In the 90s, you could acquire max-level skills every 14 days.

Chapter 121 Speaking Frankly

Chen Ping.

Zhang Yong recognized him at a glance.

The moment their eyes met, Chen Ping's expression became unnatural.

He closed his notebook and tucked it under his arm, like a student caught red-handed by a teacher.

Zhang Yong carried the tray down the steps and walked steadily toward Chen Ping.

"Zhang Yong."

"Chen Ping." Zhang Yong placed the plate on the recycling rack next to the pillar and clapped his hands.

"What a coincidence, are you having dinner?"

"Ah—yes, I just came out of the international student cafeteria and was passing by." Chen Ping glanced behind Zhang Yong and then looked away.

Zhang Yong noticed that half of the notebook tucked under his arm was sticking out, with a few lines of tiny writing on it. It was too far away to read what it said, but the page-turning marks were very fresh.

I imagine I've memorized quite a lot.

"Ah, the weather is nice today. What have you been busy with lately?" Chen Ping seemed to be racking his brains to figure out how to start a natural conversation with Zhang Yong.

This is strange.

Zhang Yong ran through the situation in his mind. Chen Guoliang was being watched by the Economic Investigation Department in Baoding, and all five thugs they sent had been arrested, rendering their method of intimidation by force completely useless.

What else could the father do? He could only keep an eye on his son at school.

Moreover, the father couldn't say it directly, since his son didn't know much either.

The only suggestion I can offer is to observe who Zhang Yong associates with and see if he exhibits any strange behavior.

Chen Ping was also forced into this situation by his father.

It's pathetic that a returned overseas student has been reduced to being stalked.

"Nothing major," Zhang Yong smiled. "Teaching, writing articles, practicing boxing."

"Practicing boxing?" Chen Ping frowned slightly.

"Yes, Sanda (Chinese kickboxing)." Zhang Yong's tone was flat. "Last week at the Chaoyang District competition, amateur group, we won first place."

He stretched out his right hand and waved it in front of Chen Ping.

"Knocked out with one punch."

Chen Ping pursed his lips.

Zhang Yong saw it all clearly.

"Coach Zheng from the city's Sanda team gave me his business card and told me to come for a trial." Zhang Yong withdrew his hand and put it in his pocket. "But I still want to focus my energy on writing and improving my skills; I'll just treat boxing as a way to exercise."

Chen Ping tucked the notebook under his armpit even tighter.

"That's... pretty good," Chen Ping managed to squeeze out.

Zhang Yong stared at him for two seconds.

"Chen Ping, you mentioned last time that you would publish some different pieces of writing and discuss them with me. Have you finished writing them yet?"

Chen Ping's expression immediately turned grim.

"These are just minor differences in academic viewpoints; we can discuss them privately, there's no need to write them down." His voice was strained.

"Yes, it's normal to have different opinions." Zhang Yong nodded. "However, my next article will be published in 'October' soon, and I'd appreciate any guidance from Chen Ping then."

After saying this, Zhang Yong raised his hand and patted Chen Ping on the shoulder.

It was the exact same action Chen Ping took when he patted him on the shoulder in the library last time.

Chen Ping froze.

Zhang Yong smiled, turned around, and left.

The system panel silently appeared in my mind.

[Fighting Lv.5: Progress 13% (AFK — 30x speed)]

At this rate, I can reach Lv.6 in combat within half a month.

By then, let alone five thugs, even ten would be no match for them.

Chen Guoliang should think twice before making a move in Beijing; today's purpose is to intimidate them.

4:20 PM.

Jinsong Residential Area.

When Zhang Yong rode his Jialing 125 into the courtyard, he spotted a person squatting at the gate of the guardhouse from afar.

Zhang Defa.

-

He squatted by the flower bed, a cigarette between his fingers, the ash long but he didn't flick it off, his eyes fixed on the ants in the cracks between the paving stones.

Zhang Yong is very familiar with this pose.

The old man had something on his mind.

"Dad." Zhang Yong parked the car in the awning and walked over. "Why aren't you coming upstairs?"

Zhang Defa looked up at him, then lowered his head again.

"Your aunt called."

Zhang Yong paused for a moment.

"When?"

"They called the gatehouse an hour ago." Zhang Defa stubbed out his cigarette on the edge of the flower bed, pressing it down hard. "Grandpa Chen answered and called your mother down to listen. Your mother heard a couple of sentences and then told me to go answer it."

Zhang Yong pulled up a chair and sat down. "What did you say?"

Zhang Defa took a breath and kept his head down.

"Your aunt said—my brother has been in Beijing for almost ten days and hasn't made a single phone call back. The village landline has been trying to reach Zhang Dewang several times, but the call is always disconnected as soon as she answers. They don't know who called."

Zhang Yong's heart skipped a beat.

Those disconnected phone calls were probably Ma Degui's men testing the waters.

"What else did your aunt say?"

"She said she wanted your younger cousin, Zhang Chao, to come to Beijing to find someone." Zhang Defa's voice was muffled. "Zhang Chao is currently farming at home, and the work in the fields is almost finished. She's worried something might happen, so she wanted the boy to come and see him."

Zhang Yong remained silent for a few seconds.

"What did you say?"

Zhang Defa raised his head, his face wrinkled and creased, looking like a wrung-out rag.

"What else could I say?" His voice was hoarse. "I couldn't exactly tell her on the phone—'Sister-in-law, my brother got arrested for making counterfeit oil,' could I? 'My brother's keeping a mistress in the suburbs of Baoding and built her a two-story house,' could I?"

"I'm afraid my sister-in-law will faint if she hears this."

Zhang Yong looked at his father.

"So you agreed to come with Zhang Chao?"

"I agree." Zhang Defa took out another cigarette from his pocket and lit it after striking the match three times.

"I said—Sister-in-law, don't worry, the eldest brother is staying here with me, so it's not convenient to make a phone call. I'll talk to him in person when Chaozi comes."

Zhang Yong nodded.

That was a fairly sound statement. It didn't reveal the truth, nor did it completely block the way out.

When will Zhang Chao arrive?

"Your aunt said the bus will be early the day after tomorrow, from Gaoyang to Beijing, a six-hour journey."

"Okay." Zhang Yong stood up. "I'll go with you to Liuliqiao to pick you up the day after tomorrow."

Zhang Defa shook his head. "No need, you've just started school and you're busy, I know what I'm doing."

"Zhang Chao is an honest, simple man who only knows how to farm and doesn't talk much. Sigh, if he knew his father had gotten into this mess—"

"Dad." Zhang Yong squatted down to be at eye level with Zhang Defa. "Zhang Chao will find out sooner or later. The question is who will tell him, where will they tell him, and how much will they tell him?"

"Instead of letting him search aimlessly, let's talk things out behind closed doors. We're still family."

Zhang Defa bit his cigarette and remained silent for a long time.

"And one more thing," Zhang Yong said in a low voice. "Before Zhang Chao arrives, if there are any more calls from Baoding, no matter who it is, just say that your uncle is staying here, he's not feeling well and is resting, and he'll go back when he's better."

"I know."

Zhang Defa stubbed out his cigarette, stood up, dusted himself off, and went upstairs in silence.

Zhang Yong watched his father's back as his legs moved slowly and heavily.

He spent over 8,000 yuan to support his mistress, build a house, produce counterfeit oil, and cheat his own brothers with IOUs.

Anyone would be heartbroken in this situation.

But Zhang Defa was a man from that era. He had his grandfather's dying wish and a large family of blood relatives who were still connected by blood.

Despite feeling disheartened, we still have to bear the burden.

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