The next morning, in the mailbox at the door.

We received another envelope with seven hundred yuan, but without a signature.

My father seemed very happy about this unexpected fortune.

But I felt only unease.

Could that man really be dead?

Could the person who died be the one from last night?

I suddenly realized that the strange letter did not seem to be a joke.

Who would make such a joke?

"Xiao Nan, there really is seven hundred yuan."

My father stood in front of the mailbox, a broad smile on his face.

But I was a bit worried.

"Dad, there's something wrong with this letter. Last night when I went to the supermarket to buy groceries, I saw someone also named Zhao Wei, I think..."

"Isn't it just seven hundred yuan? What's so wrong about it? If you really feel uncomfortable, give the money to me and I'll handle it!"

I remained silent.

Fifteen minutes later, my father used all of the seven hundred yuan to buy lottery tickets.

But he didn't win a single number.

"Damn it! All my luck has been taken away by that woman!"

He said his luck was always this bad.

His wife ran away with the money and their younger daughter, and his career was ruined as well.

I didn't want to listen to his complaints.

So I went downstairs, planning to go out for a walk.