My phone vibrated seventeen times before I looked up from the pile of express delivery.
A text message popped up on the screen: "Mr. Shen Yuan, your second uncle Shen Defu passed away at 3:17 this morning at the age of 87. Please go to Room 102 of the Lianhua Road Waste Station Complex Building within three days to go through the inheritance inheritance procedures."
I stared at the words "end of my life" and my mind was stuck for ten seconds.
Second uncle? Where did my second uncle come from? My mother is an only child. My grandparents have left long ago, and there is no place to visit relatives during the holidays. Where did this second uncle come from?
But the text message was very telling, and it also attached a copy of his ID card, with "Shen Defu" written in black and white, and the address column was clearly the Lianhua Road Scrap Station Complex. I checked the map and found that the place was at the urban-rural fringe of the old city. Half of the shantytowns had been renovated and demolished, and the remaining dilapidated buildings stood there like ruins.
I really don't want to go. But the agency is pressing for rent, and the balance on the card is only four digits. If I don't make money, I can't even afford instant noodles.
