Chapter 421: Roasted Sweet Potatoes Are Better Than Mooncakes

“Is it snowing?”

“Damn, it really is snowing.”

“The first snow of 2010, it’s come a bit later than usual…”

Early in the morning, Jiang Qin woke up from his warm dorm room, felt a chill from outside, quickly wrapped himself tightly in his blanket, sat up at a forty-five-degree angle, and glanced outside the window.

At some point, Linchuan received its first snow of the year. Looking outside, everything was blanketed in white, probably starting from late last night.

Sometimes, it isn’t winter according to the calendar, but it is when it actually snows.

Just like it’s only spring when flowers bloom, summer when cicadas sing, and fall when trees turn yellow—today’s sudden snow also plunged Linchuan into the winter season.

Jiang Qin curled up in his blanket, his thoughts drifted to his childhood.

Back then, before the village moved collectively to Hongrong Homes, everyone lived in bungalows. To keep warm, every household’s main room had a large fireplace that was blazing red in winter. If you poked around with a fire poker, you’d always find a roasted sweet potato or two.

You’d grab one with the tongs, peel off the scorching skin, and inside it was soft and mushy with a sweet caramelized taste.

Indeed, it’s a waste not to roast sweet potatoes on a stove in this weather.

Sitting on his bed, Jiang Qin thought for a while and made himself hungry. Just as he was planning to get up and buy some roasted sweet potatoes, he saw a call from Yuan Youqin.

Every year when the temperature drops, this call from mom was a must, instructing to wear more clothes, especially cotton pants.

Dare to say you won’t wear them, and Yuan Youqin would add, “You’ll suffer when you’re old!”

Apparently, a distant relative of the old Jiang family ended up in a wheelchair because they didn’t wear cotton pants in winter, but it’s unclear which relative it was—just something mom always said since he was little.

“Make sure to wear cotton pants, got it? Also, I sent you two quilts—they’ve arrived. Remember to pick them up, one of them is for Nanshu.”

“I have quilts.”

“Aren’t those quilts issued by your school? Who knows if they’re any good. Last year, I wanted to send you some, but you insisted no. This year, I just sent them directly. Nothing’s warmer than a quilt made by your mom.”

In Jizhou, every autumn, the women gather—neighbors or sisters-in-law—it doesn’t matter. They meet at someone’s house and make quilts together.

They use top-quality cotton and the stitches are densely sewn by loving hands. The quilts are breathable, not heavy, yet exceptionally warm.

The two quilts Yuan Youqin sent were newly made this autumn. She was merely a participant in these activities, the type who only goes if invited.

But this year was different; Mrs. Yuan became the organizer and got so carried away she even made the wedding quilt for Jiang Qin.

“Don’t take it lightly. Remember to get the quilts before dark. It’s colder when the snow melts.”

“Got it, mom. I’m going now.”

“Also, there will be a significant drop in temperature in Linchuan over the next four days, and the flu is going around too. Make sure you and Nanshu take care of yourselves.”

Yuan Youqin kept on nagging. Though she wasn’t in Linchuan, she knew all about the temperature and health conditions there.

Jiang Qin agreed while getting dressed and leaving the dorm room.

Dense snowflakes still floated from the sky. The area between dorm buildings was a blanket of white, with pines and cypress bearing the weight of the snow, icicles hanging from them short and stout.

Boss Jiang, driving his Audi, slowed down as usual, circling around the less crowded Academy Fourth Road. Passing by the front square, he saw a crowd of young men and women having a snowball fight, and a long queue formed outside the Xitian entrance.

“Damn, to be young and full of energy.”

Jiang Qin smacked his lips, drove to the post office outside the campus, picked up the quilts, then stopped by the girls’ dorm to deliver them to Feng Nanshu on the fifth floor.

Feng Nanshu wore a yellow Rilakkuma pajama with a hood that had two semi-circular ears sticking out, matching her moist eyes, her clear, radiant face, and her prominent, perky nose, almost breaking Jiang Qin’s proud spirit the moment she stepped out of the dorm.

With the attributes of a goddess, she chose to tread the cute path—a double buff indeed.

“You wicked fairy, this poor monk has brought you a quilt.”

Feng Nanshu looked at the quilt in his hands and tilted her head slightly: “Jiang Qin, I have a quilt.”

“This one’s handmade by my mom.”

“Oh, then put it on quickly.”

Jiang Qin glanced at her: “Women change their minds fast.”

Feng Nanshu looked puzzled, then pitter-pattered back to her room and helped Jiang Qin put the quilt cover on.

Everyone in dorm 503 was there. In the cold winter month, more female students chose the dorm as their nest over going out and freezing in beauty.

Before Jiang Qin brought over the quilt, they were each busy with their own things—studying, watching dramas, doing homework, knitting scarves.

But once Jiang Qin arrived, they lost interest in anything else and just focused on having a good time.

No one knew who spread the word, but soon, a crowd had gathered at the entrance to 503 to watch Boss Jiang, a man frequently in the news, make a bed for his good friend.

It was rare enough for a boy to enter a girl’s dorm righteously, let alone one as famous as him.

Feng Nanshu watched the girls gathering outside, then suddenly picked up her work badge from the table and hung it around her neck.

“Jiang Qin, is the snow heavy outside?”

“Heavy. Almost lost a part of my pride out there, it took forever just to find it with the deep snow.”

Hearing Jiang Qin say the snow was heavy and seeing many people outside having snowball fights and building snowmen, the girls of 503 couldn’t sit still anymore. They expressed their desire to go out and ended up rushing into the snowy outdoors near the front square.

A group of seven, bracing the cold wind, moved from the girl’s dorm to the area near the front square, charging into the snow.

Fellow student Xiao Gao even picked up a twig and wrote his pen name in the snow, “Sweet-tooth Hui Hui,” making Jiang Qin smirk and think, “Even my pee has better handwriting than this.”

“You all have your fun. I’ll check the cafeteria for roasted sweet potatoes. Oh, would you like some?”

“Half for me is enough. I can’t finish a whole one. Thanks for the treat, Boss Jiang.”

“I’ll take half too.”

Jiang Qin turned and went to the cafeteria. As expected, he found roasted sweet potatoes for sale, bought four, tucked them inside his coat, then shivering, returned to the frozen outdoors and sat on a step.

The group-buying market has bloomed in the secondary markets. Through the efforts of the Linchuan Business Group and various group buys, numerous brands have risen to prominence, fiercely promoted by major websites, making fierce waves.

The third Fresh Harvest Mr. store in Xijing, which just opened yesterday, achieved a daily turnover that could rival an old-brand supermarket—a bizarre notion to others, but normal in the twisted world of group buying.

For platforms like Lashou Network and Nuomi, burning money meant leaving only ashes behind.

But for group buying, it meant gaining a brand suddenly well-known in the collaborative market.

In time, once the brand is well-established, they’ll rotate others in, aiming to shake up the market thoroughly.

He had once asked Cao Guangyu to invite Ren Ziqiang for a meal, earning a thank you from Ren. Now, using the funds of rivals to incubate brands within his business circle is essentially the same principle.

Business tricks and life hacks share similarities to some extent.

And what’s most important now? The official launch of the internal management system.

The market in second and third-tier cities is too fragmented, and competitors are everywhere. The current strategy for group buying is: if the enemy advances, we retreat; if the enemy camps, we harass; if the enemy tires, we strike; if the enemy retreats, we pursue.

But to execute such sophisticated maneuvers in the vast national market, the reliability of the internal management system is crucial.

Su Nai said the final round of optimizations could be completed in the next few days—it shouldn’t be much longer.

Indeed, a reborn person should have a system to truly stand out.

Jiang Qin took out a sweet potato, peeled it, and looked towards Feng Nanshu.

At that moment, the little rich girl, wearing khaki boots and wrapped in a down jacket, was squatting next to Gao Wenhui helping her build a snowman.

Her expression seemed colder than the snowy winter day, yet her eyes shimmered. Every time she stood up, whether it was her face or figure, there was something about her that made others around feel slightly ashamed.

Noticing Jiang Qin looking at her, the little rich girl suddenly stood up and ran towards him, her cute nose and fair hands red from the cold.

“Want some roasted sweet potato, good friend?”

“I don’t feel like sweet potatoes, good friend.”

Feng Nanshu shook her head then slipped her hands into Jiang Qin’s pockets to warm them.

Just then, Gao Wenhui, who had been building a snowman, also couldn’t stand the cold anymore and hurried over, asking Jiang Qin for a sweet potato.

Eating was secondary; what mattered was warming their hands.

“Fan Shuling gets excited seeing snow because she’s from the south, but what’s there for you to excite about, being from the north?”

“Even though I’m from the north, we only get to see snow once or twice each winter. Plus, do you know about global warming? Maybe we won’t see snow at all in the future.”

While eating her sweet potato, Gao Wenhui turned and started lecturing Jiang Qin about the ozone layer, claiming it’s shaped like an ellipse over Antarctica—as if she had seen it herself.

Xiao Gao, being somewhat of a tomboy, combined with the sticky, thoroughly cooked sweet potato, ended up with her mouth all messy.

Seeing this, the little rich girl paused for a moment, then suddenly tugged at Jiang Qin’s sleeve, “Brother, I want a roasted sweet potato.”

“?”

“Didn’t you say you didn’t want any?”

“I’ve changed my mind. I think roasted sweet potatoes taste better than mooncakes.”