The Return Of The Scorned Son In-law

Waiting for the Announcement

The first week after the auction was unbearable. Ten thousand yuan. A deed to Plot 47A tucked in the cheapest bank’s safety deposit box. Nothing else.

“We need jobs,” Lin Yue said that morning, circling want ads in the newspaper with a red pen. Her hair was tied back tight, eyes sharp. “My savings are gone. Your savings are in the land. We have enough for maybe two weeks of food and rent.”

I nodded. She was right. Every job application she submitted came back rejected. Tang Mei’s blacklist was everywhere. My options were limited—construction, delivery, janitorial jobs—the brutal cycle of exhaustion from the original timeline stared me in the face.

“What about freelance work?” I asked. “Something she can’t block.”

Lin Yue snorted. “Like what? I have a business degree from a top university, three years at Tang Corporation. Overqualified for entry-level work, blacklisted for everything else.”

My phone buzzed.

[Side Mission: Survive the waiting period.]

Just then a light bulb flickered above my head as my lips curled into a smile. Business consulting. That was it. Perfect. Why hadn't I thought of this before? It was certainly low overhead, with flexible hours, and the best part, Tang Mei had no leverage.

“What if we start our own consulting business?” I said. “Small business advisory. You have the credentials, I have the analysis skills. We help local businesses with planning, efficiency, growth strategies.”

Lin Yue’s eyes narrowed. “Consulting firms need capital, office space, reputation—”

“We don’t need any of that,” I said, grabbing a pen. “Phone number and flyers. The factory district is full of struggling shops—restaurants, repair services, vendors. People who need help but can’t pay Tang rates.”

“And can’t pay us either,” she pointed out.

“So we charge what they can afford. Fifty yuan an hour, sliding scale. Not trying to get rich—just survive three weeks until the tech park announcement.”

She stared at the ads, at me. “You really think this will work?”

“I think we don’t have better options.”

That afternoon we designed flyers on Liu Xia’s office computer. Five hundred printed on the cheapest paper available.

LIN & LI BUSINESS CONSULTING – Small Business Solutions, Big Results – Affordable Rates – First Consultation Free

Three days of posting flyers in the factory district. Lin Yue’s shoes were worn to the sole, my hands raw from stapling.

Two calls. That’s it.

First, a dumpling shop owner. Costs spiraling. Lin Yue spent three hours analyzing her supply chain. We swapped her vegetable supplier; she saved two hundred yuan per week. Paid us one hundred yuan, told three other shop owners.

Second, a clothing repair shop. Li Feng mode on full—market analysis, pivot marketing from repairs to alterations. Paid seventy-five yuan, promised recommendations.

By week two, ten clients. Barely enough to cover rent and food. But surviving.

Lin Yue changed. Tang family polish peeled off. She negotiated with street vendors, learned to cook with cheap ingredients, discovered the rhythm of a life where you earn every yuan.

One night I came home. She was scrubbing the bathroom floor, hands raw and chapped.

“We can’t afford a cleaning service,” she said, seeing my expression. “I can’t live in filth. So I’m learning.”

“You’ve changed,” I said.

“I had to.” She sat back on her heels. “My mother designed my life to make me helpless without the Tang family. I’m just realizing how deliberate it was. I can’t cook. Can’t clean. Can’t function. I was a decorative princess.”

“But you’re learning.”

“I’m trying.” She smiled, tired, fragile and fierce all at once. “Some days I want to call her, beg to come back, tell her she was right about everything.”

“But you don’t,” I said, voice tight. “Because then we’d be back where we started—the worthless son-in-law everyone looks down on. You’d be the puppet daughter.”

“I refuse,” she said, steel in her voice, peeling off her gloves. “I refuse to be that person.”

I pulled her close. She smelled like cheap soap and disinfectant, not perfume. She was beautiful, raw, real.

My phone buzzed.

[Timeline Update: Lin Yue’s character development complete. She has reached the strength she achieved in the original timeline at year seven. Warning: Tang Mei has noticed the silence. An attack is coming.]

It came the next morning.

Pounding on the door. 5:47 AM.

“Open up! City inspection!”

Lin Yue sat up instantly. “City inspection?”

I opened the door. Three men in vests, clipboards in hand. Chen Guowei behind them, smiling like a predator.

“Routine inspection,” one man said. “Complaints about this building: electrical violations, fire hazards, illegal business operations.”

“This is residential,” I said.

“You’ve been operating a consulting business without permits,” Chen Guowei said. “That’s illegal.”

Liu Xia had warned me. Residential business required permits. Two thousand yuan we didn’t have.

“We’re not operating a business,” Lin Yue said quickly. “Just helping neighbors informally.”

“You’re charging fees,” Chen Guowei snapped. “I have witness statements. Three clients confirm payments.”

He’d interrogated our clients. Tang Mei had them.

“We’ll stop,” I said. “No more consulting.”

“Too late. Violations occurred. Full inspection,” Chen Guowei ordered. The inspectors tore through the apartment. Exposed wiring, missing detectors, unauthorized modifications.

“Eight thousand yuan in fines,” the lead inspector said. “Payable in seven days or eviction.”

I sank to the floor, chest tight. Tang Mei’s play. She couldn’t stop the land, but she could crush us before the tech park announcement, force us to sell the deed.

“We’re not selling,” Lin Yue said.

“We might not have a choice. If we don’t pay—”

“Then we don’t pay. We fight them.” Her voice was steel. “My mother thinks she can nickel-and-dime us into submission. We survive six more days. That’s it.”

“How?” I asked. “We don’t have eight thousand yuan.”

“Old Zhang,” she said, jaw set.

We found Zhang Wei smoking on his plastic stool. Dark eyes, knowing.

“City inspection. Eight thousand yuan. We need to borrow it. One week. We’ll repay with interest.”

“I don’t have eight thousand yuan,” he said flat.

“Then call your friends,” Lin Yue said.

Seventy minutes later, six landlords, all burned by Tang Mei over the years, scraped together eight thousand yuan. Rumpled bills in a plastic bag.

“No interest,” Zhang Wei said. “You owe us a story. When you get rich from that land, come back and tell us exactly how.”

“Deal,” I said, throat tight.

We paid the fines. Chen Guowei’s expression was priceless.

“Receipt, please,” I said, dropping the cash.

That night I lay awake. Five more days. Five days until July 3rd, tech park announcement. Five days until everything changed.

My phone buzzed.

[Final Warning: Tang Mei’s last attack will be personal. She will target Lin Yue’s emotions. Be prepared. The announcement is coming. Hold strong.]

I looked at Lin Yue, asleep beside me. Peaceful for the first time in weeks.

Whatever came next, we’d face it together.

Five more days. I just need to survive five more days.