A contract for a school district house worth tens of millions was placed in front of real estate agent Zhou Lei. The client is a well-known rich man, and the familiar name in the attachment of the contract - Li Yuanchao, is the "comrade who returned to the city" that his father has talked about for half his life, saved his life but also lost his trust. The father was worried about the down payment for his grandson in his hometown, but the son of a comrade-in-arms spent a lot of money in the capital. On the day of signing the contract, Zhou Lei pressed his fingerprint and pressed the memory gate of two generations that had been dusted for forty years: the life and death trust of Beidahuang, the ruthless selection of the times, the guilt of broken promises and the gap between reality. In this transaction, what was sold was not only a house, but also the backbone of my father's generation and the ultimate test of faith in an era. What he wants is not a client's commission, but to get back that lifelong "I'm sorry" for his father.
