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

Zhang Yong collected the bowls and chopsticks and took them to the kitchen to soak in water.

When they returned, Li Guilan spoke.

"Actually, I didn't tell you two, but the day before yesterday... the reception desk received a phone call."

Zhang Defa remained standing blankly by the table, not daring to move.

"Your uncle Zhang Dewang said he's coming to Beijing by long-distance bus next Monday. He wants us to pick him up at the Liuliqiao long-distance bus station."

Zhang Yong's brow twitched slightly.

"What is he here for?"

Li Guilan raised her head and glared at Zhang Defa, her eyes reddening again.

"Whenever he comes, it's always the same. He says he has an emergency. Every time it's an emergency. But the reason is different each time. Every time he has to pay."

She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, her voice growing faster and faster, as if she had finally found a way to say what she had been holding back for years.

"Each time it lasts four or five days. Your dad takes him out to eat every day, and when he leaves, he has to give him a hundred yuan for travel expenses."

She slammed her fist on the table in anger.

"Am I just an outsider? Can't a daughter-in-law interfere in the Zhang family's affairs?"

"Every time he comes back, I'm the one who has to make all the arrangements, including finding him a guesthouse to stay in—"

Li Guilan suddenly stood up, the chair leg scraping against the cement floor with a loud thud.

"I'm not going to interfere this time. Zhang Defa, you can take it yourself."

Zhang Defa didn't dare to say a word the whole time, he just kept his head down.

Zhang Yong looked at his father's profile and his mother's red and swollen eyes.

"Mom, don't worry about this."

"We've talked things out today, but starting tomorrow, I'll be in charge of the household accounts. I'll also arrange how to deal with my uncle when he comes."

"You can talk about the rest yourselves."

Li Guilan didn't say anything more. She took off her apron, draped it over the back of the chair, and turned to go into the inner room.

Zhang Defa stood there for a long time.

"Yongzi."

"Um."

"Your uncle... he's not a bad person."

Zhang Defa said in a low voice, "It's just that we're living too frugally."

Then he went back into the house.

The spring mattress creaked.

Zhang Yong turned off the living room lights and returned to his six-square-meter bedroom.

He pulled the hardcover notebook out of the drawer, then unfolded the stack of remittance stubs on the table one by one, and drew a table on the notebook with a pencil.

Date, amount, payee, remarks.

Copy it stroke by stroke.

In March 1983, at the age of fifty, Zhang Dewang, the old house tiles were broken.

In June 1984, Zhang Dewang, a farmer, was short of fertilizer.

In November 1986, Zhang Cuifen, an elderly woman, broke her leg.

......

I spent ages copying down a bunch of IOUs; they were all addressed to Baoding.

Zhang Yong put down his pencil and glanced at the total.

Total amount: 8,420 yuan.

More than 70% of them are the same person.

Zhang Dewang.

……

The next morning, just after six o'clock.

Zhang Yong washed his face and went out. He first went to the reception room and dialed Tan Xingguo's home number.

I answered the phone after it rang a few times.

"Feed?"

"Editor-in-Chief Tan, this is Zhang Yong. Thank you for yesterday."

Tan Xingguo's yawning voice came from the other end of the phone.

"Oh, don't thank me. It just so happens that Director Tao was having a meeting in Chaoyang that day. I just made a phone call. Whether he comes or not is up to him."

Tan Xingguo paused for a moment.

"But Zhang Yong, you're really lucky. On another day, I couldn't get a single section chief to come even after making ten calls. I don't have that kind of influence. What do you call this—a stroke of good fortune?"

Zhang Yong chuckled.

"There's another thing you should keep in mind," Tan Xingguo said in a relaxed tone. "I've sent you the publishing contract by registered mail; it should arrive in the next couple of days. Take a look when you receive it, and contact me if you have any problems."

"Okay, thanks."

After hanging up the phone, Zhang Yong rode his Jialing 125 motorcycle, twisted the throttle, and sped off from Jinsong.

……

Chaoyang District Police Station.

Police officer Xiao Li was sitting behind his desk, munching on a fried dough stick, with a copy of the Beijing Evening News spread out in front of him. Hearing the sound of a motorcycle, he looked up and saw Zhang Yong push open the door and come in.

"Hey, Zhang Yong. You're here to ask about yesterday?"

"Yes."

Zhang Yong sat down on the wooden chair opposite him.

"What was the name of that guy in the jacket last night?"

Xiao Li and his wife stuffed the fried dough sticks into their mouths, wiped their hands, and flipped through the register on the table.

"Liu Gui. From Fengtai. Doesn't have a formal job, works odd jobs and runs errands at an auto parts store on Fengtai Road."

Which auto parts store?

"The boss's surname is Xu, and his name is Xu Dacheng. It's not a large business, and the address is here." Xiao Li pointed to the record and showed it to Zhang Yong. "Liu Gui confessed that Xu Dacheng told him to take the IOU to your house to collect the money. The person on the IOU is a man named Ma Degui from Gaoyang County, Baoding."

Zhang Yong started to make plans in his mind.

Baoding. Gaoyang. Ma Degui.

It's the supplier of that fake oil.

"Did he confess anything else?"

Xiao Li shook his head, still chewing the fried dough stick in his mouth.

"Yes, they said two brothers came with them, but we don't know where they are. Also, the two motorcycles they were riding were borrowed from Xu Dacheng's auto parts store."

Xiao Li closed the notebook and pushed it aside.

"He has been detained for three days as a public security offense."

Zhang Yong nodded and was about to get up when Xiao Li suddenly remembered something.

"Oh, right, there's something."

He rummaged through the cabinet behind him and pulled out a brown paper bag, from which he poured out a few things—a tattered wallet, a few crumpled small bills, and a note.

"This was found in his pants pocket. It's not exactly solid evidence, but your family is also a victim. I'll show it to you first, so you'll have a better idea of ​​what's going on."

Xiao Li unfolded the note and placed it on the table.

Zhang Yong lowered his head.

On the front of the note, three words were written in ballpoint pen.

Zhang Dewang.

Below is a phone number. Area code 0312, Baoding landline.

Zhang Yong gasped and quickly flipped the note over.

The ink on the back is a mess, making the contents illegible. However, near the corner, three characters remain unpainted.

Ma Degui.

The name of my uncle Zhang Dewang appeared on the same piece of paper as that of the fake oil dealer Ma Degui.

Front and back.

"Xiao Li, can I copy this?"

"Fine, you can copy it. I need to keep the original for my records."

Zhang Yong took out his notebook and copied down the numbers one by one without missing a single one. He closed the notebook and stood up.

"Thanks. Just let me know if you need any assistance."

"Okay. Be careful on the road."

……

As I stepped out of the police station, the sun had already climbed above the top of the locust tree.

Zhang Yong didn't rush home. He turned into a roadside breakfast stall, spent three cents on a bowl of tofu pudding, and sat on a plastic stool to eat it slowly.

The braised meat is seasoned with sesame paste, so it's salty, and has two sprigs of cilantro floating in it.

[Auto Repair Lv.5: Progress 15% (AFK... 30x speed)]

He glanced at the panel in the corner as usual and began to sort out the matters at hand.

Ma Degui, from Gaoyang, Baoding, was involved in producing counterfeit oil; the cost was two yuan, but the factory price was five yuan.

Boss Zhou distributed the oil to Wei Dabiao and his group in Tongxian County, twenty barrels at a price of twelve yuan each. Three Dongfeng trucks suffered cylinder damage due to the counterfeit oil.

Wei Dabiao investigated Boss Zhou—Boss Zhou had absconded with the money.

Then someone found out his home address, and Xu Dacheng from Fengtai sent Liu Gui to collect the debt.

Liu Gui was carrying a note.

The front features Zhang Dewang.

The back features Ma Degui.

Zhang Yong finished the last mouthful of tofu pudding and put down the bowl.

Two possibilities.

The first scenario: The uncle owed Ma Degui money. The IOU was genuine, but the creditor had changed hands, moving from a relative to the debt collector.

The second possibility is that there's another relationship between the eldest uncle and Ma Degui. Their hometown is Gaoyang, Baoding, and the eldest uncle also lives in the countryside of Baoding. The fact that their names are on the same note doesn't necessarily mean a debtor-creditor relationship—it could also be a business relationship.

Zhang Yong recalled what Zhang Defa had said.

"Your uncle... he's not a bad person. He's just too frugal."

They were so strapped for cash that they had to go to Beijing every year to borrow hundreds or thousands of yuan without fail.

If the uncle and Ma Degui have a business relationship, then how much of the more than 8,000 yuan that Zhang Defa sent to Baoding over the years was poured into the fake oil business?

Zhang Yong stood up, put the money on the corner of the table, and mounted his Jialing 125.

The area code is 0312, it's a landline in Baoding, right?

Let's make a call first to find out the situation.

......