Chapter Sixty-Nine: Proof

The first update has arrived; the second will come at eight this evening.

“Brother, why are you back so early? I thought you wouldn’t be home until the afternoon.” Zhang Song peered cautiously through the peephole in the iron door. When he saw Zhang Wei standing outside, he spoke a little sheepishly.

“Alright, just hurry up and let me in,” Zhang Wei urged.

“We haven’t seen each other for months, have we? Compared to last time, you look much thinner,” Zhang Song said as he opened the iron door and welcomed Zhang Wei inside.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Zhang Wei replied, touching his own cheek as he entered.

“You see yourself in the mirror every day—of course you wouldn’t notice. If Mom saw you, she’d be heartbroken. Then I could benefit a little too, maybe get some better meals,” Zhang Song said.

“How’s school lately?” Zhang Wei asked with concern.

“Oh, you know, just getting by,” Zhang Song shrugged.

Zhang Wei glanced around the living room and the three rooms beyond, not seeing any sign of their parents. “Aren’t Mom and Dad home?”

“They went with some neighbors, the ones who bought houses, to the new property site to argue with the construction company,” Zhang Song sighed.

Realizing his parents were out and Zhang Song probably didn’t know much about the house purchase, Zhang Wei decided to look at the documents himself to see if the developer had breached their contract. He turned and asked, “Are the subscription agreement, signing instructions, and the purchase contract at home? Can you show them to me?”

“I don’t even know what those are, and even if they’re at home, Mom and Dad must have hidden them away. How am I supposed to find them?” Zhang Song replied helplessly.

“Did they take the phone with them?” Zhang Wei’s family wasn’t well-off, and cell phones were expensive, so his parents only had one.

“Yeah, Dad took it when they left, just in case you came back and needed to find them,” Zhang Song said.

Zhang Wei pulled his phone from his trouser pocket and dialed his father. When the call connected, he said, “Hello, Dad.”

“Zhang Wei! Why are you calling so early? Zhang Song mentioned you were coming home today—did you get your train ticket?” his father asked.

“Dad, I’m already home. I saw you and Mom weren’t here, so I called to ask where you were,” Zhang Wei replied.

“You’re back so early? Don’t you usually arrive in the afternoon?” his father asked in surprise.

“Well, when I bought my ticket, I managed to get an earlier train, so I got home sooner this time,” Zhang Wei dodged, not mentioning that he knew about the house issue.

Before, Zhang Wei had no spare money and was careful with every expense, reluctant to pay the high price for the bullet train. He would take a special express in the afternoon, so he always arrived later.

“Alright, just rest at home for now. When we come back at noon, I’ll have your mom make your favorite dishes,” his father said.

“Dad, can you and Mom come home now? There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Zhang Wei urged.

Though he had a general idea of the situation, Zhang Wei didn’t know the details. Only by reading the contract could he understand the nature of the matter. He also didn’t want his parents to worry any longer and wanted to tell them as soon as possible that he had enough money for the house.

“Zhang Wei, did Zhang Song tell you something? Is that why you’re in such a hurry?” His father sensed something was wrong.

“Dad, it’s hard to explain everything over the phone. It’s best if you and Mom come home quickly,” Zhang Wei pleaded earnestly.

Zhang Wei wanted to tell his parents that he had earned a large sum of money while away and was now worth over a million, but he didn’t know if that would shock them. After all, for his parents, that amount was an unimaginable fortune they could never hope to earn in a lifetime.

“Alright, your mom and I will buy some groceries and head straight home,” his father agreed after a brief silence.

Relieved that he had finally convinced his father, Zhang Wei felt a weight lift from his heart. The call ended.

“Brother, is that fruit phone of yours real or fake? It’s not some high-quality knockoff, is it?” Zhang Song eyed the phone in Zhang Wei’s hand with envy. “But I have to say, even if it’s a knockoff, it looks pretty impressive.”

“If you like it, I’ll buy you one in a few days,” Zhang Wei said generously, now that he had returned home in style. Buying his brother a phone was hardly a big deal.

“No, thanks. The fruit phone may be good-looking, but it’s still a knockoff. You might as well get me a Nokia for the same price. At least that’s genuine, and I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone calling me out,” Zhang Song said, his eyes alight with anticipation.

“As you wish.” Seeing that Zhang Song was convinced his phone was a fake and preferred a cheaper Nokia, Zhang Wei didn’t argue. Nokia phones were much less expensive, so he could save some money.

Zhang Wei was curious how Zhang Song would react if he knew the fruit phone was genuine and that Zhang Wei was willing to buy him one, but he chose the less flashy Nokia instead.

Besides, Zhang Song was still in school. Most students didn’t even have basic mobile phones, so using a Nokia was already impressive. If he showed up with a rare fruit phone, it would draw too much attention—not necessarily a good thing.

“Brother, is there really a solution to the house issue? Seeing Mom and Dad running around every day for this, I’m really worried,” Zhang Song asked.

“Don’t worry. I’ve made a lot of money in Beijing these past two months—far more than the price of a house. So Mom and Dad don’t need to worry about owing anyone; I can pay for it myself,” Zhang Wei explained.

“Really?” Zhang Song looked at him in disbelief, his tone filled with skepticism.

“Do you think I’d lie at a time like this?” Zhang Wei replied seriously.

“I still can’t believe it. You’ve only been gone a few months—how could you have made hundreds of thousands?” Zhang Song shook his head vigorously.

“It’s not just you—even Mom and Dad probably won’t believe it,” Zhang Wei said with a bitter smile. After a moment’s silence, he stood up and beckoned to his brother. “Come on, let’s go to the bank.”

“Brother, why do you want to go to the bank now?” Zhang Song asked, puzzled.

“To withdraw some cash!” Zhang Wei replied with a grand gesture.

He knew that if he didn’t show the money, neither his brother nor his parents would believe he could amass such wealth in just a few months. For his parents, who had worked half their lives to save a little over a hundred thousand, such sudden riches were nothing short of a fairy tale.

If this kind of overnight fortune happened to someone else, they might find it believable. But for Zhang Wei, whom they had watched grow up, they simply couldn’t accept it—not because they thought their son was incapable, but because of habitual ways of thinking.

So Zhang Wei’s plan was to go to the bank and withdraw over a hundred thousand in cash. Let the crisp banknotes speak for themselves. It might seem a little ostentatious, but it was the most direct and convincing way—far more effective than any explanation he could offer.