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墨書 Inktalez
As the phone's ringtone blared like an alarm, Lin Xiaofan was sorting through materials related to the mining disaster. On the screen, a yellowed photograph displayed his father's youthful face alongside Zhao Tianming, separated by a blurry figure—most likely Old Zhou.
"Lin, something big has happened!" Assistant Xiao Chen's voice crackled through the receiver, mixed with a cacophony of background noise. "Did you see today's trending topics?"
Lin Xiaofan switched to the news page, and the tag "Charity Money Laundering" glaringly occupied the third spot. Clicking on the topic, he found a lengthy article titled "The Business of Charity by a Mysterious Tycoon," featuring a photo of him and Zhao Tianming at an art exhibition.
"According to insiders..." The article rambled on for thousands of words, but its core message boiled down to one sentence: Lin Xiaofan was laundering money under the guise of charity. Even more damning were the attached registration details of the "Xiao Fan Love Fund" and several large transfer records—exactly what he had done during his early system tests.
"Ding—"
The first termination message arrived from a previously agreed-upon book sponsor. Then came the second, third... In just ten minutes, seven partner companies sent emails to end their collaborations. The most devastating blow came from the bank: "Dear customer, your account has been temporarily frozen due to unusual transactions..."
"Damn it!" Lin Xiaofan slammed his fist on the table, causing a picture frame to topple over and glass shards to scatter.
He forced himself to calm down and pulled up the article's backend data. IP tracking revealed that it had first been published at "Speed Internet Cafe" in the northern part of the city—the very place Zhang Hao frequented.
The rain came suddenly. By the time Lin Xiaofan burst into the internet cafe, his hair and shirt were already soaked. The attendant behind the counter glanced up at him before returning to his phone: "ID."
"I'm looking for someone." Lin Xiaofan scanned the dimly lit hall where computer screens flickered with ghostly blue light amidst swirling smoke.
In a corner, Zhang Hao's distinctive gold chain was the first clue to his location. But what froze Lin Xiaofan's blood was seeing Zhao Tianming's secretary sitting across from his cousin, sliding a thick envelope across the table.
"Zhang Hao!" Lin Xiaofan's roar drowned out the sounds of gaming in the cafe.
His cousin jerked his head up, the gold chain swinging around his neck. He quickly stuffed the envelope into his jacket and forced a smile. "Hey, cousin! What a coincidence!"
"Coincidence my ass!" Lin Xiaofan grabbed him by the collar. "Did you leak those dirt files?"
"Let go!" The secretary snapped sharply. "Otherwise, President Zhao can't guarantee your mother's safety."
That statement hit him like a bucket of ice water. Lin Xiaofan released his grip and took a step back. "What have you done... to my mom?"
"Don't panic." The secretary elegantly adjusted her skirt. "We just sent a few reporters to 'interview' your elderly mother." She glanced at her watch meaningfully. "At this hour, they should be arriving at your village."
Lin Xiaofan's phone rang just then. The word "Mother" on the screen made his fingers tremble.
"Mom?!"
On the other end, amidst chaotic voices, his mother's tearful voice broke through intermittently: "Xiaofan... there are many people at the door... saying you scammed them..."
"I'll be right back! Don't open the door!"
The secretary chuckled lightly. "Now can we talk?" She pulled out a contract from her briefcase. "Sign this, and President Zhao guarantees your mother won't be disturbed; those negative news stories will also be... handled properly."
The gold-embossed words "Zhao Charity Foundation" on the cover of the contract stung Lin Xiaofan's eyes. He didn't need to look closely to know this was undoubtedly a contract of servitude—exchanging his system for "innocence."
"Cousin, be smart about this." Zhang Hao leaned in closer, the smell of alcohol wafting from him. "The offer from President Zhao is quite generous; it’s enough for you to build a building back home."
Lin Xiaofan's gaze flickered between his cousin and the female secretary. Suddenly, he noticed a corner of an envelope peeking out from Zhang Hao's arms—it wasn't just any ordinary brown paper; it was a special envelope marked with "Xishan Mining."
"Have you thought it through?" the female secretary impatiently tapped on the table.
In a sudden burst of anger, Lin Xiaofan grabbed a cup of cola from the table and splashed it onto Zhang Hao's face. "Tell Zhao Tianming that he’s finished!"
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