Chapter Three

During a crackdown on vice, the young girl was caught and sentenced to one year in prison.

The prison environment was stark and primitive, a place defined by repentance and cold, austere surroundings. Despite this, the girl remained resilient. She refused to implicate her family, instead relying entirely on herself. She even managed to earn a little extra money to support them, a testament to her filial piety, even going so far as to turn away her family when they came to visit.

Why? It requires explanation: she was a woman of stubborn integrity. She shouldered her own burdens and insisted that everything was fine. While most people would have crumbled under the pressure, she had her own internal logic. She refused to fall. There is nothing more admirable than a burning, passionate spirit. She was determined to start over, to truly turn a new leaf. I believe life is short; who hasn't faced setbacks? Without them, it wouldn't be life. I believe that if one wants to be brave and fearless, one must not be afraid. But is a lack of fear enough? I feel one must also possess sufficient courage—true grit.

Seeing her strength, I visited her often, bringing food and necessities, hoping they would be of use. She was surprisingly well-liked, and I heard she had even become a block leader. I asked her if she was suffering and told her she could tell me anything, promising to help her. I truly hoped to see her released soon. This came from the heart; I felt responsible for her as a dear friend and believed she was innocent. Without thinking, I even relayed my thoughts to the prison authorities.

The female warden in charge said, "She’s actually quite fierce. You don't know her like we do; she’s a troublemaker, impossible to deal with. If you knew the truth, you wouldn't pity her."

I asked, "Is she behaving badly? She is very kind."

"It's not that," she replied. "She is just incredibly stubborn, acting as if she's destined for greatness. That doesn't fly here; it makes things difficult."

I asked if her behavior was causing trouble or upsetting the staff.

"It's not about us being upset," she explained. "She’s not just obsessed with studying; she goes around preaching to others, telling them, 'You can do it,' and 'You have a future.' She acts like a teacher, and surprisingly, the others actually listen to her. Then there’s her disobedience. When they’re assigned to move bricks, she’s always getting into arguments over petty interests. She's not even good at the labor; we worry she can't handle it. Once, she was caught slacking off—a fellow inmate reported her, which was understandable—but then, you’ll never guess: she finished the entire prison's workload by herself. That wasn't what we meant for her to do."

"Then why didn't you stop her?"

"Who said we didn't? I threw a brick at her."

"You threw it at her?"

"No, she threw it at herself."

I felt she had truly proven herself, as she was released early for meritorious service, exactly as I had anticipated. Wanting to know more about my friend, I followed her progress.

She worked on a construction site, drenched in sweat, ensuring the building was completed on schedule. My heart ached for her; she was doing heavy manual labor, enduring a level of hardship I couldn't fathom. I went to watch her, but she didn't want me to see. I hid in a secluded spot, observing the remote site. She refused to admit defeat; every movement was intense. I didn't think money should be earned this way. Her motions were broad, demanding every ounce of her strength. I felt I couldn't let a young woman continue like this, but I hesitated, wanting to see more.

She was resolute, hoisting buckets of mortar and marching forward without a moment of respite. While others used tricks and shortcuts, she was risking her life. Disaster struck—a bucket fell, and she burst into tears. She began scooping the mortar up by hand, bit by bit. I watched, mesmerized, hoping she would just walk away, but she persisted with agonizing focus. I suddenly noticed something: blood. It was the cement, already hardening. I wanted to know why she wouldn't just let it go.

The foreman walked by, crouching and standing, passing right by me. I asked him what she was doing.

"Get lost!" he barked.

I suddenly understood: she wasn't just earning a living; there was something else at play. But what could I do? She finished scooping the bucket, dumped it into the mixer, and delivered it to the master builder, who looked at her with confusion.

"What are you looking at? Never seen it before?"

"It’s not that," he muttered. "There was no need for that. It’s just normal work, don't worry about it."

Perhaps you all think the young girl has grown up, but she hasn't—not really. She is capable of anything. I wondered how she would manage her future; she couldn't live like this forever. But life eventually settles into a dull, rippleless routine.

One day, the landlord, a real estate developer, saw her resilience—not only did she finish her own tasks, but she helped others. Impressed, he said, "You are different. Are you willing to work for me?"

She agreed.

Thus, Yang Bin gained a capable assistant. Being an assistant is no small feat; one must be a jack-of-all-trades, thoughtful, and a trusted confidant. Not just anyone can do it. Yang Bin’s business was vast. He had his own insights into the market, knowing which properties would turn a profit, and his assistant had to be just as sharp. He had taken a liking to her, and this was her big break.

It was a feat of unparalleled strength. Combining her intuition with the state of the real estate market, she offered a suggestion: be unyielding and take a calculated risk. This surprised Yang Bin, who was navigating a slump. "Why?" he asked. She replied, "It's intuition. A war without smoke is coming."

Yang Bin faced a choice: retreat and pay back the investors, or increase investment and push forward. It was a difficult dilemma. The girl gritted her teeth and said, "No! We push forward."

At the shareholders' meeting, she argued eloquently: "The Yang Corporation is an evergreen tree, but we are facing a major setback. To be clear, due to policy shifts and market saturation, I can no longer remain passive."

"It is true," she continued, "in many cities, our business has plummeted, and we cannot pay our workers' wages."

"When the situation is tough, we must be tougher. This is a battle of strength."

Countless days and nights followed, every second counting. Finally, they found a solution: while other developers were paralyzed, the "Concept Economy Housing" was born—fully furnished, yet highly economical. The shareholders unanimously approved. Yang Bin decided to expand, targeting every province and city in the country. From a cost perspective, it wasn't just about the pros outweighing the cons; it was about the coexistence of both.

Yang Bin was overjoyed. At a real estate conference, the reporter interviewed the girl, Leng Tiantian, who spoke on behalf of the Yang Corporation. Unexpectedly, Yang Bin had fallen in love with her.

The girl was a syphilis patient, nearing AIDS. She had a valid reason to refuse the boss, but Yang Bin, kept in the dark, began playing the romantic card.

He offered her everything—sports cars, villas, yachts. The girl was reaching her limit; perhaps it was because she was too beautiful.

Yang Bin asked casually, "I'll wait for you."

"I hate you."

"I don't understand. Really, just let me die. I love you so much, from the first moment I saw you—no, the first glance."

"Get out!"

"I beg you, let me live. I can't be without you. You are mine. That's it—that's all I have to say. You are mine. I have the means. I'm truly desperate. What else? I don't know. I've done everything I can. What more is there? I can't force you, can I? I'm a man; don't push me to the edge."

"Get out."

"Tell me your ending."

"My ending? I hate you."

I felt the girl had begun to mature, but I didn't know what else would happen to her. I met her and heard her story. It turned out Yang Bin still valued her and intended to send her for advanced studies. University education was a good thing, and she was willing. Seeing this positive turn, I was satisfied. Satisfied that my good friend had finally stood up for herself.

I told her, "Yang Bin seems like a good man. You must seize this opportunity. Do well in university and graduate early. I have the highest hopes for you. I hope you continue to thrive and prosper. I am proud to be your friend, because you rely on yourself, and those who do are worthy of respect."

But Yang Bin was truly in love with Leng Tiantian, almost obsessed. Why? Was it a matter of life or death? It was neither, because she made no choice.

When I wished her well, she was unexpectedly cold.

"I'm leaving."

"The hell you are! Don't talk nonsense. This is a good thing, why would you leave? You’re always like this—it's not right!"

"Right or not, I'm leaving."

I didn't want to ask anymore. I wouldn't interfere again.

"Because," she said, "I feel... I feel you don't understand."

"If I don't understand, then tell me!"

"I won't."

She left, leaving behind only these words: "Stop forcing me."