Brewing wine in the village for five years, I paid rent on schedule, paid year-end dividends, and even paid out of pocket to build roads and channel water. Just as the wine deal was finalized at 80 per catty, my third uncle brought people to block my courtyard gate, seal my wine cellar, smash my water pipes, and demanded 720,000 on the spot for his share. I kept compromising out of family affection, but they pushed their luck. Fine, I won't use the mountain spring water anymore, and you won't get a single dime of your dividends either. Surveillance cameras, contracts, numbered wine—the good show is just beginning!