Lin Feng worked on a construction site hauling bricks, earning 120 yuan a day. His grandfather had just been buried. He squatted by the grave, fiddling with the joss paper, and didn’t cry.
That night, he went back to the site dorm and made instant noodles. He was halfway through when two black cars pulled up outside. Three men in suits came in after knocking. The square-faced man leading them bowed. “Young Master Lin, greetings.”
Lin Feng spat out a mouthful of broth. “The young master is at a foot-washing place. You’ve got the wrong guy.”
The square-faced man handed him a business card: Director of Special Affairs, Lin Investment Group. He said Lin Feng’s grandfather was the group’s founder, with personal assets worth over 100 billion and branches in more than thirty countries around the world.
“My grandfather’s hospital bills were paid for with the money I made hauling bricks. And you’re telling me he was worth over 100 billion?”
The square-faced man didn’t explain. He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and handed Lin Feng a kraft-paper envelope.
The first photo showed his grandfather in a suit, standing in front of the Lin Building. In the second, his grandfather was shaking hands with someone Lin Feng had seen on the evening news.
The third was a family portrait. On the back, someone had written in fountain pen: Spring Festival, 2005.
This plot design is ingenious; kudos to the author!
Okay, okay, okay