Chapter 7: Everything Goes Smoothly! Happiness Is Shared!

Chu Lin carefully checked all the invoices and amounts he had prepared, going over them twice. Last month, he had supplied Zhenzhen for a total of ten days, with a cumulative amount of 483,263 yuan.

The aquaculture industry enjoys special tax support policies in many regions. Normally, small-scale or family-run operations are exempt from taxes and, in some places, even receive subsidies. Of course, since he was using a 500-mu shrimp farm as a cover to register as a company, he couldn’t benefit from such exemptions or subsidies.

Still, aquaculture enterprises in Min City have their own support policies. For sales under 450,000 yuan a month, taxes are exempted and there are even rebates. For amounts exceeding 450,000 yuan, only 20% of the sales profit is taxed, and part of it can be offset by further rebates.

Another thing was the cost calculation in aquaculture—since every operator is different, the industry standard estimates costs at around 15 to 20 yuan per jin. Since he was raising premium shrimp, he calculated at the highest, 20 yuan per jin. After running the numbers through the software, his profit over those ten days last month, after rebates, meant he owed 4,842.3 yuan in taxes.

In other words, for ten days last month, he would pay 4,842.3 yuan in taxes and keep a profit of 478,420.7 yuan.

This kind of business, without any capital investment, was pure windfall. If those engaging in risky, illegal trades found out, they’d be in tears.

Having sorted everything out, Chu Lin logged into the tax app on his phone and began filing his taxes.

Reporting and paying taxes are not the same thing. Tax reporting is simply declaring the amount; payment is the actual transfer of funds. Moreover, not everyone who reports taxes must pay them—some fall below the threshold or benefit from special policies.

The reporting process was quick. In about two hours, he received confirmation that his report had been accepted, which allowed him to finally breathe easier. The first step was done.

Afterward, he hailed a cab to the tax bureau. Once the report was accepted, he could collect the payment notice from the bureau and settle the tax bill. Although payment could be made online, given his special circumstances, he instinctively preferred to handle it in person.

Arriving at the tax bureau, Chu Lin entered the service hall. At this hour, it was empty—no lines necessary, since most people now handled these matters online with just a smartphone. Those who still came to pay at the counter were either first-timers or older independent operators who instinctively distrusted online processes.

“Sir, please show me your ID and related documents. I’ll check and print your tax payment voucher for verification,” the middle-aged woman at the counter intoned, following her script.

Chu Lin handed over his ID, invoices, and supporting materials. He’d expected a thorough review, but the clerk simply printed the tax voucher, quickly glanced over his documents, tapped a few keys on her computer, and said, “Sir, the total tax due is 4,142.3 yuan. You can pay by scanning the QR code or using the app.”

The amount was lower than he’d calculated—likely due to recent policy changes. Seeing how casually the clerk handled it, he realized his anxiety had been unnecessary. He couldn’t help saying, “Ma’am, have you double-checked? Maybe you should verify it once more?”

The clerk shot him a glare, clearly unwilling to dignify his question with a response—did he doubt her professionalism?

Chu Lin grinned awkwardly. Wasn’t she a seasoned pro?

He could only pay by scanning the code.

Once the payment succeeded, the clerk printed his tax certificate and handed it back with his ID.

Stepping out of the tax bureau, Chu Lin felt as if the very air tasted sweet.

From now on, as long as he kept the shrimp farm running as cover, paid taxes for several months, everything would be above board. Who would ever suspect he was making money without investment?

Just the shrimp alone brought in more than 40,000 yuan a day—over 1.2 million a month, and a cool 12 million a year. In certain online circles, an annual income of ten million might be the bare minimum—after all, with a bottle of beer, you could sleep until morning, and dream of mansions and villas.

But in reality, just imagining such a life felt like reaching the pinnacle.

In high spirits, Chu Lin returned to the seafood shop. He’d already moved out of his rented apartment, and now it was time to end the lease on the shop, too—he’d just take what he needed. The holding tank, for instance, was perfect for selecting egg-bearing shrimp.

A quick call got Liu to come and haul it away—simple and clean, especially since the lease was ending soon, so there was no hassle of subletting.

That night, Chu Lin cooked himself a meal. Not long after eating, while waiting for the game map to refresh, he received an invitation: “It’s my birthday tonight at Jinya KTV. Want to come? My husband’s away on a business trip!”

Chu Lin could only roll his eyes at the message and chose to ignore it.

Some things, once enough time has passed and you try them again, just don’t taste the same—the interest is gone.

Like a first love.

He’d deleted and blocked her long ago, but it was all Huang Bin’s fault—he’d ended up being introduced to his first love’s circle of friends when they were organizing a night out.

Though his parents had died young and he’d been on his own since seventeen with little money, he was good-looking, so girlfriends were never in short supply.

His first love was three years older, caring and attentive—she’d completely swept away his innocence. Young people always believe in love, but reality had taught him a hard lesson about the choice between romance and bread.

As for the girlfriends who came after, there was nothing much worth mentioning.

After reconnecting with his first love through Huang Bin’s group, he occasionally received her complaints about her husband, and then they met again at another gathering. A few drinks in, whether out of spite or other emotions, things happened naturally.

Afterward, she sent him all sorts of invitations like this. But having tasted the past again and finding it had changed, he no longer felt any interest.

It only made him less convinced by the idea of love.

Not having money meant never reaching the happy ending—that much was clear. But even for those who married and had kids, what was the point? Maybe the wife still yearned for her first love, and the first love played the villain.

All thanks to Huang Bin.

As he was grumbling about this, his phone rang—it was Huang Bin calling. What a coincidence.

He picked up. “Chu Lin, I want to use the 8,000 yuan commission you gave me. How about hitting Extreme Bar tonight with a few girls?”

Chu Lin shook his head. The guy was glued to bars.

But as the saying goes, youth is impulsive. At twenty-three, a single man naturally has plenty of energy to burn, so looking for an outlet was normal.

According to Huang Bin, bars were the best place to find a “fire extinguisher.”

Girls their age who hung out at bars were often still pretty good—at least, a fair number were almost new.

Chu Lin had gone out to bars with Huang Bin many times before. He had his own needs, after all. But he was only looking for a “fire extinguisher”—if they liked his looks, fine, but he had no interest in emotions. Any claim that you could party every night and still be a good girl was just nonsense.

As he was about to reply, a notification popped up in his game:

[Current Atlantis map is Level 1. One regular animal, the white shrimp, has refreshed!]
[It seems an oceanic undercurrent has brought some unexpected new animals into the map today!]

Seeing this, Chu Lin immediately spoke into the phone, “Huang Bin, I’ve got something to do tonight. Let’s hang out another time.”

He hung up without another word.

On the other end, Huang Bin was left holding his phone in frustration.

Something was definitely off with his buddy—what did it mean that he’d turned down two invitations in a row?

Chu Lin entered the Atlantis map right away and found the refreshed white shrimp. Among them, he quickly spotted some clams and scallops mixed in.

These two again. Last time he’d harvested over thirty jin and hadn’t finished eating them yet. Even with the +1 stat, eating too much got tiresome. Now they’d appeared again, but they didn’t add to his collection progress.

Chu Lin sighed and got to work, picking out the egg-bearing shrimp and putting them in the tank he’d brought from the seafood shop.

Then he gathered up the clams and scallops, along with the remaining shrimp, and put them all in a corner pond set aside for such things.

If the game brought in more unexpected animals, he’d put them there, too. If he couldn’t eat them all, he’d just keep them alive for later. When he wanted to eat or entertain friends, he could fish them out—a special kind of fun.

If Huang Bin came over, he could hand him a net and let him fish to his heart’s content—or even bring girls to do the same. It was just like a rural farm experience; the scene was different, but the joy was the same.

Most importantly, all the animals from Atlantis were Grade 1 quality, with flavor and texture far superior to ordinary seafood.

Add a couple of grills, and it would be perfect—fresh catch and a gourmet treat, all in one!