Lang Lin turned his head and saw a portly man. That familiar round face was something he could never forget. No matter how many years had passed, Uncle Wu had remained stout as ever, almost as if his girth itself had become his trademark.
"Hello, Uncle Wu. Do you still remember me?"
Wu Xichen frowned deeply, studying the young man's face. It did resemble someone he once knew, though the memory was blurred with age. Then, after a moment, his expression softened into a wide smile. "Well, if it isn't little Lin! How have you been all these years…"
But as his eyes drifted lower, they fell upon Lang Lin's leg, twisted and crooked. Wu's voice faltered, and his smile dimmed. He remembered once considering marrying his daughter to this boy, impressed by his talent and scholarly achievements. Back then, he thought entrusting his daughter's future to Lang Lin would be a wise decision. But now, seeing his friend's adopted son as a cripple, all such thoughts dissolved.
Lang Lin noticed the gaze fixed upon his leg. He understood it well enough. For him, this crippled limb was only a matter of time. Perhaps one day it might heal. After all, with the dimensional ring on his hand, he could open doors to countless worlds. He had already gained a rabbit from the Frozen Realm and novels that were making him money. Who was to say that one day he wouldn't stumble into a futuristic lab with advanced medical equipment? Perhaps luck would smile upon him yet.
"There's no need for that look, Uncle Wu," Lang Lin said firmly, though his tone remained calm. "I'm fine. Even if my leg isn't what it used to be, I'm still alive. That's more than enough."
"Hahaha, you're right about that." Wu Xichen stepped forward and pulled him into a warm embrace. The man was genuinely worried. To lose his foster father and then suffer such an injury—life had dealt Lang Lin a cruel hand indeed.
"So, Uncle Wu, are you still in business?" Lang Lin asked, genuine concern in his voice. He worried that this old print shop, run by someone he trusted, might not last. If he were forced to seek another printer, he feared he'd be cheated—after all, a cripple was easy prey. Laws could offer some protection, but in the face of greed and power, what did the law matter?
"We're still open," Wu Xichen replied with a bitter smile. "But only until the end of this month."
"What? Why? What happened?" Lang Lin asked, startled.
"It's simple. No one's bringing us work anymore. Without jobs, I can't pay my staff, and I can't afford my daughter's tuition. My Fan Fan is studying in Shanghai—she got into nursing school, but the costs are crushing. I've already been selling off possessions just to keep her afloat. If nothing changes this month, I'll have no choice but to sell this shop and return to the countryside to farm while sending her money for school." Wu sighed heavily. His daughter's future meant everything to him. Even if it broke his heart to let go of this old shop, he would do it without hesitation.
Lang Lin smiled faintly. "Uncle Wu, you may not need to sell your shop after all. Soon, you'll be buried in orders, struggling to keep up. And not just one-time work, either. Orders will come steadily, as long as you can meet deadlines."
"You mean someone is about to give me work? Is it your employer?" Wu's eyes lit up with hope. Even crippled, Lang Lin was still talented. Perhaps he had found employment under some powerful patron, who now intended to send work here out of trust in him.
In truth, Wu's guess was close—but not quite right. The patron was none other than Lang Lin himself.
"No, Uncle Wu," Lang Lin said with a grin, pointing at his own face. "The client is me. I'll be placing the orders."
"You? Really?" Wu scratched his chin, surprised. But realizing his words had sounded dismissive, he quickly forced a smile to cover it up. "So, what kind of printing do you need? And how many copies?"
"I need novels printed," Lang Lin replied. "At least five hundred copies for the first run. If you do well, I'll keep coming back to you."
"Five hundred?" Wu nearly shouted. Though not a huge number in the industry, hearing it promised steady income. The possibility of repeat orders made his heart race. If this was true, he might not have to sell the shop at all.
"That's right. Five hundred copies. Here are the specifications for the paper and print style I want." Lang Lin sat down, and they began discussing details.
After some back-and-forth, Wu finally nodded. "No problem. I'll charge you twenty yuan per copy. That's a special price, just for you. Nobody else would ever get this deal."
Lang Lin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Special price? This was basically the standard market rate. In truth, prices depended on volume—larger print runs always lowered costs. That was one advantage big publishing houses had. But he kept the thought to himself.
"I need them finished within one week," Lang Lin pressed. "If you can't manage that, then I'll have to—"
"Of course I can manage it!" Wu cut him off, puffing his chest proudly. "You forget who you're dealing with! And don't mind the empty shop—you don't see workers here now because I gave them time off. That's all. Once I call them back, production will start right away. Hahaha!"
"Good." Lang Lin placed a thick stack of bills on the table. "Here's five thousand yuan as a deposit. If everything's completed on schedule, I'll pay the rest—and keep bringing you work."
Wu's eyes gleamed at the sight of money, though he quickly masked his expression. "Rest assured, it'll be done on time, and the quality will rival the big publishers."
Some habits never changed. The old man's tendency to brag was exactly as Lang Lin remembered. Time might reshape appearances, but personalities were harder to alter.
They drew up a contract. If the deadline was missed, Wu would pay damages. Wu signed without complaint—seven days was more than enough, even with limited staff.
Lang Lin handed him the manuscript files. He wasn't worried about theft; the contract covered that. Besides, Wu wasn't the kind of man to betray trust. He was only a boastful old bear at heart.
As Lang Lin prepared to leave, he suddenly paused. "Oh, right. Uncle Wu, do you happen to have any spare workers? Someone honest and simple would be best—I don't need anyone too clever."
He had too much to handle. His Weibo account was exploding, and he needed help with payment checks and mailing orders. Even one extra pair of hands would ease the burden.
Wu pondered for a moment before answering. "There is one. A reliable fellow, lives here in the shop. He's a bit… unusual. Stays quiet most of the time, but he's hardworking and straightforward. In fact, he's part of the reason customers don't come in anymore. If you take him, just provide food and shelter. That'll be enough."
Wu's smile stretched wide. Today was a good day. Not only had he secured a big job, but he might finally offload his biggest source of trouble.
Lang Lin raised an eyebrow. Did that mean this worker was problematic?
"What do you mean, Uncle Wu?" he asked cautiously. "Why don't customers come because of him? Is he dangerous?"