Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Next Generation

If someone said Zhao Tao was no good, he would just laugh it off, but if anyone criticized Zhao Zejun, Zhao Tao wouldn’t tolerate it. With a cheerful smile, he’d say, “Zhao Zejun is grown up now. I used to keep an eye on him, but I can’t control him anymore. Last time, he quietly won an Outstanding Youth League Member award from the city, and that’s how I found out he’s been balancing school with earning money. He even used the money to do good deeds, and the TV station came to interview him, while I, his father, knew nothing at all.”

Zhou Tian, however, shook his head and said, “Not to lecture you as the eldest, but this is where you parents are at fault. Students should put all their energy into studying, aiming for a good university! No matter how tight money is at home, you shouldn’t let the child go out to earn it. Zhao Tao, your school might not pay much, but you could work a bit harder, take on some tutoring—how can you let your child’s studies suffer?”

“Exactly! Junjun is still so young, how much could he possibly earn? For just a few hundred yuan a month, it’s not worth sacrificing his studies and missing out on a good university,” the eldest aunt nodded repeatedly.

But the younger uncle, Zhou Ping, said, “Actually, it’s not a bad idea to nurture some business sense from a young age. Lots of kids work to support themselves in college, covering their own tuition and living expenses.”

The younger aunt asked with curiosity, “Brother-in-law, you said Junjun earned more than you? Just how much did he make?”

Zhao Tao smiled faintly and replied, “I don’t know the exact amount. The boy’s grown, and as parents, we shouldn’t meddle too much.”

Hearing this, the eldest aunt waved her hand dismissively, “He’s just a kid, let him treat it as a game. No matter how little you make, Zhao Tao, you surely don’t need to rely on the money Junjun brings in.”

Just then, Zhao Tao’s phone rang. He glanced at it and smiled at Zhou Ya, “It’s our son calling.”

“Answer it!” Zhou Ya’s face lit up with joy.

Zhao Tao took the call, speaking to Zhao Zejun on the other end.

Meanwhile, the eldest aunt glanced at her own pager, then at Zhao Tao’s mobile, and asked Zhou Ya with a hint of envy, “Oh, seems like Junjun really has made some money—he’s got a mobile phone now?”

“Our son says it’s the information age now; everyone should have a mobile for convenience. I don’t really get it, but he bought one for both his father and me,” Zhou Ya said offhandedly, taking out her phone and setting it on the table.

“Nokia,” the eldest uncle craned his neck for a look and muttered.

“Our section chief uses a Motorola, cost over five thousand. Way more advanced than this—32-tone ringtones, flip cover and all,” the eldest aunt chimed in.

By now, Zhao Tao had finished the call with Zhao Zejun.

“Wife, I need to tell you something, but don’t get too worked up,” Zhao Tao said, his face grave.

Zhou Ya asked nervously, “What is it, did our son not do well on his exams?”

Zhao Tao didn’t answer.

“Oh, I knew it, University of Science and Technology is hard to get into—even Nana didn’t dare apply. Did Junjun agree to be reassigned? What was his score? Worst comes to worst, he can repeat a year, but never settle for a technical college—nobody recognizes those diplomas anymore...” The eldest aunt kept on chattering.

The younger uncle and aunt both looked at Zhao Tao. Zhou Ya tugged at him anxiously, “Just say it already. If he didn’t get in, it’s no big deal, we’re family, nothing to be ashamed of.”

“That’s why I say, students should focus on their studies—what’s the point of making a bit of money?” said Zhou Tian.

“Brother-in-law, don’t be upset. Junjun is still young, he can always repeat a year,” the younger uncle consoled.

Zhao Tao waved his hand, “It’s not about the college entrance exams.”

“Then what is it?”

“Your son scored fifty or sixty points above the key university cutoff, nearly twenty points over the Science and Technology University’s admission line. He’s definitely going to college!”

At those words, Zhou Ya finally exhaled and playfully punched Zhao Tao, scolding, “You nearly scared me to death!”

“He scored that high?!” The eldest aunt’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“With that score, he could get into Fudan University, right?” the younger uncle, Zhou Ping, asked.

“Zhao Zejun doesn’t want to leave Southern Jiangsu Province,” Zhao Tao replied calmly, then turned to Zhou Ya, “I wasn’t trying to scare you—these days, college entrance has become trivial. What really shocked me is something else my son just told me!”

One bombshell after another—Zhao Tao had everyone hanging on his words. College entrance a small matter? Getting into the University of Science and Technology a small matter?

Then what could be so significant?

“Brace yourself!” Zhao Tao even steadied Zhou Ya, who slapped his hand and glared, “Stop keeping us in suspense.”

Every eye at the table fixed on Zhao Tao. He sighed.

“Just say it!”

Zhao Tao said, “I’ve worked half my life and still can’t match what my son did in a year. Let me tell you, our son handled the relocation matter—our family just received twelve apartments, each ninety square meters…”

“What?! Twelve apartments?”

“Brother-in-law, you’ve got to be joking!”

“That can’t be possible!”

It was as if a bomb had exploded at the table. There weren’t many people, but the noise nearly blew the roof off. Zhou Tian, who had just been lecturing Zhao Tao, now looked utterly stunned, mouth agape, not even noticing his chopsticks had fallen onto the table.

Twelve apartments! Even at its peak, how many properties did the Zhou family own? Probably not twelve in total. Now, these four families were squeezed into a small building, with a combined living area of less than two hundred square meters.

Now, the Zhao family suddenly had twelve ninety-square-meter apartments!

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” Zhou Ya asked in a daze.

“I told you to brace yourself! And I’m not done yet!” Zhao Tao paused, his gaze sweeping the faces of Zhou Tian and his wife before continuing, “In addition, there’s nearly half a million yuan in compensation.”

This time, no one exclaimed—they hadn’t even processed it yet. What did half a million mean? The average monthly wage in Shanghai was just over two thousand, and the best-off among them, Zhou Tian, worked at the pen factory making twenty-five hundred a month.

Half a million—that would take him nearly twenty years to earn!

“What on earth happened? How did Junjun manage to make so much money? Brother-in-law, tell us the whole story!” the younger aunt urged.

Now everyone at the table was listening to Zhao Tao. He recounted the story of how Zhao Zejun made money online, helped with disaster relief, and bought the resettlement apartments, with Zhou Ya occasionally adding details. No one else could get a word in.

“He even started some sort of company, not big, just over twenty people,” Zhao Tao added lightly.

The younger uncle, Zhou Ping, was in his thirties, the youngest at the table. After hearing the story, he sighed, “Junjun really is a genius. Honestly, I’m tempted—when my son grows up, I want him to learn business from Junjun.”

The eldest aunt stared for a moment, then suddenly left the table, went into the room, and dragged out her daughter, Zhou Na.

“Nana, your cousin got into the University of Science and Technology, so you’ll be in the same city for college. Give him a call and congratulate him!”

Then, smiling, she turned to Zhao Tao, “Junjun has a mobile, right?”

Zhao Tao nodded, dialed Zhao Zejun’s number, and handed the phone to Zhou Na.

The adults might compete, but the next generation seemed genuinely close. Though they hadn’t seen each other in years, Zhou Na soon found common ground with Zhao Zejun, chatting happily about high school, the entrance exams, and college. Outgoing by nature, Zhou Na and Zhao Zejun were soon laughing together.

Zhao Tao shook his head and smiled wryly to himself.

He was getting on in years—why bother competing with Zhou Tian and his wife? After all, they meant no real harm, just a bit too proud. They were family; what was the point?

As long as his son was doing well, nothing else mattered. From now on, it would be up to the next generation.