The Divorced Wife of the Richest Man is Reborn

When Chen Meilan began planning the family expenses, she was initially misled by the prices of daily necessities, feeling like a wealthy person. However, reality proved to be harsh.

After the children finished their meal, she indulged in hiring a motorized tricycle to go into the city, heading straight for the largest state-owned department store in Xiping City.

The result was an immediate cold shower of reality.

All household appliances were exorbitantly priced in those years. A Chunlan air conditioner cost 3,800 yuan, a Hangtian brand refrigerator was 880 for the smallest model and 1,200 for a slightly larger one, while an 18-inch color TV was priced at 4,800 yuan.

The key issue was that money alone wasn't enough. Air conditioners and color TVs required purchase certificates, and without one, you couldn't even touch these items.

If she were to spend like this, the 18,000 yuan in her savings account would be depleted within three months. Moreover, before she could earn any income, she would face the reality that Yan Zhao's monthly salary might not even cover the family's utility bills.

She had to painfully give up on the air conditioner and color TV, opting to buy only the most essential item - a refrigerator.

Little Lang and Little Wang gazed greedily at a Shanghai Hangtian brand refrigerator, almost crawling inside it.

The saleswoman couldn't help but roll her eyes, saying, "Children, don't press your entire bodies against the refrigerator. You're dirtying it. Are you going to clean it?"

Little Wang immediately stepped back obediently, but Little Lang still couldn't resist reaching out to touch it.

Salespeople in the 1990s were at the peak of looking down on customers, all suffering from severe cross-eyes from glaring at patrons: "Does this child not have ears? Can't he understand human speech?"

Although they weren't her own children, Chen Meilan couldn't stand it anymore: "I'm buying one. Can't I open it and take a look?"

"If you want to open it, that's fine. Pay first," the saleswoman directly rolled her eyes at Chen Meilan.

It was only in this era of fixed salaries that salespeople could be so arrogant. Soon, with the reform of the retail industry and commission-based pay, they would have to change their attitude.

"I'll take this one. Does your store deliver? Please send it to my home," Chen Meilan said, directly taking out her money.

The saleswoman replied, "We can only deliver it to the front of the store. If you want it brought home, you'll have to hire a motorized tricycle."

This polite tone came from seeing Chen Meilan's thick stack of ten-yuan notes. Money talks, after all.

A refrigerator for 800 yuan, and it was hers.

"If I want to buy an air conditioner and a color TV, how can I get a purchase certificate?" Chen Meilan asked, her hand still pressing on the money she had laid out.

The saleswoman's tone became even more polite: "You need to get approval from your work unit for a purchase certificate. Only after your unit issues one can you buy."

In this era, most large appliances were domestically produced and in short supply. Only those with work units, connections, or backdoor channels could buy them. Ordinary people could only look on with envy.

"Then let's buy the refrigerator first, and wait a few days for the TV, air conditioner, and washing machine. What do you think?" Chen Meilan asked the children kindly.

Zhaodi, being her own daughter, had more confidence: "That's fine! Just getting a refrigerator is already amazing." This was already a dream come true.

Little Wang and Little Lang's faces were flushed red, clearly overexcited, standing guard by the refrigerator.

In those days, department stores offered no services. People buying refrigerators or air conditioners would bring their own carrying poles and ropes. They'd pay on the spot, several people would lift it, and they'd even set off firecrackers before leaving.

The saleswoman, who had been so dismissive earlier, now had a much better attitude. She called in two temporary workers with motorized tricycles from outside and instructed them to load the refrigerator onto the vehicle.

The children guarded the tricycle while Chen Meilan went back into the department store, stopping at the Yue-Sai cosmetics counter.

In her previous life, by the time Lu Jingyu became a billionaire, Chen Meilan had become a typical plain Jane.

Zhaodi had bought sets upon sets of cosmetics, but even the most expensive skincare products couldn't smooth away the wrinkles left by time. Starting skincare at fifty was too late.

Looking across the country, all the original wives who had fought alongside their billionaire husbands ended up like her.

Their husbands would go out accompanied by glamorous female secretaries, never taking them along. They themselves didn't like to mingle in such occasions either. The presence of young, beautiful, fresh college graduates only emphasized how they were yesterday's news.

She was luckier than others only in that Lu Jingyu hadn't abandoned her or brought his mistresses to her face. At least in the eyes of others, she seemed fortunate.

But no one knew that this was the result of her not catching him in the act, not caring, not managing, and rarely using his money - a trade-off for her magnanimity.

To hell with magnanimity, this life she wanted to live as she pleased.

"Ma'am, a set of Yue-Sai costs 380 yuan. Are you sure you want it?" The saleswoman was shocked and switched to a more fashionable form of address.

Chen Meilan immediately took out four stacks of ten-yuan notes, counted out twenty bills, and handed the rest to the saleswoman: "I'm sure."

This life, she wanted to take care of herself early on, not for any man, but to do justice to her reborn life.

When the motorized tricycle entered Yanguan Village, in an era where a family getting a black and white TV would be the talk of the village for days, a refrigerator caused an uproar among all the villagers.

"Meilan must have found a rich man, buying a refrigerator already?"

"Could he be richer than Xishan?"

"Hu Xiaomei wanted to buy a refrigerator for her brother, but Yan Xishan spat and almost raised his fist. If Meilan can afford a refrigerator, I reckon the man she found is even richer than a nouveau riche."

A single refrigerator instantly changed the villagers' perception, making them increasingly curious about Meilan's new husband, wondering who this mysterious figure could be.

As for Yan Xiaowang, the boy tightly hugged the large cardboard box, his little face flushed with joy. But when they reached the doorstep and the driver was about to unload and carry it into the house, he refused to let the driver enter.

"I can carry it in myself," he insisted, pointing at the box that was half a head taller than him.

The driver had chatted pleasantly with Chen Meilan along the way, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered with this heavy lifting. He smiled and patted the little boy's head: "Let uncle carry it, you can't lift this thing."

Looking at Chen Meilan's home, the driver smiled again: "Your house is quite unique, with vegetables planted all over the yard."

"Please don't enter our house, I can carry this refrigerator myself," Yan Xiaowang realized he indeed couldn't lift it and sought help from Little Lang: "Little Lang, you lift from the back, I'll carry it for us."

Even with her good temperament, Chen Meilan was about to lose her patience with the child's stubbornness.

But she had experienced this with Zhaodi and knew how long a single word from a stepparent could affect a child who had just entered the family.

Since Yan Xiaowang wouldn't let anyone else touch the refrigerator, let his father carry it. After all, his father had plenty of strength.

Chen Meilan still needed to hire someone, firstly to clear the vegetables in the yard and then pave it, and secondly to install window screens on all the windows. Otherwise, the mosquitoes alone would be enough to eat her and the children alive at night.

For lunch, they wouldn't have oil-splashed noodles. In this place where noodles were a staple, there were countless ways to prepare them. She bought a packet of vinegar, sautéed it with oil, added green onions and minced garlic, some seaweed and dried shrimp, blanched some green vegetables, and a simple bowl of sour soup noodles was ready.

One bowl per person, in this hot summer, a mouthful of cool, refreshing sour soup was most appetizing.

Little Lang and Zhaodi slurped their noodles, eating like little piglets, but Little Wang wouldn't come in, still guarding the refrigerator.

"Little Wang, no one can steal the refrigerator at the door, come in and eat," Chen Meilan called out.

"No, I've already seen at least three people who want to steal my refrigerator," Yan Xiaowang mumbled.

The sun was too hot. The little boy who had been so lively in the morning now looked like a wilted vegetable.

He touched the cardboard box, then touched the picture and shape of the refrigerator on the box. When he thought no one was looking, he even pressed his face against it, his eyebrows curved in a smile.

No wonder his birth mother called him a useless fool. This child's stubbornness was a bit thick-headed.

But seeing him wilting as he hugged the refrigerator, she felt sorry for him. So she had Zhaodi take a bowl of noodles to him: "Zhaodi, go, take this bowl of noodles to your Little Wang brother."

"Dad!" Suddenly, Yan Xiaowang called out joyfully: "Dad, we have a refrigerator now, come quickly and carry it in!"

In the middle of the day, Yan Zhao had returned, wearing military green trousers and holding his wide-brimmed hat in his hand.

"Why is there a refrigerator here?" Yan Zhao's dark face finally showed some expression. He looked a bit surprised.

Yan Xiaowang pointed at Chen Meilan and said, "She bought it. We now have a refrigerator in our home too." Giving himself a thumbs up, he added, "And I didn't let anyone into our house, you know."

Yan Zhao shot him a cold glare, and Little Wang fell silent.

These days, Yan Zhao should have been at home all the time, logically speaking.

Chen Meilan had returned and was staying in Yan Xishan's old house. Yan Xishan would surely come to make trouble. If you can't handle it, don't take on the job. Despite Yan Zhao's stern and cold demeanor, like a door god pasted on the entrance, he was exactly the door god Chen Meilan had invited for herself, meant to ward off Yan Xishan.

So when she saw him return, Chen Meilan warmly welcomed him, her face beaming with a smile. "Finished with work?"

"Just reported to the Jindong Road branch. Because I'm in charge of investigations, I urgently dealt with a batch of backlogged tasks last night. I can rest for a day or two now." Yan Zhao glanced around the courtyard and said, "I'll help you tidy up the yard."

He knows how to tidy up the yard?

"Do the windows need screens?" Yan Zhao asked again.

He can install window screens too?

"I'll get to it now," Yan Zhao said, already rolling up his sleeves.

Chen Meilan wanted to say that was enough. She knew men liked to show off a bit right after getting married.

But there was no need to appear so eager. After all, she could hire someone to do these chores if needed.

Rather than doing chores here, it would be better if Yan Zhao walked around Yanguan Village in his police uniform, letting the gossip-hungry villagers get an eyeful. After all, many people were dying to know who dared to live in Yan Xishan's house, and their curiosity was reaching a fever pitch.

However, the surprises Yan Zhao had in store for Chen Meilan today were far from over.

Sister-in-law Mao, under the pretext of a neighborly visit, was actually curious about what kind of man Meilan had found.

As soon as she reached the courtyard gate, she was stunned. "Isn't this... from the First Team, Yan Peiheng's son, little Yan Zhao? Your father was transferred, and that's why you moved away, right? It's been at least ten years since you've been back, hasn't it?"

So, Yan Zhao's old home was in Yanguan Village?

Yanguan Village was divided into seven teams. Chen Meilan lived in the Seventh Team, closest to the city, while the First Team was the farthest from the city.

Chen Meilan had heard of the name Yan Peiheng. He was said to be an old military officer from the village. Could it be that Yan Zhao was his son?

"I am Yan Zhao," Yan Zhao actually replied.

Sister-in-law Mao looked like she wanted to peel off Yan Zhao's face for a closer look, exclaiming repeatedly, "It really is little Yan Zhao!"

Turning back, she excitedly told Chen Meilan, "You probably don't know this, but Yan Zhao's family was in the First Team. He grew up in our village. Xishan used to smile a lot as a child, so everyone called him the Smiling King Yan. Yan Zhao, because of his fierce look, was nicknamed the Cold King Yan. Even though Yan Zhao was young, he had a mean punch. People always said, 'Despite Xishan being older, the Smiling King Yan couldn't beat the Cold King Yan.'"

Not only were Sister-in-law Mao's eyes about to pop out of her head, but Chen Meilan was also nearly floored.

The new man she married had apparently beaten up the nouveau riche when they were kids?

Her sister-in-law had truly done a marvelous job as a matchmaker.

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