Jenna Roland leaned against the couch, her fingers absently tapping the phone screen.

Sunlight streamed through the window, but she paid it no attention.

The numbers in her bank account were enough to support her and Milo comfortably. Yet she knew money wouldn't last forever without a steady income.

"Opening a restaurant?" She shook her head.

Just thinking about dealing with business licenses, taxes, ingredient sourcing, and staff management gave her a headache.

Her phone vibrated suddenly.

A short video caught her eye—a ponytailed girl selling colorful jewelry at a night market stall, the accessories glittering under string lights.

Jenna clicked into the account. It had over 200k followers.

"That profitable?" Her eyebrows shot up.

The wholesale market was in the east district. She'd shopped there before.

The wholesale prices were shockingly low. Reselling could triple the profit.

Jenna sat up straight.

She grabbed a calculator and punched in numbers rapidly.

"E-tricycle—$300. Display racks—$80. Initial inventory—$1,000..."

Compared to the hundreds of thousands needed for a restaurant, this was pocket change.

The washing machine beeped.

She got up to hang the laundry, still running calculations in her head.

"Clothing has higher margins than jewelry," she murmured.

Online vendor guides claimed summer outfits cost under $20 but could sell for $50-60 at night markets.

Milo's summer break had two weeks left.

His post-surgery recovery required another fortnight.

Perfect timing to prepare.

She opened a map app, marking popular night market locations.

A notification popped up.

The jewelry vendor had replied to her DM:

"Newbies should scout locations first. Urban Management patrols start at 7:30pm. Get a foldable table—you can pack up in 3 seconds when they come!"

Jenna burst out laughing.

She could already picture herself weaving through the night market with her e-tricycle.

This hands-on way of earning money gave her an unexpected sense of security.

Far better than staring at a computer screen in some office.

"Decision made." She clenched her fist.

Her notepad was filled with inventory lists and budgets.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting dappled shadows across her face.

For the first time, the path ahead seemed crystal clear.