Momo's Gradual Change

C92. Sweet Sixteen.

Chapter 92: Sweet Sixteen

When Miao Jun emerged from his room, he held a bank card and a slip of paper.

Without a word, Song Yimo took the slip — a loan note — folded it carefully, and stowed it away.

“Hold on to it tight; don’t lose it.”

“I won’t.” Song Yimo stood up, “Let’s first pick up Grandma. Fifteen thousand isn’t a small amount; the bank will need her ID and presence.”

Miao Jun nodded, “We should let Aunt Song know as well.”

Once everything was settled, over thirty thousand yuan remained in Song Yimo’s account. Her grandmother didn’t ask questions but visibly relaxed; she allowed herself to spend more on food and other essentials.

On the 14th of the second lunar month, Song Yimo’s birthday fell on a monthly holiday.

Miao Jun and He Yi paused the preparations for their new shop and returned home, and Zhai Muyang flew in from abroad, bringing an assortment of gifts that covered the entire bed.

“Nothing too fancy; just things you can use,” Zhai Muyang patted her head. “Your hair’s getting longer.”

“Yes,” Song Yimo brushed her hand through it. “Thinking of cutting it.”

“Does it take too much time?”

“No, washing long or short hair is about the same.”

“Then don’t cut it; long hair suits you.”

Hearing her brother’s request, she immediately abandoned the idea. “You really brought too much, Dage.”

With a wide-eyed look, she reached for a life-sized stuffed animal — impossible to conceal her delight.

What young girl hasn’t dreamed of a pink, fairy-tale world?

She, too, had that dream.

When she was little, she’d often fantasized that one day her estranged parents would return, presenting her with a pink room filled with her favorite stuffed animals, a puffy dress, and a lace-covered princess bed draped in soft rose sheets.

It was the barest, simplest vision of a princess dream.

She’d never seen such a room, let alone had one. All she had were glimpses from other people’s tales, pieced together in her imagination.

Her brother had almost made that dream come true. All that was missing, it seemed, was the princess bed.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” he admitted. “I asked a few colleagues with daughters and followed their advice. Do you like them?”

Seeing the delicate skirts, accessories, and hairpins he’d brought, Song Yimo replied quietly, “I love them.”

“Your happiness is priceless; a little money’s no matter.” He pinched her cheek, his smile content.

Miao Zhiruo poked her head into the room, “Yimo, Zhai Dage, time to eat.”

Zhai Muyang waved her in, “Come here.”

With a skip, she stepped in.

He handed her another unopened bag. “This one’s for you.”

Miao Zhiruo looked to Yimo for permission.

Song Yimo nodded. "My Dage's gift. Go ahead and take it.

And so she did, though she could hardly resist opening it right then — the bag was huge!

To the elder generation, a birthday celebration for a child was modest, as to avoid “diminishing their blessings.”

So, today, they merely made a few extra dishes, along with a bowl of noodles topped with two eggs.

He Yi placed the bowl in front of Song Yimo, “I didn’t cook too many noodles. Be sure to finish it all.”

“I will.”

Grandma Song beamed at her, “I don’t have any big wishes, only that you stay healthy. Health is more important than anything.”

“Grandma, I’ll be fine.”

“Good, good! Now everyone, eat before it gets cold.”

It was the end of winter, and the chill lingered. The family fire box was still in use.

After the meal, they sat around the fire, warming themselves and chatting.

“The storefront is set up exactly as Yimo suggested. It’s empty now, but it looks quite upscale,” He Yi smiled, looking at her with pride. “Yimo, anytime you have an idea, share it with us. You’re brighter than all of us put together.”

That was because she’d seen it all before. She shifted the conversation, “Dad Miao, how’s the fruit supply chain looking?”

“It’s all set. We have to thank Muyang for the connection. I met the suppliers, and they have quality stock.” Miao Jun clinked his teacup with Zhai Muyang’s, “Thanks for your efforts.”

Zhai Muyang nodded, “The supplier’s a relative of one of my managers. He’s reliable, but you’ll have to figure out what types of fruit to buy on your own. No matter how much he’s willing to give you a good deal, he’s a businessman first — he won’t reveal which stock sells best.”

“I’m prepared for that. I’ll learn as I go; no need to worry about me.”

Satisfied, Zhai Muyang turned to Yimo, “Still smell the herbal medicine here; are you still taking it? How’s your health now? What did Dr. Chen say?”

He’d asked these questions online, but seeing her in person, he wanted to hear her answer.

“Yes, still taking it. Dr. Chen says I’ve improved a lot, but I should continue a while longer.”

“If it’s helping, then definitely keep it up.” He nodded, “I’ll be staying around a little longer this time.”

Her eyes brightened, “Does that mean the project is…”

“It’s a go. I’ll be working closely with the local government, so I need to be here.”

Miao Jun, catching his meaning, asked, “Is there a project in Xinghu County or Mang City?”

“It’s in Xinghu County.” He didn’t hide his plans, knowing the family was close with Yimo. “I’m planning to develop Xinghu County into a tourist destination. The groundwork began last year, and the geologists I brought in think it has great potential.”

Miao Jun and He Yi exchanged a look. To turn Xinghu County into a tourist attraction?

Was it what they thought?

He Yi hesitantly asked, “Are we talking about a place where you charge people admission?”

“More or less. The exact structure isn’t finalized yet.”

“But isn’t Xinghu County rather plain? Can it really become a tourist destination?”

“You’re too close to see its charm. Yimo, go grab those photos to show everyone.”

The pictures hadn’t been retouched, capturing the beauty of the place in its purest form. He Yi held up a photo of a serene bridge over flowing water. “I go there all the time, but it looks so beautiful in this picture.”

“Mom, look at this one! Oh, and this one!” Miao Zhiruo said excitedly. “Yimo, remember when we’d take that path to pick chestnuts?”

Looking at a photo of a sun-dappled path, Song Yimo recalled that beyond it lay a valley brimming with flowers in bloom. It hardly needed embellishment; add an old-style pavilion, and it would be breathtaking.

After looking through the pictures, Miao Jun sighed, “I never thought these sights could bring people here from miles away. Muyang, you truly have vision.”

“Any vision I have is thanks to Yimo.”