Chapter 2 — From the Ashes to the Pinnacle

In my previous life, I thought you didn't need me anymore. It was not until the fifth year after being paralyzed that I heard from an old colleague of his that— Tham Ve Quoc had gone to the South. From construction worker to contractor, then from contractor to construction materials business. He indeed made money. But Trieu Ngoc Phan moved house three times, changed his phone number, and even told outsiders that my father had died. Tham Ve Quoc searched for me for three years but couldn't find me. After that, he remarried and had a new family. But he left behind a sum of money. One million two hundred thousand yuan. Deposited in an account in my name and handed over to a lawyer. "If you find my son, please give this money to him." In my previous life, when I knew this, I was twenty-nine years old. That card has been in the lawyer's hands for eleven years, with no one claiming it. Because Trieu Ngoc Phan told everyone—including the neighborhood committee and the police station—that my father “left, we don't need you two anymore, don't look for him.” It was she who cut off all ties between me and Tham Ve Quoc. Just for twelve hundred yuan in alimony each month. What happens after receiving pension? All was spent on Lam Phong. Extra classes, new clothes, good schools. I wore the old uniform that Lam Phong no longer used, studying at the worst public secondary school. But this life is different. Three days later, Tham Ve Quoc would call Trieu Ngoc Phan's old phone number—that number had not been canceled and could still receive calls. In her previous life, Trieu Ngoc Phan answered the phone and said one sentence: "Don't call anymore, we don't need you." Then she hung up. This life. I will listen to that phone call. The next day. Conditions at the location were very bad, but there was one advantage—Trieu Ngoc Phan had to go out during the day to look for relatives to borrow money, so he was not present. Lam Phong huddled in the corner, playing with an old phone dug from the rubble—the screen was broken but it could still be started. I sat on the folding bed looking at him. Lam Phong is twelve years old. There was still terror on his face from last night, and his eyes were slightly red. He raised his head to look at me, his lips moving: "Brother..." He called me brother. Previous life also called that. Called very sweetly, very intimately. But then what? Later, he worked at an investment bank, earned a lot of money, and bought a house in an area with good schools. Trieu Ngoc Phan moved to live with him. I asked Trieu Ngoc Phan for the alimony of twelve hundred yuan—she had owed me half a year and hadn't given it yet. Lam Phong answered for her: "Brother, my mother's health is not good, please sympathize a little. How about I transfer living expenses to you every month?" He gave it for three months and then stopped. Then I sent a text message, he read it but didn't reply. Later, I froze to death in my rented house in the winter. The day Trieu Ngoc Phan came to claim the body, Lam Phong did not appear. Only later did I find out—that day he was on his honeymoon in the Maldives. "You?" Lam Phong called again, his voice timid: "Are you... okay?" I looked at that still immature face. "It's okay." My voice was very pale. I don't resent him. No resentment now. What does a twelve year old child understand? It was Trieu Ngoc Phan who raised him to become such a person. A sophisticated self-interested person who never considers others as human beings. But in this life— What kind of person you will grow into is no longer relevant to me. I won't give you the chance to step on me to climb higher. Afternoon. Trieu Ngoc Phan returned, her face not very good. "Ngoc Phan's sister-in-law's family said they wouldn't lend money." She muttered to herself, sitting down. Then she searched her bag and took out her phone. An old Nokia with a keyboard. She looked

screen, no missed calls. Then conveniently throw the phone next to the pillow. I memorize the location. At eleven o'clock at night, Trieu Ngoc Phan was asleep. Lam Phong is also sleeping. I gently got out of bed and walked to Trieu Ngoc Phan's pillow. The Nokia was located about ten centimeters to the right of the pillow. I reached out. Firm, light, precise. Got it. Open the lid, the screen lights up. No password. I went to the phonebook. Trieu Ngoc Phan's phonebook only has more than thirty numbers, I looked at each number one by one. "Tham Ve Quoc." Still there. The phone number is still available. She did not delete it. Not because she was still attached to her old love, but because she needed this phone number to confirm whether alimony money had been transferred to her account or not. I recited the phone number three times, engraving it in my head. Then put the phone back to its original position. Back to bed. Stare at the ceiling. Three days later. Tham Ve Quoc will take the initiative to call—according to the timeline of his previous life, on the third day after the fire, he heard the news that "Trieu Ngoc Phan's house was on fire" from a former colleague. He will call to confirm the situation. But this time, I won't wait for you to call. I will call you first. Tomorrow, I have to figure out how to find a phone I can use. The residential office has a landline phone. Five minutes walk from the layout site. I closed my eyes. Heart rate is very stable.