CHAPTER 123: CHAPTER 17: FERTILE WATERS WON’T FLOW INTO A BITCH’S FIELD

"A pair of old foxes," Su Ziceng detested Shang Yin and Sister Mu from the bottom of her heart, dismissing their so-called strong support as nothing but hot air. She couldn’t understand it. Sister Mu’s age was one thing, but Shang Yin was only in his thirties; how could he cultivate such a fox-like cunning?

Faced with Su Ziceng’s aggressive questioning, Shang Yin simply replied, "Those are all valuable goods. As soon as you find a buyer, it’s like cash in hand; the price can only go up, not down." Su Ziceng had seen what he sent—just some mild alcohols, probably not to his taste, hence he swept them her way.

Sister Mu’s answer was even more definitive: "I was originally planning to contribute money too, but after visiting your store, I saw that the staff was dressed in a mess, nowhere near the standard of a professional Wine Shop, so I provided a batch of cherished fabrics to make proper attire for you, and incidentally replaced all the curtains and tablecloths in the shop."

Su Ziceng didn’t believe her nonsense for a second. Upon her first visit to "Admiration," she noticed that the dominant color of this year’s mainstream clothing in the store was wine red. Further inquiries with the sales staff about the scrap fabrics revealed that Sister Mu had already dealt with them.

"There’s ’active money’ and ’dead money,’ do you really understand the difference, young boss?" Zhou Dagen had asked Su Ziceng this question more than once.

"I know, the teachers at school have taught that and it’s also noted in Ms. Qian’s lecture materials; ’dead money’ is like real estate, cars, and such that can’t be immediately liquidated, while ’active money’ is cash, bank deposits, jewelry, stocks, and the like," Su Ziceng said with a distressed face, pushing a drawer with just a few coins in it.

"Then you need to come up with a solution quickly?" Zhou Dagen emphasized repeatedly, leaving Su Ziceng feeling as though she hadn’t hired a chief wine taster but instead a coachman—a coachman who whipped her fiercely with the "money" lash.

"Real estate is under my father’s control. The car has been rented out to others. The cash that’s left needs to cover this month’s salaries and renovation expenses. No bank deposits for now. Stocks, well, I’m not Qiu Zhi. Jewelry..." Su Ziceng wrote down the potential sources of liquidation one by one in the ledger.

"I can’t bear to sell them," Ms. Qian spoke truly profound words; a woman’s possessiveness over jewelry significantly increases its appreciation potential, but at the same time, it turns it from ’active’ to ’dead’ money.

"Don’t you still have the Su Family behind you?" Zhou Dagen hit the nail on the head in the most inconvenient way. If a daughter has no money, shouldn’t she ask her father to settle her debts?

"I have nothing behind me, aside from the Su surname, I have no connection with the Su Family," this was something that Su Ziceng was becoming increasingly aware of; she hadn’t even touched the pocket money Su Qingzhang deposited into her bank account each month anymore. Her past failures had taught her well that the more you rely on someone, the more difficult it becomes to break free.

Zhou Dagen, who had been incessantly talking, finally fell silent. He looked at Su Ziceng with a meaningful gaze, his tone more solemn. Su Ziceng was not an ordinary rich girl; she had her own ideas, and at least compared to others, she was determined to break free from that circle. So, the words of encouragement she had given him that day were not just idle talk over drinks.

As the quality of wine reflects the person, Zhou Dagen suddenly felt that his success or failure in the latter half of his life hinged on Su Ziceng. For some reason, he was not as timid as before, but instead spoke with an unwavering certainty, like a father, saying: "Boss, don’t worry, I’m here for you. I’ll try to convince those debt collectors to not cause trouble at your doorstep for now. As for the money, you’ll have to figure that out yourself."

Zhou Dagen followed through on his words and immediately set to work, braving the bitter cold as he traveled around for several days straight.

Once January arrived, the winter break had begun, and the weather in Mo City grew colder and colder. Crawling out of the warm bed became a painful ordeal. Before her rebirth, Su Ziceng had a saying: "Staying in bed during winter is a form of respect for the season." Having breakfast in bed at late morning was a common occurrence, but this year’s winter was different.

As usual, her absence from the breakfast table went unnoticed, Chang Mei would feign concern and remind the servants to call her to eat, only to be told that Su Ziceng had gone out early in the morning.

The world outside began to see a delicate snowfall, and even Su Qingzhang was delayed in leaving the house, but Su Ziceng had exceptionally left early that morning.

"Are you sure the miss left early and didn’t just never return?" Chang Chi liked to stir up trouble.