Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 237 P2P
North*, Tong** Road.

Ten o'clock in the morning.

The wind blew in through the windows of the five-story old building.

The study was small, containing a writing desk and a lamp base with peeling paint.

The man surnamed Li sat at the table, spreading out old letters, photos, and faxes, and photographing and archiving them page by page.

Several hard-shell document boxes were piled up in the corner, their labels long since yellowed and cracked.

Some had strings of numbers representing the date written on them, while others were simply left with a few illegible English letters.

At this moment, the man's phone screen was already hot, and the memory was almost full.

He rubbed his temples, feeling a bit short of breath, and got up to stretch his cervical spine.

At this moment, the door was pushed open.

The man looked up and saw his mother, wearing a short-sleeved house shirt and holding a plate of sliced ​​oranges.

"Not finished yet?" She frowned and looked at the pile of papers on the table. "Your dad's stuff really needs some space; there's hardly any room left in the house."

"That's about it," the man said casually.

The mother took two steps closer: "Why are you tidying all this up?"

The man smiled but did not answer.

"This is..." She raised her hand, flipped through a couple of pages, and asked in confusion, "The letter your father wrote to *** back then?"

“Yes,” the man said. “There’s also a contact form attached.”

"Contact form?" The mother paused for a moment. "When was it from?"

After she finished speaking, the man didn't answer. Instead, he spoke thoughtfully, "Mom, do you remember Zhao Wanpeng?"

Upon hearing this, the mother immediately nodded. "Of course I remember. He was transferred to London in the same batch as your father. Why are you bringing him up now?"

"We haven't heard from him for years, have we? Could something have happened to him?"

"Who told you that?" She gave the man a wary look. "And why are you asking about this?"

“Someone is looking for his son,” the man lied without batting an eye. “He’s an old acquaintance.”

"You should avoid associating with those people in the future."

As she spoke, the mother placed the plate on the table and turned to sit down in her chair. "Zhao Yifei has always been a scoundrel since he was a child. Your father once said, 'Old Zhao is a capable man, it's a pity his son is such a good-for-nothing.'"

The man was taken aback by his mother's strong reaction and was momentarily speechless.

"A few years ago, he was messing around with P2P financing, saying he was going to create a Chinese investment platform, but the project failed and he swindled a bunch of people out of their money."

"Your Aunt Shen invested 200,000 yuan in it, and we haven't even seen her yet."

"Where did he go?" The man swallowed hard.

"I don't know, but I'm completely too afraid to show my face."

"And what about Zhao Wanpeng?" The man, remembering the task Zhou Yi had given him, continued to press for an answer.

"Him? He's in a nursing home. About six months ago, Old Wang and his wife went to the United States to take care of their child and stopped by to see him."

"I heard from them that she's not doing very well," the mother said, shaking her head helplessly.

"Is he sick?"

"It's not a physical illness, it's a mental one."

"I live in constant fear, always feeling like I'm being watched. I don't write letters or answer phone calls."

"Old Wang said he now lives alone in a shabby single room."

"A perfectly healthy person has been dragged down to this state by his son."

After expressing her feelings, she was still a little nervous and said again, "No matter what, try not to get involved in that family's affairs."

The man said softly, "My dad... wasn't he his closest friend back then?"

"Back then, he had a good relationship with Lao Zhao, but it was just that they went abroad together and looked after each other."

"You'd be a fool to really consider this a life-or-death friendship."

"Old Zhao is good at building relationships, has better speaking skills than anyone else, is also a good writer, and always takes the lead in matters big and small."

"He's smart, but being too smart isn't good either; it can easily lead him astray." "Once a person goes astray, it's very difficult for him to come back."

The room fell silent, with only the soft rustling of the wind through the paper.

July is not a good time to visit the North.

The air conditioner wasn't set too high, but just looking at the white bricks paving the road made me feel hot and bothered.

Half a minute later, the man finally finished photographing the last few pages of the document and saved them to his phone.

He first opened the email, thought for a moment, and then took out the old photos that Zhou Yi had sent and handed them over.

"Mom, look, do you recognize those other two people in the photo?"

The mother picked up her phone and pushed her glasses up her nose.

In the video, three men and one woman stand on a street in a foreign country, smiling at the camera.

She scrutinized it carefully for a few seconds, her brows furrowing even deeper.

“I remember this dress. I made it for your dad in 1986. Your uncle sent it back from Hong Kong with a good piece of fabric.”

"But the people in the photo—"

She hesitated for a moment, then denied it decisively: "I don't know him."

He paused, then added, "He's not from the organization, definitely not."

"you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

The mother pushed the phone back and asked seriously, "Did something happen to you outside? I've never seen you so interested in these things before."

The man said in a low voice, "No, I just... suddenly became a little curious."

His mother stared at him for two seconds, then earnestly advised, "Let me tell you, there are some things you really shouldn't meddle in."

“In your dad’s generation, people were close to each other because of work; it wasn’t a matter of personal relationships.”

"Whether it's a photo or a person, so many years have passed. If you really want to find out the truth, not only will you get nowhere, but you'll also easily get into a lot of trouble."

The man outwardly agreed, but inwardly he was already plotting how to get the address of the nursing home from Wang Xiuyun and her husband.

The mother then changed the subject.

"Why haven't I seen you at work lately?" she asked. "Didn't you say the project was going through the approval process?"

The man was silent for a few seconds, then said, "It's over. The investors have withdrawn."

The mother sighed: "I told you long ago, you should have stayed and lived a stable life back then."

"I know."

"You know it's useful? Your dad was furious, but you didn't listen to him at all."

After saying that, she waved her hand, as if she didn't want to argue with him: "Alright, I won't say anything more. Go do whatever you want."

The man opened his mouth, as if to say something, but was interrupted again:

"How's Xiaotong doing lately? She'll be going to junior high next year, but I haven't seen you, her father, worrying about her."

The man's expression hardened. "She's alright, she's with her mother."

"It's been half a year since we last met."

"Ah."

The mother looked helpless. "You too, you can't discuss anything with your ex-wife, and things have turned out like this."

"Didn't we agree that I could pick you up on the weekend?"

“She’s busy with work,” the man said.

"Can't you take the initiative to help her when she's busy?" The mother sighed again. "Now that the child has her surname, what kind of behavior do you have?"

The man didn't say anything, lowered his head, and put a segment of orange into his mouth.

　The network is not very reliable.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)