Chapter 1363
: Fear of being close to home
Chapter 1363: Fear of being close to home
Two days later, at the National Assembly Building in Iligo.
Samir sat in the gallery behind the parliamentary seats, wearing a brand-new military uniform, the rank of major general on his shoulder insignia gleaming slightly under the lights of the parliament hall.
His hands were clenched together, his knuckles turning white.
Inside the hall, members of parliament were entering one after another.
When Senator Hashimi entered, he nodded slightly in Samir's direction before heading to his seat.
Several members of the Koldeid party group huddled together, talking in hushed tones, glancing occasionally toward the podium.
At 10:00 a.m. sharp, the speaker struck the gavel.
"We will now begin deliberations on Ministry of National Defense Bill No. 147: a proposal to establish the 10th Border Defense Division and incorporate some civilian armed forces."
For the next three hours, Samir endured the longest wait of his life.
The Minister of Defense personally took the stage to explain, using slides to demonstrate the severity of the border security situation, showcasing a chart of terrorist infiltration routes, and highlighting the shortcomings of the existing border defense forces.
Then came the speeches by representatives from each party group.
Representatives of the mainstream faction of the Ten Leaves expressed their support, but emphasized that the new force must be "loyal to the constitution, loyal to the country, and should not become the private army of any party or individual."
The Sunni representative cautiously raised questions: Is the composition of the troops balanced? Will it exacerbate sectarian conflicts?
The representatives of the Koldeid faction were the most active and spoke for the longest time.
Their concern was not the unit itself, but rather the clause in the bill authorizing the Ministry of Defense to establish a joint patrol mechanism on the northern border.
For the Kordes, this means that the central government of Bakda has officially recognized their special role and rights in border security issues.
Diplomats from the United States, Britain, France, and other Western countries sat quietly in the foreign guest section on the second floor, observing the scene.
Samir noted that U.S. Ambassador Stevenson did not come in person, but only sent a second secretary.
The debate reached its climax at 1 p.m.
A senior Sunni member of parliament suddenly proposed a motion to add a clause to the bill, stating that "the appointment of senior officers of the 10th Border Guard Division shall be subject to a hearing process by the Parliamentary Security Committee."
Samir's heart sank.
If this additional clause is passed, it means that every time he is promoted or transferred in the future, he will have to be questioned by politicians in parliament.
He quietly took out his phone and sent a short message to Song Heping, who was waiting at the hotel: "Something has changed. Motion for additional clauses."
Less than a minute later, the reply came: "Let's wait and see. Hashimi and Yusuf will handle it."
Ten minutes later, Yusuf announced a temporary recess.
Hashimi left his seat and walked to a small meeting room on the side of the parliament hall.
A few minutes later, he came out with the leader of the Koldeid faction, both of them smiling.
Returning to the debate, Hashimi unexpectedly changed his stance:
"After consultation with colleagues from various party groups, we believe that the additional terms are acceptable, but need to be modified—limited to the appointment of deputy division commanders requiring a hearing, and no interference in the appointment of other officers."
Samir breathed a sigh of relief.
This is actually a compromise.
The selection of a deputy division commander is inherently a matter of balancing the interests of various factions, and the hearings have inadvertently provided a platform for all parties to openly negotiate.
Voting began at 3 p.m.
The electronic voting system was activated, and the buttons on each member's seat lit up.
Samir held his breath, staring at the huge display screen at the front of the hall.
Green represents approval, red represents disapproval, and yellow represents abstention.
The numbers started jumping.
Votes in favor: 187
Votes against: 63
Abstentions: 25
Final result – passed.
The gavel fell, and the Speaker announced: "Resolution No. 147 has been passed."
Applause broke out, but it was sparse; more often, it was the sound of members of different factions shaking hands and talking to each other.
There were no cheers, no celebrations.
This is the game of politics.
Every victory is the product of careful planning.
The sunlight was blinding as Samir walked out of the parliament building.
He took out his phone and dialed Song Heping's number.
"Boss, it's approved."
"Understood." Song Heping's voice was calm as usual, as if he had expected it: "Come to the hotel tonight, let's talk about the next step."
……
Song Heping became very busy.
For the next two weeks, he was caught in the eye of the political vortex in Bakta.
The first important meeting took place at the US ambassador's residence.
Ambassador Stevenson was a career diplomat in his sixties, with meticulously combed gray hair and a Virginia upper-class accent.
The dinner was for just the two of them; the dishes were exquisite but the portions were small.
Typical American upper-class social style, emphasizing form over substance.
“Mr. Song, first of all, congratulations.” Stevenson raised his glass: “Your success in Iligo proves that the private sector can play a unique role in postwar reconstruction.”
"Thank you, Mr. Ambassador. This would not have been possible without the support of all parties," Song Heping replied succinctly.
We get to the main course after the main course.
Stevenson put down his knife and fork, and gently wiped his mouth with a napkin: "We are very concerned about the newly established 10th Border Division. After all, border security is not only related to Ilig, but also to regional stability."
“I completely agree. Therefore, this unit will operate strictly in accordance with the instructions of the Ministry of Defense.”
“Of course, of course.” Stevenson smiled. “I just wanted to know what your company’s plans are in terms of equipment and training. The U.S. military has a wealth of experience in this area, and we would be happy to offer our assistance.”
Song Heping knew that this was both a test and a deal.
“Mr. Ambassador, I am a businessman. If the Department of Defense decides to purchase American equipment, and if the U.S. military is willing to provide training, as long as it is done through legal and compliant bidding and cooperation agreements, my company is certainly willing to participate in the competition.”
He paused, then added, "As for the specific affairs of the 10th Border Division, that falls under the purview of General Samir and the Ministry of Defense. I cannot interfere too much."
That's well said.
It neither rejected US involvement nor relinquished the decision-making power to the Iligo government; it demonstrated its openness to commercial participation while clearly delineating the boundaries of political interference.
Stevenson nodded, no longer pursuing the topic.
The two then switched their conversation to energy markets and infrastructure investment, as if their previous exchange had been merely a formality.
But Song Heping knew that the most important topic had already been agreed upon at the beginning, and everything else was just idle chatter.
Dealing with these politicians is always like this—90% nonsense and 10% useful topics.
Next was the "Friendship Night" at the Persian Embassy.
He did not go in person, but sent a senior executive of the company as his representative.
The reason given was "an urgent business meeting".
Senator Hashimi did attend the dinner in person.
During the meeting, I met several tribal elders from Anbar province, all of whom were influential figures in the Sunni region.
Song Heping listened more and spoke less, only promising that "the new troops will treat all ethnic groups and sects fairly" and implying that "cross-border trade will benefit after border security is improved."
These words struck a chord with the elders.
This is also the issue of interest that these local forces care about most.
Anbar province borders Silja and Yodan. Silja is currently at war, while Yodan is a vital passage to Bananen and Balestan.
Over there, smuggling and trade are the main sources of income for many tribes.
The luncheon at the Turkish embassy was the most interesting.
The ambassador made almost no attempt to conceal his concern about the growing strength of the Koldi forces, repeatedly emphasizing "the importance of Ilig's territorial integrity."
Song Heping's answer was artful: "Iligo's constitution stipulates the autonomous status of the Kolde region, and I respect and abide by all the laws of the country where I live."
At the business forum held at the Camel Embassy, the focus was on energy cooperation.
Song Heping's company already has several oilfield service contracts in southern Iligo, and the Camelmen clearly hope to expand cooperation while counterbalancing Persian influence.
The seminar held by the Russian representative office was the most pragmatic.
Let's not talk politics, let's only talk business.
These Russians also have oil field cooperation projects in Iligo.
Now that Song Heping is the King of the Northwest, even someone as powerful as the Russian Empire understands human relationships. Paying respects to the local strongholds and using benefits to win them over can't hurt.
Every day that followed was the same.
Breakfast meetings, lunch meetings, afternoon tea, and dinner parties.
There are endless people to meet, countless conversations to have, and an endless supply of tea and coffee to drink.
Jiang Feng has gone to Erbil and is sending back briefings every day.
The Military Commission reacted to his arrival in a complex way, outwardly warmly welcoming him but inwardly taking precautions at every turn.
But Jiang Feng strictly followed Song Heping's instructions: listen but don't speak, smile and nod, and be the "expensive symbol".
After all, that was an internal matter for the Kolds.
How they handle things is naturally up to old Masoud.
The "Musician" defense only plays a role in maintaining order through force.
Two weeks later, late one night, Song Heping stood alone in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of his hotel suite.
The night view of Bactria remained unchanged, with the Tigris River flowing quietly, separating light from darkness. He suddenly felt a deep weariness.
It's not physical fatigue, it's mental fatigue.
These days, he has to carefully consider every word he says, control every expression he makes, and weigh every decision he makes.
He met too many people and talked about too many things, but he had no one with whom he could truly confide.
Samir was respectful but fearful of him; Jiang Feng was a comrade-in-arms but also a subordinate; Hashimi was an ally but also a politician.
Those ambassadors, businessmen, and members of parliament.
It's all about self-interest.
He thought of his hometown.
That small county town in the Northwest region had bluestone-paved roads, old locust trees, cicadas chirping in summer, and fog in winter.
I thought of the food from my hometown and the sound of my younger siblings arguing.
He hasn't been back for almost ten years.
Just two years ago, he was a "dangerous person" on the U.S. list, and going back would only bring trouble to his family.
He could only secretly send money home, fabricating stories about doing building materials and gold mining business in Africa, and using "being too busy" as an explanation for not going home.
My father passed away from illness when I was still in the army.
It is said that the eldest son is the father.
But over the years, apart from material assistance, it seems I haven't really fulfilled my responsibilities as an older brother.
It was that unexpected turn of events that led him to ultimately give up his selection for the 203rd Special Forces, choose to retire from the military and return home to shoulder the responsibility of supporting his family.
He later became rich, but the money was somewhat tainted, so he didn't dare go back.
He was afraid of being stopped by customs, afraid of security agencies coming to his door, and afraid that his family would see his true face in the news after the media exposed him.
Now, having laundered his identity, he has transformed into the owner of a well-known defense company and obtained legal status.
The proposal regarding the 10th Border Division was passed, and his position in Iligo was basically secured.
By now, all parties have accepted his existence as a "legitimate businessman".
Maybe
It's time to go back and take a look.
Once this idea takes hold, it grows wildly like weeds.
He glanced at his watch; it was two in the morning.
But he couldn't wait any longer.
As he stepped out of the bedroom, the bodyguard in the outer room immediately stood up: "Boss?"
"Go and fetch Miroslav."
Miro is his personal bodyguard captain, a former Serbian special forces officer.
A few minutes later, Milo rushed over, not even fully dressed: "Boss, what's up?"
"Book me a flight back to Z country. The earliest flight is fine, connecting flight is okay too."
Milo paused for a moment: "Boss, you're going back to your country? What about security arrangements?"
"No bodyguards. Just me."
"This is too dangerous! At least let me bring two people with me."
“My country is very safe.” Song Heping interrupted him, “And I don’t want to make a fuss. This is a private trip, to go home and see my family.”
Milo wanted to say something, but seeing Song Heping's eyes, he immediately swallowed his words: "I'll take care of it right away."
"Also, don't tell anyone. Don't tell Jiang Feng either; I'll contact him after I get to China."
"clear."
After Milo left, Song Heping returned to his bedroom and pulled a waterproof card holder from his pocket.
There's a family photo hidden inside, taken many years ago.
The photo has yellowed and the edges are worn.
Over the years, he has carried it with him wherever he goes.
After looking at the photos for a while, he put them back and started packing his luggage.
The things you need to bring are very simple.
The few changes of clothes were all ordinary 511 tactical pants, outdoor shirts, and fleece jackets; the brands and prices were indiscernible.
A pair of sturdy Salomon hiking shoes.
An old backpack.
An anonymous backup cell phone, a satellite phone, three internationally recognized black cards, and a regular credit card.
The cash contains both US dollars and RMB, but it's divided into small portions and kept in different places.
No weapons.
I would absolutely not dare to bring it in China.
There were no luxury items.
He doesn't like that stuff, and he doesn't need to use it to prove himself.
At daybreak, Milo brought the flight information.
"At 3 PM this afternoon, I'll fly Iraqi Airlines to Dubai, then transfer to China Southern Airlines to Guangzhou, and finally take a domestic flight to the airport in your hometown. The whole journey will take 26 hours."
"can."
"Boss, you really don't need me?"
“No need.” Song Heping patted his arm. “While I’m away, Jiang Feng will temporarily manage the company’s affairs in Iligo. You need to pay special attention to Samir’s situation and contact me immediately if anything unusual happens.”
"Yes."
2 PM, Baghdad International Airport.
Song Heping was dressed in ordinary khaki tactical pants, a dark gray outdoor T-shirt, and a plaid shirt over them. He carried his old backpack that he had used for many years and was inconspicuous in the crowd of passengers.
This outfit was intentional, meeting the comfort requirements of long-distance travel while remaining inconspicuous.
The exit procedures went more smoothly than expected.
Ilgosi customs officials were simply conducting a routine check of passports, visas, and departure stamps.
His Iligo Special Business Passport is genuine, with valid multiple-entry visas and complete departure procedures.
The official didn't even ask a single question. He scanned the passport, confirmed there were no exit restrictions, and stamped it without hesitation.
"next."
The whole process took less than a minute.
Song Heping took the passport, nodded calmly, and turned to walk towards the waiting area.
It wasn't until he had walked more than ten meters away that his heartbeat truly calmed down.
He had never truly worried about Baghdad.
Here, he is the respected "Mr. Song," a partner of the Ministry of National Defense, and a friend of many members of parliament.
His company is legally registered, has a clear tax record, and has complete documentation with government departments.
His true inner conflict lies thousands of miles away.
He walked through the bustling waiting hall and sat down in a relatively quiet corner, his gaze sweeping over the various passengers.
Business travelers, returning migrant workers, employees of international organizations... His fingers unconsciously caressed the hard cover of his motherland's passport.
This small booklet is a symbol of his legal status and the only key to his hometown.
The key went into the lock, but he didn't know what awaited him behind the door.
The "official arrest warrant" issued by the Americans has long been withdrawn; that was a tacit reconciliation.
But what about the intelligence agencies' internal watch lists?
Those notes, correlation analyses, risk assessments, etc., buried deep in the database...
These things won't disappear easily.
What made him even more uneasy was the security department of his own country.
His activities abroad over the years, especially in the complex region of the Middle East, could not have completely escaped the notice of the relevant authorities.
The background of PMCs (Private Military Contractors), their intricate connections with various armed groups, and their business operations operating in the gray area...
These are enough to interest the security agencies of any country.
As the old saying goes, the closer one gets to home, the more timid one becomes.
At this moment, he felt a deeper sense of fear—anxiety about the unknown scrutiny and the possibility that his past secrets might be exposed.
He boarded the Iligo Airlines flight and chose a window seat in economy class.
The plane taxied slowly and took off. Outside the window, the outline of Baghdad gradually shrank and finally merged into the yellow sand land where he had struggled for many years.
The Tigris River below reflects the faint glow of the setting sun, like a winding scar, or perhaps a lifeline.
He closed his eyes, forcing himself to rest, but his thoughts raced back to ten years ago like a wild horse.
When he left home to join the army that year, his father saw him off at the train station, repeatedly telling him, "Take good care of yourself in the army, I'll take care of things at home!"
But in the end, my father couldn't hold on...
He later retired and came to Yili with Lao Yao to make his way in the world.
Things were fine when I first arrived, but a roadside IED attack changed everything.
Later he became a mercenary, then sold arms, and then...
There's nothing I wouldn't dare to do.
The money is increasing.
How many are there now?
Song Heping himself was too lazy to even look at the numbers in the various accounts.
Once you have a lot of money, it really is just a string of numbers.
This isn't being pretentious; it's the truth.
The money hidden in secret offshore bank accounts around the world is enough for him to live on for hundreds of lifetimes.
He took so much money, but he didn't dare to say anything.
I remember the first time I robbed that batch of Shadak's gold with "the cook" Yevgeny, we sold it to Afanti and exchanged it for US dollars. We got tens of millions of dollars, and I couldn't help but transfer two million to each of my younger siblings.
It was supposed to be a happy occasion, but when my younger brother called afterward, his voice was trembling: "Brother, what kind of business do you do to make so much money? You can't possibly be..."
What sells well in Africa?
It's either weapons, gold, or drugs.
"As the building materials business grew, we started taking on government projects."
He lied without batting an eye.
After that, he became much more frugal with sending money home.
I dare not give more.
I was afraid my younger siblings would become suspicious, and I was afraid they would worry.
It's a strange feeling to have money but not be able to spend it.
Over the years, I've spent money renovating our ancestral home and buying apartments for my younger siblings in the city.
But he himself only went back once.
why?
afraid.
They are afraid of customs, police, and security agencies.
He was afraid his family would find out the truth.
I'm also afraid.
That version of myself no longer deserves to go home.
"Sir, would you like a drink?"
The flight attendant's voice brought him back to reality.
"Water, thank you."
Four hours later, I transferred at Dubai Airport.
A modern terminal building, dazzling lights, and a dazzling array of luxury stores.
He sat in the waiting area, watching the crowds come and go.
There are many Chinese people, including tour groups, business travelers, and international students.
Hearing familiar dialects from various regions, he felt a little disoriented, as if he were back in China.
When he went to the restroom, he looked at himself in the mirror.
Born in the 1980s.
I'm in my mid-thirties.
His skin was rough, he had fine lines around his eyes, and a few gray hairs at his temples.
Look
The only thing that remained unchanged was his bright and sharp eyes, just like when he was in the army.
He recalled himself when he first joined the army, a bright-eyed young man standing in front of the military mirror.
More than a decade has passed, it feels like a lifetime ago.
I boarded a China Southern Airlines Airbus A380 bound for Guangzhou.
This time he chose a seat by the window.
The plane was mostly filled with Chinese people, and there was a lot of noise, children crying, and the flight attendant's gentle announcements in Chinese.
"Ladies and gentlemen, our plane is about to take off. Please fasten your seatbelts."
Upon hearing this Chinese sentence, his nose suddenly felt a lump in his throat.
I quickly turned my head to look out the window.
Dubai's night view recedes as planes soar into the night sky.
This time he fell asleep, and slept very soundly.
In his dream, he returned to the riverbank in his hometown and fished with his younger brother.
The sun was shining brightly, the river water was clear, and you could see small fish swimming around. My mother was washing clothes on the bank, humming a song.
When I woke up, my eyes were wet.
After an eight-hour flight, the first rays of dawn began to appear outside the window.
The flight attendants began distributing breakfast.
There was a Chinese-style meat roll in a flatbread.
So he ate very slowly, savoring each bite carefully.
It's not that the taste is particularly good, but rather the taste itself...
It's been so long since I've tasted it.
At 10:00 AM, the plane landed at Baiyun Airport.
Follow the flow of people off the plane and into the terminal.
Chinese signs, Chinese announcements, and the customs emblem.
He became nervous again while waiting in line.
This is the real test.
The people ahead of him passed through smoothly.
When it was his turn, he handed over his passport.
The customs officer was a middle-aged woman with a serious expression.
I took the passport, opened it, and looked at the visa page and the personal information page.
Then, she did something—she placed her passport under a special scanner.
Song Heping's heart skipped a beat.
That's an online verification system.
His information will be sent to a database and compared with various lists.
Time passed by second by second.
The official stared at the screen, his brow slightly furrowed.
Song Heping's palms began to sweat.
He imagined what would happen next—being led to a side room, security personnel appearing, questioning him about his activities in Iligo, his company, his businesses in Mexico, and his shady dealings in Africa.
"You've been in Iligo for a long time?" the official suddenly asked.
"Yes, we do engineering projects."
"This trip back to China is..."
"Visiting relatives. I haven't been home for many years."
The official glanced at the screen again, then picked up the seal.
"Snapped."
The sound of a stamp being put on a stamp.
"That's all. Welcome back home."
Song Heping took the passport, almost unable to believe how simple it was.
He nodded and said as calmly as possible, "Thank you."
After passing through the customs channel and entering the baggage claim area, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Passed the second level.
Collect your luggage, go through the final security check, and walk out of the arrival hall.
motherland.
This time, they're really back.
Standing in the bustling arrival hall, he felt a moment of bewilderment.
The surrounding area was filled with the sounds of Chinese chatter, crowds of people waiting to pick up passengers were holding up signs, taxi drivers were soliciting business, and airport announcements were broadcasting flight information.
Everything felt so familiar, yet so strange.
"elder brother!"
He turned his head and saw his younger brother, Song Hexie, waving in the crowd.
My younger brother has gained some weight. He's wearing a polo shirt and casual pants, and glasses; he looks like an ordinary urban white-collar worker.
Standing next to him was his younger sister, Song Lingling, who looked much more mature than he remembered, wearing light makeup and a dress.
Standing next to Lingling was a young man who looked somewhat reserved, dressed in a neat shirt and trousers, and had an honest appearance.
Song Heping walked over.
The younger brother looked at him, his eyes a little red: "Brother, you're finally back."
His younger sister rushed up and hugged him tightly: "Brother! I missed you so much!"
Song Heping hugged his sister, patted his brother's shoulder, and then his gaze naturally turned to the young man.
The young man visibly tensed up, instinctively straightening his back and forcing a slightly stiff smile: "Brother, hello, I'm Zhang Wei, Lingling's husband."
Song Heping didn't say anything, but just looked him up and down a few times.
The gaze wasn't fierce, nor was it even expressionless, but the oppressive feeling that had been ingrained in his bones from walking on the edge of life and death for a long time and ruling a vast gray kingdom was revealed unintentionally.
That wasn't official arrogance, but a more primal and direct aura, as if it could penetrate appearances and see into people's hearts.
Zhang Wei works as the deputy director of the social affairs office of the subdistrict office. He has met with some leaders in the city and reported his work to them in person.
But at this moment he felt more pressure than when he was reporting to any leader. His palms and forehead were slightly sweaty, and even his smile was almost frozen.
"Ah."
Song Heping finally nodded, as if to say hello, and then said to his younger siblings, "Let's go out first."
My younger brother drives a Range Rover.
After graduating from university, he opened his own firm in the city with the capital provided by Song Heping and his own professional skills, and he is doing quite well now.
After getting in the car, the younger sister sat in the passenger seat, while Zhang Wei and Song Heping sat in the back seat.
The atmosphere inside the car became quiet for a moment.
"Brother, why does your bag look so old?"
His younger sister turned to look at him, trying to break the silence, "Didn't you say your business was huge? Why are you dressed so simply?"
Song Heping looked down at his clothes and smiled, "I'm used to it abroad, as long as I'm comfortable."
"That's true." The younger brother started the car. "Brother, are you going straight back to the county town, or do you want to rest in the city first?"
"Let's go back to the city first. I've booked a hotel."
"Why stay in a hotel!" his sister interrupted. "The big apartment you bought for us, we've been saving a room for you. It's cleaned every week."
Song Heping was stunned for a moment.
He did buy each of his younger siblings a large apartment in the best neighborhood in the city, each over 300 square meters, saying it was for their weddings, but actually he also wanted to have a place to stay if he ever came back.
But he didn't expect that they would actually leave him a room.
"Okay, then I'll stay at your place."
The car drove out of the airport and onto the highway. The scenery outside the window rushed past: tall buildings, construction sites, green belts, and billboards.
He was astonished by the speed of development in China.
When I left last time, there weren't so many tall buildings here, and the roads weren't this wide.
"Brother, how long can you stay this time?" the younger brother asked.
"About two weeks. I still have things to do over there."
"You're always so busy," my sister complained. "You can never earn enough money. Stay longer this time."
"I know." Song Heping looked out the window. "This time, I'll stay a few more days."
"By the way, bro, what kind of business do you run?"
His younger brother glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Last time you said you were doing infrastructure work in Ili, but what exactly? Oil? Or something else?"
“We’ll do a little bit of everything. Infrastructure, logistics, but the main focus is on security services.” Song Heping’s answer was vague: “Irithyll is rebuilding after the war, so there are many opportunities.”
"Security services? Like, the kind offered by a security company?"
"almost."
The younger brother didn't ask any more questions.
Song Heping knew that his younger siblings actually had doubts.
What kind of business can make so much money that you can easily spend tens of millions to buy a house for your family?
But they chose not to ask, choosing to believe their brother's claim of "legitimate business."
As for Song Heping's brother-in-law, Zhang Wei, he remained silent throughout, occasionally glancing at him through the rearview mirror before immediately looking away, appearing somewhat respectful.
This made him feel somewhat satisfied with his brother-in-law's "sensible" behavior.
As the car entered the city, it was surrounded by towering buildings and bustling traffic.
The younger sister pointed out the window: "Brother, look, over there, that tallest building, is our city's new landmark. When you left last time, it wasn't built yet."
"What a big change."
Song Heping sighed softly.
“Yes, our country is developing rapidly.” The younger brother’s tone was filled with pride: “Brother, you’ve been abroad for so many years, you don’t know, but things are very different in China now. Mobile payment, high-speed rail, online shopping. You’ll have to adapt.”
Song Heping smiled.
I don't use mobile payment...
I use an offshore bank myself...
Moreover, I haven't really had a concept of money over the years...
Second update. 10,000 words completed! Please vote for me! Thank you! I'll see if I can manage 30 days of 10,000-word updates this month.
More exciting things are to come; these chapters are pivotal and serve as a bridge between what came before and what is to come.
A warning is issued: thunder will occur.
(End of this chapter)