Reaching the age of thirty, my income randomly doubled

The matter about tang Family.

In Song Yanxi's eyes, that was beyond excessive.

Besides, what kind of grand family do they think they are!

When housing prices were skyrocketing, their family was carefree, but how long did that last?

At most a year, and now that housing prices have leveled out, they're acting as if the world is ending.

Song Yanxi went to the Tang Family, reportedly caused a major scene, though Chen Pingsheng didn't ask for the details.

The pushy Tang Ma finally calmed down.

Moving forward, marrying a mama's boy really isn't the way to go, that's a lesson learned.

Speaking of Song Shuiqing, she started showing concern for her younger sister, Song Wu.

Song Wu surely isn't lacking for money, plus she's already a mother of two kids; her acting gigs in entertainment are purely out of passion.

When Song Yanxi went to visit her, Song Wu was still filming action scenes on set.

After leaving the spotlight for a few years, she returned only to remain a third-tier actress.

Though she certainly doesn't lack resources, Song Wu knows her own situation well—she doesn't have much star power. Unless she encounters an exceptional script,

it's unlikely for her projects to make waves.

Thus, she typically takes smaller productions with lower investment costs.

When Song Yanxi arrived, she noticed a young male actor on set who seemed ridiculously attentive toward her sister.

This isn't love; it's blatantly wearing 'climbing the ranks' on his forehead.

Song Yanxi felt a headache coming on. The entertainment industry is like that—though her sister isn't hugely famous, her status within the industry is far from ordinary.

Anyone with a shred of knowledge would understand that the power she wields far surpasses those of top-tier actresses.

Just take the TV drama sector—it used to be dominated by the four leading ladies of Eighty-Five Flower.

Now, Zhao Liying stands alone, even Yang Mi doesn't have the same prestige anymore.

The others are even less notable; the only one who can rival her is Liu Yifei from the same company.

When Zhao Liying encounters Song Wu, she still needs to behave.

Would you say her influence isn't significant?

Song Wu has already come to terms with reality; she doesn't intend to marry again. Thinking of those wanting to use her for their own rise, she won't shy away from relationships she enjoys but will avoid marriage altogether!

Song Yanxi found herself at a loss—her sister has reached this point, and she doesn't know how to intervene.

When she spoke to Liu Fen about it, Liu Fen seemed indifferent.

"The girl already has two sons with the surname Song; what else is there to say?"

"Let the younger daughter live as she pleases, marriage or no marriage."

Returning home, Song Yanxi shared her concerns with Chen Pingsheng.

"Husband, what do you think I should do about my sister's situation?"

"What can you do? Let nature take its course."

"But that's not ideal. All her suitors want to use her for their own gains."

"And what else did you expect?"

Chen Pingsheng shook his head, saying, "Accept reality. Your sister's already a mother of two—what kind of partner is she going to find now?"

"Divorced women do have it tough."

Song Yanxi decided to let it go; by her sister's current mindset, she wants freedom, not marriage, and certainly no constraints.

Living carefree into her sixties and seventies—she's walking the same path as Granny Liu.

Granny Liu, back in the 1980s, was a pillar of the entertainment industry, the kind of woman who'd fight her way to the top no matter the odds.

Someone like that—you'd find it hard to say anything to her.

Chen Pingsheng wasn't unwilling to intervene; he simply had no right. Everyone has the freedom to choose their own life path.

What could a brother-in-law possibly say?

In April, Wu City officially lifted its lockdown.

Two and a half months of being sealed off finally came to an end—a huge relief for anyone trapped inside that city.

Countless people drove away as soon as they could that night.

Afterwards, sporadic outbreaks cropped up everywhere, and Magic City wasn't spared either.

Everyone had to wear masks outdoors while government apps monitored their health codes.

Er Piya, terrified, took extreme measures—while most wore one mask, she wore at least three.

For this matter, there was nothing to explain; she was more diligent than anyone.

When stepping out, she didn't just wear masks—she donned special gloves and wore an expensive custom-made protective suit.

The spoiled brat, however, was more relaxed; aside from wearing a mask when out, there wasn't much else.

Golden Mountain headquarters took a similar stance. Tang Jing reported:

"Boss, things aren't looking optimistic right now."

"Even if they're not optimistic, the group still needs to keep operating as usual."

"True, though the daily losses are becoming a bit steep."

Tang Jing referred to the areas affected by outbreaks.

With this sudden wave of reopenings, fewer people were out shopping—at least a third reduction, if not half.

This posed a significant hit to the group's physical stores everywhere.

"No matter how steep, it won't affect payroll every fifth of the month."

"Fair point."

Tang Jing laughed, the tension in his chest seeming to ease a little.

As of now, employees under official contracts with the group totaled eighty-six thousand.

Not outsourced workers, but full-time employees entitled to benefits like insurance and housing funds.

No one could predict the losses from this unforeseen health crisis.

Nor could they tell when it would all finally blow over.

Everyone was waiting for the day it'd completely vanish.

The group headquarters had long prepared for contingencies and wasn't particularly worried.

There was no rush like that seen in the Tang Family, who acted like ants on a hot griddle.

Tang Jing also mentioned other matters—the Tengying Management College had been fully constructed.

Total investment exceeded 12 billion, and enrollment was slated for May.

This wasn't a 211 or 985 university but a vocational institution aimed at practical business knowledge.

The curriculum primarily catered to traditional industry-related managerial professions.

This type of school targeted small entrepreneurs, quite distinct from Mr. Ma's upscale Lakeside University.

At their level, many invested in founding colleges and schools.

While some view it as philanthropy, it's much more nuanced.

The deeper reasoning lies in the old adage: "Fate first, luck second, Feng Shui third, virtue fourth, and education fifth."

Among these, the best way to accumulate virtue is through building bridges.

Bridge-building symbolizes connecting others; wealthy magnates often donate to construct bridges to gain spiritual merit and fortune.

Next in line would be founding schools.

Chen Pingsheng himself had a top-tier Feng Shui team; for any major project, they'd first provide assessments.

Additionally, there were suggestions for him to finance twelve bridges, arranged in a Feng Shui-guided layout, to accumulate blessings and good fortune for the Old Chen Family.

Feng Shui like this is rarely accessible to ordinary folks.

Those with the means to engage with it usually put some faith in it.

Chen Pingsheng had sought opinions and set aside 5 billion to create a fund for bridge-building.

He planned to fully finance twelve aerial bridges whenever suitable locations were identified.

Beyond that, he had invested hundreds of billions in education initiatives.

There's good reason behind the popularity of investing in or donating to schools focused on public service.

Though not deeply invested in the belief system, he'd poured nearly 20 billion into this area over time.