Shanghai, Autumn 2002
The afternoon sun was a pale gold coin hanging over the sycamore trees of the public park. It was an era of rapid change; the city was reaching for the sky with steel cranes, but in the park, the world was still simple.
Five-year-old Jiang Min sat alone on a weathered wooden bench, her small legs dangling. She was dressed in a simple, durable denim overall over a striped cotton shirt—the practical choice of a middle-class mother. In her lap was a small crinkly bag of shrimp crackers. She watched the other children with quiet intensity as they played Tiao Pi Jin (Rubber Band Skipping), their rhythmic chants filling the air. Min wanted to join, but she was content to observe, savoring the salty crunch of her snacks.
The peace shattered with a sharp, predatory bark.
A stray dog, mangy and wild-eyed, skidded into the clearing. The skipping ropes dropped as children scattered like startled sparrows. Min froze. Her bag of crackers slipped, spilling across the pavement. The dog's attention snapped to her, its low growl vibrating in the air as it trotted toward the bench.
Panic seized her. Min scrambled off the bench and tried to run, but her own feet betrayed her. She stumbled, her knee hitting the rough asphalt with a sickening scrape. She fell hard, the sting of the wound blooming instantly. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked back, the dog closing the distance, its teeth bared.
Thack!
A jagged stone bounced off the dog's flank. The animal yiped in surprise, spinning around to see a second small figure standing ten paces away. Confused and stung, the stray tucked its tail and fled into the bushes.
Min looked up through a blur of tears. Standing there was a girl who looked like she had stepped out of a luxury catalog. She wore a traditional Qipao-inspired red silk dress with intricate white embroidery, paired with spotless white tights and shiny black Mary Janes. Her hair was tied into two perfect buns with silk ribbons.
The girl walked toward her with a poise that was far beyond her years. "Don't fear," she said, her voice clear and bell-like. "The dog ran away."
She offered a small, soft hand. Min stared at the girl's warm, confident smile for a moment before reaching out. As she was pulled up, a sharp hiss of pain escaped her lips.
"You're hurt," the girl noted. She didn't wait for permission; she guided Min back to the bench with the authority of a young queen.
The girl reached into a small, velvet-lined handbag slung over her shoulder. She pulled out a colorful tin and extracted a bright crimson bandage. She knelt on the dusty ground—completely ignoring the risk to her expensive silk dress—and carefully pressed the bandage over Min's bleeding knee.
"There," the girl smiled, patting the bandage. "Now it won't hurt."
Min sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "Thank you. But... who are you?"
"My name is Le Mei. I am five years old," she said proudly. Then her eyes twinkled with mischief. "And you? Are you 'Crybaby'?"
Min's face flushed red, her irritation instantly replacing her fear. "My name isn't Crybaby! I'm Jiang Min, and I'm five years old too!"
Mei giggled, standing up and smoothing her skirts. "Okay, good. Now the dog won't come again. I'm leaving." She turned to walk toward a waiting black sedan at the park's edge.
"Stop!" Min shouted, standing up despite the sting in her leg. "I have to return the favor. For helping me."
Mei paused, looking back over her shoulder. "No need, Crybaby."
"My mother taught me to return whatever I receive!" Min insisted, her small fists clenched. "Love or hate, I return it all. So tell me what I should do to pay you back."
Mei studied Min for a long moment. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face—the first glimpse of the CEO she would one day become.
"On my sixth year, I am joining SHS—Shanghai High School," Mei said. "It is the best. If you want to return the favor, then work hard. Join SHS and become my friend."
She began to walk away, but Min called out after her, "Okay! I'll join! I'll join no matter what!"
Mei stopped one last time, her expression turning serious. "The entrance exam is very hard, Min."
"I don't care," Min yelled back, her eyes burning with resolve. "I'll see you at the exam center!"
Mei tilted her head, a soft, genuine warmth softening her features. "Min, right. I will be waiting for you." Mei Left.
At Min's home
At 7:30 PM, the stairwell of the modest Jiang apartment echoed with the rhythmic thud of tired footsteps. Jiang Ruo((A quiet, patient man who spent months away at dig sites. He taught Min how to look beneath the surface of things.) arrived at the door, his frame lean and slightly weathered from months under the sun at excavation sites. He wore a rumpled corduroy blazer over a simple turtleneck—the classic "intellectual" uniform of a 1990s scholar—and gripped a leather satchel overflowing with hand-annotated research papers.
He knocked, and the door was pulled open by Lin Xia((Practical, sharp, and hardworking. She worked in a mid-level management role at a logistics firm. She taught Min the "Return what you receive" policy to ensure her daughter wouldn't be stepped on in the competitive world of Shanghai.) . She was still in her professional attire—a sharp, grey high-waisted pencil skirt and a white blouse—but covered by a floral patterned apron, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.
"You're early today," Xia said, her eyes brightening.
"All my work is finished," Ruo said, sliding into his worn household slippers as Xia hung his blazer. He sank into the modest fabric sofa, the springs creaking familiarly. "I'm free for a week. This time, we spend as a family."
Xia's face transformed with a brilliant smile. "It's great. I'll take the week off starting tomorrow."
Ruo's expression suddenly faltered, a shadow of guilt crossing his face. He looked at the modest décor of their home. "Xia... I'm sorry. Because of my path, I haven't provided the financial life you and Min deserve. If you hadn't married me, you could have had a much easier life."
Xia sat beside him, taking his calloused hands in hers. "Look at me, Ruo." Her voice was firm—the voice of a manager who knew how to command a room. "You are one of the most reputed archaeologists in this province. So what if the university doesn't pay well? In a time where everyone is racing for business, you chose to honor our nation's heritage. You are often months away from home. Min and I are alone here, but we have never felt lonely. Because we love you, and we know you are doing something that matters. I don't need a lavish financial life. I don't need a high-profile career to feel fulfilled. Because you and Min... you are all I need. Even if I have to work to the bone every day, I will be happy. Because the time we spend together is worth more than any material thing people are chasing out there."
Ruo felt a lump in his throat. He pulled her into a tight embrace, both of them shedding quiet, happy tears.
"Okay, okay," Xia laughed, wiping her eyes. "You know my policy. Don't cry ."
Ruo pulled back from the hug, gently wiping a stray tear from his cheek with the pad of his thumb. He looked around the warm, yellow-lit living room. "Where is Min? What is she doing?"
"I've been busy in the kitchen preparing the evening dishes," Xia said, glancing toward the hallway. "I think she's in her room. Actually, ever since she returned from the park earlier today, she's been tucked away. She hasn't come out once."
Ruo's eyebrows climbed his forehead in curious surprise. Min was usually a whirlwind of energy after a day at the park. He gave Xia a knowing nod, and together, they moved toward the small bedroom door.
They pushed it open with agonizing slowness, the hinges giving a tiny, familiar creak. Inside, the desk lamp was the only light, casting a focused circle over Min's workspace. The five-year-old was fast asleep, her cheek pressed against the cool wood of the desk, her small chest rising and falling in a rhythmic, exhausted slumber.
Ruo and Xia shared a soft smile, stepping closer to see what had occupied her so intensely.
Spread out before her was a workbook filled with foundational math problems. In her messy, childish handwriting, she had worked through several solutions—some corrected, some underlined with fierce determination. Beside the numbers lay a separate sheet of paper with a drawing. It depicted two stick-figure girls holding hands; one wore denim overalls, and the other was dressed in a vibrant red.
Xia noticed the drawing and picked it up, showing it to Ruo. Their eyes met over the paper, a mixture of pride and wonder passing between them. Min wasn't just playing; she was processing the world she had encountered that afternoon.
Ruo then noticed a glossy piece of paper tucked under Min's arm, nearly crushed by her elbow. He slid it out carefully. It was an admissions brochure, its bold heading catching the light:
"THE ENTRANCE EXAM TO SHANGHAI PRIMARY DIVISION AFFILIATED TO SHANGHAI HIGH SCHOOL."Note: Students passing with top ranks are eligible for the Excellence Scholarship.
Xia leaned in, her voice a hushed, melodic whisper. "Min is already planning her future."
Ruo looked from the brochure to his sleeping daughter. The weight of his earlier guilt seemed to transform into a solid, unshakeable resolve. He gripped the edge of the brochure, his eyes gleaming with a father's fire.
"We will definitely make sure it happens," Ruo said, his voice low and steady. "Whatever it takes."
Xia leaned her head against Ruo's shoulder, her hand finding his and squeezing tight. In that small, quiet room, surrounded by the scent of old research papers and simmering dinner, they stood united. They didn't have a Mercedes or a penthouse, but they had a genius daughter and a dream that was just beginning to take flight.
At Le Mei 's house
Across the city, in a penthouse where the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the neon-lit Bund, Le Mei was not sleeping. She sat at a polished mahogany desk, her small back perfectly straight, surrounded by advanced English workbooks and logic puzzles. She was dressed in silk pajamas, a miniature version of a high-end lounge set.
The heavy oak doors opened silently. Madam Le entered. She was the definition of 2000s Shanghai power—wearing a tailored black power suit with padded shoulders and a string of oversized South Sea pearls. Her hair was swept back in a flawless, frozen bob.
She crept up behind her daughter. "BOO!"
Mei jumped, nearly knocking over her inkwell. "Ma! When did you get back?"
Madam Le laughed—a rare, rich sound—and lifted Mei into her lap. "Why so serious, my little pearl? You have months before the exam."
"I want to join SHS on my own," Mei said, her small face set with a chillingly familiar focus. "I will get the top rank. I will get the scholarship so I don't have to use your money."
Madam Le stroked Mei's hair, her eyes gleaming with pride. "My Mei is a good girl. You will make me proud."
The following week was a study in contrasts.
The Jiang Family spent their days in the sun. They took the public bus to the Aquarium and had picnics in Fuxing Park. In the evenings, Ruo sat with Min, teaching her how to identify ancient dynasties on a map, while Xia cooked simple, fragrant bowls of *mian*. Their house was filled with the sound of laughter and the smell of jasmine tea.
The Le Family spent their week in the clouds. Mei accompanied her mother to the LE Headquarters. She sat in a corner of the boardroom, watching silently as Madam Le commanded rooms of men twice her age. Mei studied her mother's posture, her tone, and her ruthlessness. They had late-night dinners in the office with the staff, eating expensive takeout from five-star hotels while discussing market trends.
One girl was learning the history of the earth; the other was learning how to own it.