenyuan looked at it for ten minutes, only raising his head once: "Is this suggestion of 'establishing a performance evaluation mechanism for fund utilization' your own idea?"

"We referenced some practices abroad, but combined them with our actual situation," Lin Fan replied cautiously. "I think simply monitoring where the funds go is not enough; we also need to see what effects the money has produced."

"Hmm." Zhou Wenyuan continued reading.

After reading it all, he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Well written. Clear logic and depth of thought." He paused. "The provincial department is holding a seminar next Wednesday; you'll be coming with me."

Lin Fan's heart skipped a beat: "Section Chief, is this... appropriate?"

"What's inappropriate about it?" Zhou Wenyuan retorted. "You wrote the report, and you know the thought process best. If the leaders ask about it later, you'll be the one to explain."

This is a greater opportunity, but also a greater test. At a provincial-level meeting, the attendees are at least section chiefs from various municipal bureaus; he, a mere support staff member—sitting there, is an anomaly.

But if Zhou Wenyuan dared to bring him, he dared to go.

"Okay." Lin Fan nodded. "What do I need to prepare?"

"Take a thorough look at this report, especially the three suggestions you made. You should be able to elaborate on each one for ten minutes," Zhou Wenyuan said. "In addition, review all the documents on fund management issued by the provincial department in the past three years so that you have a clear understanding of them."

"clear."

"And one more thing," Zhou Wenyuan took a notebook from the drawer and pushed it over, "this is for you."

Lin Fan took it; it was a hard-covered black notebook with the words "Provincial Finance Work Conference" printed on the cover, but the inside was still blank.

"A bad pen is worse than a good memory," Zhou Wenyuan said. "When you go out with me to meetings or research, write down all the important things. But remember, some things you can write down, and some things you can't. You'll have to figure out the right balance yourself."

"Thank you, Section Chief." Lin Fan stroked the cover of the notebook. This was a ceremonial conferment, signifying that Zhou Wenyuan had officially included him in the category of "one of his own."

Before leaving get off work, Lin Fan went to the personnel department and signed the form for his permanent position as a support staff member. The clerk, a young woman, glanced at Lin Fan's age and seemed somewhat surprised: "Promoted to a permanent position at twenty?"

"The leadership is being considerate," Lin Fan said with a smile.

The girl didn't ask any more questions, stamped the card, and said, "You'll get paid on the 5th of next month. Remember to check your card."

"Okay, thank you."

As Lin Fan walked out of the personnel department, he ran into Director Du in the corridor. Director Du clearly already knew the news and greeted him with a smile, "Congratulations, Lin!"

"It's all thanks to the leadership's guidance," Lin Fan said humbly.

"Section Chief Zhou has high hopes for you," Director Du said in a low voice. "Work hard and don't let him down."

"must."

On the bus home, Lin Fan looked out at the passing street scenes. In 2003, the city didn't have so many tall buildings. Small shops along the street hung banners saying "Big Sale," and posters outside music stores featured Jay Chou's "Ye Huimei." Everything was vibrant, everything was full of hope.

My phone vibrated; it was a text message from my sister, Lin Ping: "Dad got his uniform! He wore it and stood in front of the mirror for half an hour. Mom said he was vain."

Lin Fan replied, "Let Dad wear it. I'll come home for dinner and see if it looks good."

"He'll definitely look handsome! Mom said she's making braised pork."

"it is good."

Lin Fan put away his phone and closed his eyes. Had he seen such scenes in the flashback before his sudden death in his previous life? His father, in his uniform, smiled like a child; his mother was busy in the kitchen, muttering, "My son loves braised pork the most"; his sister sent him a text message, her tone full of everyday joy.

No. In my memories of my past life, there were only endless overtime, social engagements, performance pressure, and the relief of "finally I can rest" when I collapsed in front of the lottery shop.

In this life, what he wants is not immense wealth or power, but these things—the mundane, warm, and tangible aspects of human life.