Chapter Thirty-Five: I Broke Up

In the heat of the afternoon, the air was stifling. Zhong Di was spinning in circles. His father and the others were still assembling the sheep shed, but before the structure was even finished, the sheep had already arrived.

Baa, baa, baa!

For a moment, the bleating of sheep filled the air, drawing the attention of the nearby farmers, who all gathered to watch the commotion.

"The Zhong family must have made a fortune lately! First they bought chickens, now sheep."

"Doesn’t look like they’re making money to me—seems like they’re just pouring it all right back in."

"If they’re not earning it, then where’s all this money coming from?"

"It was Audis and Porsches before, wasn’t it? Either the Zhong family has wealthy relatives now, or they’ve met a benefactor."

The chatter grew louder, the surroundings turning chaotic. When Zhong Di first returned home to farm, it hadn’t attracted nearly so much attention.

In this rural place, buying sheep was no small matter—especially dozens of them. Only well-off families would do such a thing. At current prices, a flock like this was worth close to a hundred thousand yuan—enough to buy half an apartment in Shache County.

Zhong Di heard the gossip, but let it drift away. As always, what others said was their concern, not his. Everyone has the right to choose their own life—it’s their own business.

"Where do you want the sheep?" The seller, after hopping off his truck, looked around for a suitable spot, glancing this way and that but finding nothing.

There was an unfinished sheep pen, but that clearly wouldn’t do.

"Wait a bit, I’ll set up a temporary enclosure," Zhong Di said, realizing with some dismay that while he had wanted to buy sheep, he hadn’t considered where to put them. He’d thought about letting them roam in the garden, but that wasn’t possible now—the eastern plot was already planted with vegetables, and the sheep would destroy everything.

Then he remembered—the iron mesh he’d bought earlier for a chicken coop. It would do for a makeshift sheep pen.

"Lend a hand here," he called to his father as he grabbed the mesh.

Two nearby uncles, seeing the plan, quickly joined in. It really was a clever solution.

"Smart lad!" the sheep seller praised, stepping in to help as well. After all, the customer’s problem was his to help solve.

The crowd watched for a while, but as the excitement faded, they drifted away. Still, word quickly spread that the Zhong family had struck it rich.

With everyone’s help, a temporary sheep pen was soon set up, though the iron mesh was only roughly fixed in place. The pen was just in front of the house, not large—thirty-some sheep in a confined, makeshift space.

Once Zhong Di paid and the sheep were unloaded, the seller departed.

Just then, Zhong Di’s phone rang. It was Shao Hong.

"Zhong Di, I... I broke up!" As soon as the call connected, Shao Hong’s voice, thick with tears, spilled out.

No one would have guessed, from his state now, that he’d once been the picture of toughness. Shao Hong was a sturdy man—he’d made a name for himself during freshman military training by flipping the instructor with a single move. That was how he’d met Xiao Xin.

Another breakup? Hardly a surprise—Shao Hong had broken up countless times, always getting back together after a few days. It was just a bit expensive, that was all.

This call—Zhong Di didn’t even need to ask—was surely about borrowing money.

"How much do you need this time? I’ll send you a transfer, but remember, you’ll have to pay it back someday."

"No, it’s not that. This time it’s real. Before she broke up with me, she already found someone else. She’s at a fancy restaurant with him right now—I saw it with my own eyes."

"Where are you now?" Zhong Di’s tone turned cold. This time, he was genuinely angry. Perhaps because he’d had a similar experience—the helplessness of being abandoned was almost unbearable for anyone.

He hadn’t intervened before because it was never this bad; Xiao Xin’s worst fault had been her love of money, which was still tolerable. But this was different.

"Dongyang Private Kitchen."

Shao Hong stammered out the name.

Dongyang? Was it that same Dongyang he supplied produce to?

Zhong Di quickly explained things to his father, opened the navigation app, and sped off toward the county center on his electric tricycle.

He drove as fast as he could. Half an hour later, Zhong Di arrived at the entrance of Dongyang Private Kitchen.

The restaurant’s décor was simple and soothing. Huge floor-to-ceiling windows took up almost the entire wall. These windows were one-way—you couldn’t see in from outside, but from inside, everything outside was clear. It gave patrons privacy while allowing them to watch the hustle and bustle of the street.

Zhong Di spotted a familiar figure—Shao Hong, with his burly, muscular build, a textbook strongman.

"Zhong Di, why are you here? I have nothing left now. I’ve lost everything."

Shao Hong seemed surprised to see Zhong Di, but quickly lost control of his emotions, and a grown man began to sob right there on the street.

Dongyang Private Kitchen was on the busiest street in Shache County—people were coming and going in droves, all casting curious glances at the half-crouched, weeping Shao Hong.

He looked utterly wretched, like a child.

"A grown man, and he’s crying?"

"Yeah, why’s he crying? He looks tough enough—turns out he’s just a big softie!"

"Don’t be so quick to judge. Maybe something terrible happened to him."

The onlookers whispered among themselves, but none approached to ask questions—they simply watched the spectacle from the sidelines.

The people of this land love a good scene—if there isn’t some drama to witness for a while, they grow restless.

Of course, all this drew the attention of those dining inside. Many turned to look, some leaning against the windows for a better view.

"Hey, isn’t that the fool you dumped?" At a table by the window, a middle-aged man was chatting with a young woman.

"Don’t mention him. Just the thought annoys me. Leave him be—let’s eat. Aren’t we going to your villa tonight? Today I wore that style you like best."

The middle-aged man, Wang Jiayi, was only thirty but looked older than his years. The young, pretty woman beside him was Xiao Xin.

"Tonight may not work," Wang Jiayi said, looking troubled. "My wife and I are in the middle of a nasty divorce—she’s after another five million. I can’t risk giving her any evidence. Think about it—all that money will be ours in the future."

"But it’s already been two months," Xiao Xin complained anxiously. "I don’t want to wait any longer. For you, I’ve even given up my free meal ticket. Can’t you just hurry up and divorce her? Once you do, we can get married."

"Just a little longer. Here—there’s thirty thousand yuan on this card. Make sure you book a nice hotel tonight," Wang Jiayi replied, clearly wanting to change the topic, handing over a bank card.

Xiao Xin grinned. See? One card now was worth ten, even thirty breakups before.

But just as she reached for the card, a hand suddenly came down over it.