After Zhang Qingfeng finished washing his hair, the foul odor finally disappeared.

However, the results were quite impressive.

His hair looked clean and well-defined, though it did smell a bit.

Zhang Qingfeng shook his short hair and looked at Shen Nanchu with eager anticipation.

“How is it? Not bad, right?”

Shen Nanchu fell silent.

Was it ineffective? No, the results were decent.

But was it good? Well, the smell during the wash was undeniably unpleasant.

“Is this not acceptable?”

Liu Huaiyi grew nervous.

During the development process, he had offered Zhang Qingfeng quite a few suggestions.

Instead of answering directly, Shen Nanchu posed a question of her own.

“If you had to rate this shampoo on a scale of one to a hundred, what would you give it?”

Zhang Qingfeng hesitated. “99 points. The only flaw is the smell.”

“99 points? That might as well be zero.”

Shen Nanchu let out a cold laugh.

“A flaw? That’s just an excuse for incompetence.”

“No matter how good your tea-seed shampoo is, the stench alone will drive people away.”

Zhang Qingfeng and Liu Huaiyi fell silent.

“Surely some people would still buy it, right? Aside from the smell, it’s practically the same as other shampoos,” Zhang Qingfeng argued weakly.

“Two or three customers aren’t worth the effort.”

Shen Nanchu poured cold water on his optimism.

“I don’t want ‘good enough.’ I want unrivaled perfection.”

“Either flawless, or worthless—there’s no ‘close enough.'”

Go big or go home. That was Shen Nanchu’s motto.

Technical excellence was non-negotiable.

If he couldn’t deliver, she wouldn’t hesitate to replace him.

The world was a jungle—weaklings deserved to be weeded out. Why should she intervene?

If you couldn’t save yourself, how could you expect others to lend a hand?

Deadweight had no place in Shen Nanchu’s plans.

Under her sharp criticism, Zhang Qingfeng hung his head in shame.

A man in his forties, scolded by a woman barely in her twenties—and with irrefutable logic, no less—was downright humiliating.

Liu Huaiyi stayed quiet.

When Zhang Qingfeng was working on the formula, he had only offered a couple of casual remarks.

He knew Zhang Qingfeng well—a decent man, but rigid in his thinking.

Ironically, Shen Nanchu’s harsh words solidified Liu Huaiyi’s resolve.

He would join the Wang Family Village project.

“You’re right,” he said.

“I’ll fix the odor issue today and give you an answer tomorrow.”

Liu Huaiyi took over the tea-seed shampoo development.

Shen Nanchu was pleased.

“Thank you, Grandpa Liu.”

Now that was the right attitude.

After Shen Nanchu left, Zhang Qingfeng finally exhaled in relief.

“Comrade Shen may be young, but her presence rivals that of seasoned researchers.”

When her expression darkened, Zhang Qingfeng had trembled so hard he could barely speak.

“She wasn’t wrong. You lacked the drive for perfection,” Liu Huaiyi chided, shooting him a disapproving look.

Zhang Qingfeng scratched his head sheepishly.

That evening, the Pei family gathered for dinner.

“Mom, guess what? Pei Yunxi couldn’t stop staring at that new Comrade Zheng today,” Pei Yunzhou announced.

“Didn’t even blink!”

Before he could finish, Pei Yunxi shot him a glare.

“Pei Yunzhou, you’re the biggest gossip in Wang Family Village.”

“Am I wrong?” Pei Yunzhou teased.

Pei Yunxi flushed. “Mom, make him stop!”

“Enough, Yunzhou,” Pei’s Mother scolded sternly before softening her tone. “Yunxi, tell me about this Comrade Jiang.”

“Mom!”

Pei Yunxi groaned in exasperation.

“Sis-in-law, control Mom and Yunxi, will you?”

Huh?

Now the spotlight was on her?

Shen Nanchu swallowed her last bite, set down her chopsticks, and wiped her mouth.

“Tell me about this relocated family.”

Pei Yunzhou eagerly spilled everything he’d heard.

“The Zheng family has four members. The parents are researchers, the son—Zheng Tongwei—looks about Second Brother’s age, and the daughter, Zheng Qianqian, is my age.”

“Oh, and Zheng Tongwei is fair-skinned and handsome. Half the village girls and female educated youth have been sneaking glances at him.”

He added with a smirk,

“Pei Yunxi’s one of them.”

“Pei Yunzhou, you asking for a beating?”

Pei Yunxi rolled up her sleeves, ready to fight.

Pei Yunzhou ducked behind Pei’s Mother.

“Admit it—you were ogling Zheng Tongwei!”

“You idiot! I only looked because he reminded me of Big Brother!”

The moment the words left her mouth, Pei Yunxi froze and glanced at Shen Nanchu.

Seeing no reaction, she sighed in relief.

“Enough, both of you. Sit down and eat properly,” Pei’s Mother warned, eyeing the twins.

“Mom, it’s fine,” Shen Nanchu said.

She had no attachment to her so-called “ex-husband.”

After all, it wasn’t her who married him.

Pei’s Mother studied her, unsure whether to feel relieved or sad.

A mother’s heart ached for all her children.

Ah, well. The living mattered more.

Shen Nanchu didn’t dwell on the Zheng family’s arrival.

Relocation assignments were common—no reason to make a fuss.

Meanwhile, in the Wang Family Village ancestral hall, the Zheng family ate in silence.

Tonight’s meal was cooked in a borrowed kitchen—a bowl of coarse grain rice and a watery wild herb soup with barely a hint of oil.

Father Zheng pushed his bowl away after a few bites.

He had no appetite.

Mother Zheng did the same.

The couple lay down to rest without another word.

Zheng Qianqian managed half a bowl before giving up, shooting Zheng Tongwei a resentful glare before storming off to bed.

Zheng Tongwei ate mechanically, cleaning his plate before washing the dishes and lying down.

Staring at the darkened ceiling, his mind was blank with uncertainty.

The truth was, the Zheng family’s downfall wasn’t due to his parents—it was his fault.

He’d trusted the wrong person, aligned with the wrong faction, and now they were paying the price.

Was this tiny village his fate now?

Agitated, Zheng Tongwei got up and stepped outside.

The ancestral hall overlooked a pond.

Summer nights buzzed with frogs hunting insects under the moonlight.

Removing his glasses, Zheng Tongwei’s usually composed face twisted with something dark.

From his pocket, he drew a folded knife.

With one swift motion—

Croak.

Silence.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep