Volume 1 / Chapter 39: Zhejiang Provincial Cancer Hospital

In the steady drizzle, Mò Wénlì had just finished a delivery and was pedaling his three-wheeled cart through the quiet streets, he slowed to a stop—not because of fatigue, but because something had caught his eye a vacant storefront—an odd sight, given that the location wasn’t half bad. He couldn’t help but wonder why no one had rented it.

This was the outskirts of Hangzhou, in a place separated from neighboring Yuhang District by a hill called Bànshān

Coincidentally, it was also quite close to Yǔkōng High School, where his daughter Mò Xuěyáo attended—just a ten-minute bike ride, give or take.

In terms of location, this spot was already pushing the edge of Hangzhou’s urban sprawl. There had been talks of annexing Yuhang into Hangzhou proper, but it hadn’t happened yet. So naturally, development in this borderline zone remained pretty average.

The road here was narrow, just two lanes with no green median. But in the 90s, car ownership wasn’t widespread. The road wasn’t congested—cars passed steadily, but there was no gridlock.

Technically, this was within city limits, but due to the terrain, the road sloped steadily uphill.

And at the very top of that slope stood a well-known institution: the Zhejiang Provincial Cancer Hospital.

This hospital specialized in cancer and tumors. Only those with some financial means could afford treatment here.

After all, in these days, the average person simply couldn’t afford to battle such serious illnesses.

The vacant shop that had caught his attention sat just below the hospital’s street. Located at a four-way intersection, in fact—anyone heading to the hospital would inevitably pass this storefront.

A clear business opportunity.

Mò Wénlì had been watching this area for a while now. Today, he finally made up his mind to stop the tricycle and find out how much the rent would be.

The entire street was built on a slope, with every shop perched level atop it.

After looking around for a spot, he finally parked his tricycle and braved the rain to approach the storefront. A handwritten notice was taped to the shuttered metal gate.

"For Rent, Not Transfer."

Good sign.

Mò Wénlì was pleased—it meant he might avoid some unnecessary expenses.

“Rent” meant dealing directly with the property owner. “Transfer,” on the other hand, involved someone who had previously rented the place and was now passing the remaining lease on to someone else—for a hefty fee.

Say, for example, the rent was ¥10,000 a year, but the transfer fee could be ¥50,000, with all sorts of “renovation” or “goodwill” charges tacked on. That was money burned.

Even though the street was sloped, the shops were all built level. Any uneven ground had already been adjusted with foundations to keep them flat. Standing in front of one, you wouldn't even notice the incline underneath.

He jotted down the number and pulled out his phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, who’s this?” The voice on the other end was speaking Mandarin tinged with a local accent.

“I’m calling about the shop listed for rent.”

“Oh, you’re interested in that one? We usually sign three-year contracts. Rent can be paid every six months.”

“How much is it per month?” Mò Wénlì asked, a little nervous.

“Not too expensive. Where are you right now?”

“Uh… I’m standing right outside the shop.”

“Let’s talk face to face then. Do you see that grocery store down the slope?”

“Yeah, I see it.”

“I’m in there. Come on in.”

“Got it.” Mò Wénlì hung up and stepped into the rain again, walking toward the shop.

The grocery store was fully stocked. Behind the counter sat a stylish elderly woman—gold-rimmed glasses, a head of permed curls. Probably around sixty or so.

“Hi, I’m the one who just called about the storefront.”

“Figured as much. Have a seat.”

“Ah… thanks.” Mò Wénlì sat down on the chair near the counter, Thinking it best to approach.

The woman smiled warmly and poured him a glass of water. She didn’t immediately mention the rent, instead asking, “So, why do you want to rent the place?”

“Well… to make a living, of course!” He laughed loudly, trying to brush off the awkwardness of the question.

“What kind of business are you planning?”

“A fruit shop, maybe. I noticed there aren’t any fruit shops on that street.”

“That’s true.” She sized him up, her gaze sharp but not unfriendly. “What’s your surname, if you don’t mind?”

“No need to be so formal,” Mò Wénlì replied quickly. “My surname’s Mò.”

“I’m Auntie Jīn, you can just call me that.”

“Nice to meet you, Auntie Jīn,” he chuckled. “You seem to own quite a few shops.”

“Actually, that entire row of shops belongs to me.”

“No wonder you’re not in a rush to rent this one out.”

“That’s right. I’d rather wait for the right tenant—someone steady, not the type who quits after a few months. That just causes more hassle" Auntie Jīn said, tapping the table with her fingers. “Have you run a shop before?”

“I have.”

“Why did you stop, then?”

“Well… various reasons.” Mò Wénlì scratched his head. “I was young and impulsive back then. Later, I worked at a company for many years, but I got laid off recently. So I’m thinking of starting over.”

“I see. And where do you live?”

“Near Déshèng.”

“That’s a bit far.”

“Just a little.”

“From your accent, you sound like a local?”

“Oh, no no—I’m not. But I’ve been in Hangzhou so long that I can speak the dialect.”

“Mm, not bad. Want to take a look at the place first?” She still hadn’t told him the rent.

“Sure,” he said patiently.

“You’re not using an umbrella?” Auntie Jīn followed him out with a large umbrella. “It’s still raining.”

“It’s just a light drizzle,” he replied, casually, in his short-sleeved shirt.

“You’re in good shape—ah, youth really is a gift,” She sighed, holding a large umbrella over the two of them.

“Haha, me? Young? My son—I mean, my daughter’s already in her first year of high school!” He reached into his pocket for a cigarette but hesitated, glancing at Auntie Jīn, and decided against it.

They rolled up the metal shutter. The space inside wasn’t big, but it was far from small either—just right for a modest fruit shop.

“This used to be a fruit shop, too. A lot of stuff is still left behind. Looks like you’ve got good timing,” Auntie Jīn said with a grin. “Maybe it’s fate.”

“Haha… maybe so.” He gave a modest laugh and started checking out the place thoroughly.

He really did seem serious about opening a business here—examining every nook and cranny.

“That door leads to…?” he asked.

“A small back room. You can use it for storage or even put a bed in there. But only one person would fit.”

She unlocked the door. Dust filled the air the moment it opened.

No windows inside. The room felt stifling.

Sleeping there would be more like getting by for a night than resting.

And it’d be sweltering in summer…

Still, it was practical. A basic but complete setup. No renovations needed—he could start almost immediately.

“What do you think?” Auntie Jīn asked with a smile.

“Looks good. So… how much is the rent?” He finally asked again.

“Hehe—actually, I’m not hurting for money,” she said, chuckling. “I feel we get along young man. You’re sharp, and you’ve got spirit.”

Being called a “young man” made Mò Wénlì scratch his head in embarrassment.

Sure, he was younger than her, but hardly a young man anymore.

"How about this-the monthly rent is one thousand..."

"One thousand yuan?" Mo Wenli excitedly rubbed his hands.

That would only be ¥12,000 for a whole year, which really wasn't expensive rent.

An average person's monthly salary was about a ¥1,000, and if you ran a store, once business picked up, you'd obviously earn more than that per month.

Excluding costs, you could at least earn ¥3,000 yuan, so paying ¥1,000 in rent was completely within acceptable range.

This price could be considered a personal favor- normally it wouldn't be this cheap.

After all, although this was the edge of Hangzhou, it was right next to the tumor hospital and at a crossroads. As long as you weren't too stupid, business wouldn't be hard to do.

If done well, earning ten thousand yuan a month would be easy.

Mo Wenli, who had been hauling goods for half a month, understood this deeply.

Just buying fruit wholesale from the wholesale market and selling it in a fruit store-the price difference was several times over.

Not just five times, even ten times was possible.

"Good... so I just need to pay half a year's rent in advance, right? That would be... six thousand."

After all, fruit was... a high-profit business.

"Haha, young man, why are you so anxious?" Aunt Jin once again called Mo Xueyao's father "young man."

"I haven't finished talking yet, the last tenant paid ¥1,000 a month, but since we get along, I’ll rent it to you for ¥800. You just pay utilities yourself.”

Wait, what? A landlord voluntarily lowering the rent?

He stared at her in disbelief.

It felt like a pie had fallen straight from the sky and landed on his face.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“I… It just seems too good to be true,” he said awkwardly. “It kind of makes me nervous.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t do things purely for profit. It’s all about gut feeling.” Auntie Jīn touched the gold—or perhaps gold-plated—earring on her earlobe. “What, you think I’d scam you after signing a contract?”

“Thank you, thank you… But I’ll still need to discuss this with my wife first…” Despite her sincerity, the unexpected generosity made him cautious. He didn’t want to fall into some hidden trap.

“Of course. Just come find me anytime these next few days.”

“The number I just called—that’s your personal number, right?”

“Yes—and no more calling me ‘you’ in the formal sense. Sounds too distant.”

“Ahaha… Well, we did just meet after all.” Mò Wénlì thumped his chest playfully. “Alright then, I’ll be in touch soon.”

“I’ll wait to hear from you,” Auntie Jīn replied with a smile, her eyes soft—like she was looking at her own son.