Chapter 6 (6k words)

"Xiao Bin, this is about something very important to our Zhou family. If you really hate your dad, I'm entrusting this matter to you, and then I'll prepare to leave here and live in Southeast Asia." My dad said calmly.

Something important to our Zhou family? I was puzzled. My dad had never discussed family matters with me, not since I was a child. What could he possibly have to say to me?

Seeing that I was silent, my dad continued, "Whether you believe me or not, I'm not joking this time, son. If you're willing, this will be the last time we see each other."

"Understood," I said.

"Good. 7 PM. Come to our old place." With that, my dad hung up the phone.

My emotions were in turmoil. Since my mom passed away, my bastard dad had rarely spoken to me in such a calm tone. Although I still didn't quite trust him, I figured it wouldn't hurt to go and hear what he had to say.

I gave Yao Liang a call, telling him I had to go out and would be back later. Then I went downstairs, rented a bicycle, and quickly rode back to my old home. The old, worn-out sign at the alley entrance read "No. 15, Xiao Jia Lane, Daocheng Road." At the end of the narrow, deep alley stood a six-story old building. Our old apartment was on the fourth floor.

I parked my bike at the alley entrance and walked in. It was nearing summer, and a warm breeze blew by, gently rustling my hair. The wind carried a sense of ease, as if it had lightened my mood as well.

As I entered the old building and reached the third floor, I faintly heard the sound of arguing coming from upstairs. I quickened my pace and found the apartment door wide open. I hurried over.

The inside of the apartment was just as messy as it was when I left. My dad was standing off to one side, still wearing that tattered shirt, his face haggard. For some reason, seeing him like this, I actually felt a pang of sorrow.

At the round table in the middle of the room sat a fat man with a fat face. He had a shaved head and was wearing a black tight-fitting shirt. On his stout, obese shoulder was a tattoo of a black dragon. He looked every bit like a gangster.

Next to him stood a tall, skinny man with a sallow complexion and a sharp, pointed face that gave him a weasel like appearance. He looked like a bad guy at first glance.

The moment I entered, I felt the atmosphere was ominous. I heard the fat man at the table speaking arrogantly, "Zhou Wen! You're not a big boss anymore, so stop putting on that serious act with me! In this world, whoever has the most money calls the shots! Your motherfucker owes me so much money, and you're hiding a villa, refusing to hand it over, right!"

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