Chapter Sixty-Seven: Homecoming

Today was full of twists and turns, but Zhang Wei’s luck held out. Coupled with his quick thinking, he not only managed to smooth things over between Murong Xuan and Guo Bin, but also secured another contract. It hadn’t been a wasted day after all.

For an agent, closing any deal—regardless of its size—is a boost of morale. Zhang Wei was in high spirits, so he bought three cold dishes and two bottles of beer, then went home to watch TV and drink alone.

After two glasses of beer, Zhang Wei lounged on the soft sofa, gnawing on a pig’s trotter, his feet propped on the coffee table. As he looked around at the spacious living room and the 29-inch LCD TV, he felt as if he were living in another world.

Just last month, he’d been struggling at the edge of subsistence, living in a dark, damp basement, eating meager, carefully budgeted meals. His income was lower than that of migrant workers on construction sites, and his life had seemed hopeless and gray.

Yet in less than a month, everything had changed dramatically. He suddenly had more than 1.7 million yuan in income—not enough for true luxury, but certainly enough to live comfortably and without worry for several years.

Taking a big swig of beer, Zhang Wei watched the scenes of family reunions on TV. Suddenly, a wave of homesickness swept over him. He thought of his parents and younger brother and longed for them to see his success, to share his happiness together.

The sharp ring of the phone startled Zhang Wei from his reverie. He picked up his phone from the sofa and, seeing the caller ID, was surprised—it was a call from home.

He turned down the TV volume with the remote, pressed the answer button, and spoke.

“Brother, it’s me.” A young man’s voice came through the phone.

“What made you think to call me?” Zhang Wei asked, a bit puzzled.

Usually, Zhang Wei was too busy with work to know exactly when he’d be home in the evenings, so it was generally him calling home during his downtime. His brother Zhang Song rarely reached out to him first.

“Have you eaten, bro?” Zhang Song asked.

“I’m eating now. You must have something to say, right?” Zhang Wei cut straight to the point.

“Well… there’s something going on at home. Mom and Dad didn’t want me to tell you,” Zhang Song stammered.

“Are Mom and Dad unwell?” Zhang Wei’s expression changed at his brother’s words, anxiety creeping into his voice.

“No, they’re both fine,” Zhang Song reassured him.

“That’s good. So what is it? Don’t beat around the bush, just tell me,” Zhang Wei urged, relieved to hear his parents were healthy.

“It’s like this: there was a problem when the family bought a house. Mom and Dad didn’t want you to worry, so they told me not to say anything. But I feel like I should let you know—after all, it’s related to your line of work, and you might have some advice for them,” Zhang Song explained.

“A house? That’s a big deal—why didn’t anyone tell me?” Zhang Wei asked in surprise.

“Mom and Dad said you’d just started working, living in Beijing is expensive, and they knew you didn’t have much money. They planned to buy the house first and then tell you, but something went wrong in the process,” Zhang Song replied.

“Why did Mom and Dad suddenly want to buy a house? Where did they get that much money?” Zhang Wei pressed.

“It’s a bit complicated, and I’m afraid you’ll be upset when you hear it,” Zhang Song admitted awkwardly.

“Don’t drag it out, just say it.” Zhang Wei was growing impatient.

His brother was fine in most respects, but he was a bit unreliable—what the Northeasterners call “a bit slow”—so Zhang Wei had spent his childhood scolding him, and it had become second nature to reprimand him.

“I accidentally let slip in front of Mom and Dad that your girlfriend broke up with you. They were worried you’d be heartbroken over her, so they decided to introduce you to someone else…” Zhang Song hadn’t even finished before Zhang Wei interrupted him.

“Stop. Who told you I was dumped? We broke up amicably, okay?” Zhang Wei frowned, rebuking him.

“Oh, come on,” Zhang Song replied over the phone, sounding smug. “No need to pretend with me—I know what really happened.”

“You know nothing!” Zhang Wei snapped, his temper flaring at his brother’s mysterious tone.

“Fine, I’ll stop, okay?” Zhang Song quickly backed down, a little guilty since he was the one who had told their parents about the breakup.

“Back to the point—what does matchmaking have to do with buying a house?” Zhang Wei demanded irritably.

“Bro, it has everything to do with it! Don’t think you know more just because you sell houses—I actually understand this better than you,” Zhang Song boasted.

“Cut the nonsense and get to the point,” Zhang Wei said, anxious to know what was going on at home.

“They wanted to set you up, right? You’re good-looking and a college graduate. At first, Mom and Dad were proud, thinking girls would be lining up to meet you. But who would have thought…it wasn’t like that at all,” Zhang Song explained.

“What are you getting at? You mean none of the girls wanted to meet me?” Zhang Wei asked.

“It’s not that they didn’t like you,” Zhang Song replied, his tone dramatic. “They just wouldn’t even agree to meet you.”

“Am I really that bad?” Zhang Wei touched his face, displeased.

“It’s not you they mind—it’s that you don’t have a house!” Zhang Song clarified.

“What does having a house have to do with dating or matchmaking?” Zhang Wei was baffled.

“Bro, you’ve been in Beijing for years, you don’t know how things are in Baocheng now. These days, girls all want a house before marriage. If you don’t have a house, they won’t even consider dating you,” Zhang Song said with a sigh.

There were only two brothers in the Zhang family, and even if they bought a house, it would be for Zhang Wei to get married first, since Zhang Song, as the younger brother, would have to wait his turn. So this sort of thing bothered Zhang Song even more.

“So you’re saying the girls wouldn’t go on blind dates with me because I didn’t have a house, and Mom and Dad went ahead and bought one for me?” Zhang Wei surmised.

“Yeah, at first Mom and Dad didn’t realize what was going on. After being rejected several times, they finally figured out the real reason. That’s when they decided to buy you a house,” Zhang Song explained.

“Our family isn’t well-off. How did Mom and Dad get the money for a house?” Zhang Wei was stunned, feeling a pang of guilt.

“They borrowed most of it. The plan was to use the new house as collateral for a loan after it was built. But now, construction is delayed and there’s no telling when it’ll be finished, so there’s no way to get a loan,” Zhang Song sighed.

“How much was the total cost, and how much did they borrow?” Zhang Wei rubbed his face, embarrassed that he, the eldest son, hadn’t known about any of this.

“They won’t tell me the exact details, but I think the house cost about three hundred thousand. They probably borrowed over a hundred thousand,” Zhang Song estimated.

Their father was a retired worker, their mother a teacher. Supporting two sons through school and daily life had already depleted most of their savings. Borrowing over a hundred thousand was no small burden for them.

A month ago, Zhang Wei could only have worried helplessly if he’d heard about this—he could barely make ends meet himself, often relying on credit cards, and such a sum was utterly out of reach.

That was why their parents hadn’t told him. They knew he couldn’t help financially, and he was so filial he wouldn’t have let them borrow money for a house if he’d known. So they’d planned to buy it first and tell him later.

But that was then. Now, everything was different. Zhang Wei’s personal assets had climbed to over 1.7 million yuan; over a hundred thousand was nothing to him now.

“Are Mom and Dad home? Let me talk to Dad—I have something to tell him,” Zhang Wei said, having composed himself.

“They went out to borrow more money. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had the chance to call you,” Zhang Song replied, sounding dejected.

Exhaling heavily, Zhang Wei felt his eyes sting. His voice choked slightly as he said, “Alright, let’s leave it at that for now. I’ll come home tomorrow morning. I’ve made quite a bit of money these last two months—tell Mom and Dad not to worry about money anymore.”

“Bro, don’t say I told you any of this when you get here. Just say you missed home and came back, okay? If Dad finds out, he’ll never let me off—he already smacked me with a shoe the other day, and my butt still hurts,” Zhang Song pleaded.

“I know, don’t worry.” After hanging up, Zhang Wei patted his forehead, feeling stifled and upset. He grabbed the beer bottle on the table and took a long, hard drink straight from the mouth.