When he put the suit on, he couldn’t help but think: whoever owned this must be huge—broad shoulders, tall—because the suit was enormous. On him, it looked like a kid wearing adult clothes.
He squeezed through the crowd, holding the trading slip in his hand. After a while, the clerk behind the counter finally took it.
By the time Jiang Luo emerged from the crowd, his shoes had been stepped on countless times, and the suit was covered in wrinkles.
He smiled quietly to himself, feeling satisfied—Dian Vacuum had already risen to 66.9.
From yesterday afternoon to now, he had made a pure profit of 600.
Meanwhile, at the workers’ dormitory of the Second Silk Factory, Zhang Xiangping noticed Jiang Luo still hadn’t returned. She asked Jiang Jianmin, “Didn’t he go to the disco again last night? It’s already nine o’clock, and he’s not back?”
Jiang Jianmin, just about to head to work, cigarette in hand, frowned and muttered, “Forget it. You know you can’t control him. It’s not your kid, not my kid—why bother worrying?”
He added, “When you get to the factory, call his dorm from the office. Tell Ming Shi to come home for dinner if he has time.”
“Let’s eat out,” Zhang Xiangping suggested. The house was small, and she thought it more presentable to eat at a restaurant, not at home, to avoid Zhao Mingshi looking down on them.
“Right, eat out,” Jiang Jianmin corrected himself immediately and smiled, “Our own son is impressive—grades so good, and he got into Fudan.”
“Those kids who used to look down on me? Ha! Now it’s my turn,” he laughed.
“Did their kids get into college?” Zhang Xiangping asked.
“My own son is a Fudan scholar!”
Zhang Xiangping thought for a moment, then told Jiang Jianmin, “About Jiang Luo… maybe we should try to coax him a little.”
“His parents have good conditions, you know.”
“I mean, now that his real parents have accepted him, maybe we can arrange him a good job. Then he can also show filial respect to us.”
Jiang Jianmin narrowed his eyes: “He dare not be unfilial!”
“I raised him to eighteen, cleaned up after him, fed him, nurtured him—that’s my investment in him!”
“Filial gratitude is owed—it’s his debt to us!”
Zhang Xiangping: “You know his temper.”
“If you piss him off, he’ll throw a fit.”
“His parents are well-off; he’ll go back to them eventually.”
“If we don’t coax him, he might not recognize us after he goes back.”
Jiang Jianmin drew on his cigarette: “I’ll break his legs!”
Zhang Xiangping scolded: “Break what? How? You’re taller than him, sure—but you could actually do it?” She advised, “Listen to me, just put on a show, coax him a little. He’s not our real son, but if he rejects us after eighteen years, all that effort is wasted.”
Jiang Jianmin stayed silent.
That day, Zhang Xiangping went to the silk factory office to call Jiang Luo but didn’t find him. The dorm manager said he wasn’t there, so she hung up, unaware that their biological son, Zhao Mingshi, didn’t want to deal with them at all.
Zhao Mingshi could not accept that his real parents weren’t like Su Lan and Zhao Guangyuan but two ordinary silk factory workers. He was frustrated, uninterested in school or studying.
When Zhao Shuo visited the school that day, Zhao Mingshi came out of the dorm and sat silently in the passenger seat.
Zhao Shuo tried to cheer him: “They’re opening a McDonald’s in Shencheng soon, like the one you went to in old San Francisco. I’ll take you there.”
Who cared about McDonald’s?
Zhao Mingshi turned to him, upset: “Brother, you’re not my brother anymore, right? You won’t come see me at school anymore?”
“Will you take your real brother to McDonald’s instead?”
Zhao Shuo immediately said, “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my brother. Even if you’re not biologically theirs, you’ll always be my brother.”
He frowned briefly: “I’ll take you to McDonald’s. Nothing about real or not real brothers.”
Like Su Lan and Zhao Guangyuan, Zhao Shuo didn’t like Jiang Luo.
At the start of the month, when they visited the dorm at the silk factory, Jiang Luo had just returned from the disco, reeking of smoke and alcohol. Zhao Shuo had frowned instantly. He didn’t like Jiang Luo at first sight.
His younger brother should have grown up in a happy, harmonious home, carefree, talented in piano, fluent in English and French, getting into the best universities—not hanging around like a delinquent.
Zhao Shuo reminded himself that Jiang Luo’s situation wasn’t entirely his fault—he came from a poor family. But Zhao Shuo still saw him as self-indulgent. Many ordinary families faced similar hardships, yet their kids grew up fine, went to vocational schools if not academic ones.
Jiang Luo? He couldn’t study, wouldn’t attend class, became a delinquent, spent his nights at discos, mixing with troublemakers. Zhao Shuo strongly disliked it.
He briefly pictured Jiang Luo, then comforted Zhao Mingshi:
“Mingming, don’t worry. Even though you’re not biologically their child, the relationship with your parents and me is real. Everything we’ve gone through together is real. Even without blood ties, we’re still family.”
Zhao Mingshi was still upset: “But once they have their real child, will you still like me?”
“If Jiang Luo thinks I’ve taken something from him, that’s his problem. The switched baby situation wasn’t intentional—no one meant it. You didn’t take anything from anyone. And with your ability and intelligence, you’d still get into Fudan even if you grew up at the silk factory.”
Zhao Mingshi: “When Jiang Luo comes back, do I have to go too? I don’t want to go back. I don’t like where they live. I only like our house.”
Zhao Shuo: “No, you won’t go. You’re my brother, your parents’ son. You stay at school, and only come home during holidays. You only go to your real parents’ place if you want—no one can force you.”
Zhao Mingshi felt reassured: “My parents feel the same way?”
“Of course!” Zhao Shuo reached to pat the back of his head, comforting him: “Focus on school. Your parents and I won’t make you go back. Our bond isn’t about blood; you’re our child, you’ll always be Zhao.”
In the following days, Jiang Luo spent his nights at Dongfang No.1 and his days at the trading office managing stocks.
He no longer slept on the streets. He rented a small inn in Jing’an, paid for a room to sleep and clean up, and bought a few clothes for change. Jing’an had everything—you could buy anything if you had money.
He even went to Wang Chuang’s school in the evenings, had a meal at the gate, and took the 500 yuan Wang Chuang had borrowed from a classmate.
At night, he borrowed a basin from the inn owner, added some detergent, and washed the blue suit. He hung it to dry and cleaned the pocket square as well. He left the money untouched, storing it safely.
Looking at the dripping suit, he thought to himself: he didn’t know who had left it, and probably never would find out. But he was grateful for the stranger’s kindness. He promised himself that even if he didn’t become particularly virtuous in this life, he would remember today’s kindness and, if the chance arose, offer the same to those in need.
“Hey, Droplet, put a basin under it to catch the water,” the inn owner complained.
“Got it,” Jiang Luo said, nudging a basin into place.
Meanwhile, Zhang Xiangping and Jiang Jianmin hadn’t seen him for days. They assumed he had gone back to the Zhao family without a word and were furious, calling the Zhaos.
Su Lan, sitting on the sofa, was surprised: “Jiang Luo? No, he hasn’t come back.”
Su Lan and Zhao Guangyuan were both busy with work, so they hadn’t been paying attention to the kids. Su Lan had even asked around to find Jiang Luo a job.
When they realized he wasn’t anywhere, Zhang Xiangping was confused, and Su Lan alarmed. She called Zhao Guangyuan, who sighed upon hearing that Jiang Luo hadn’t been home for days: “This kid is too careless. Got it, I’ll go back right away.”
Meanwhile, Jiang Jianmin grumbled to Zhang Xiangping: “Useless brat. Don’t know whose temper he inherited! The Zhao family might as well take him in. Once they do, that’s it—I won’t deal with him anymore!”