On the day of the Su family's annual meeting, the eighty-year-old man distributed tens of billions of inheritance in public.
Villas, shares, mansions - all descendants have a share.
I was the only one who got a yellowed suicide note.
The cousin put his arms around his new girlfriend and laughed in front of all the guests: "Does a bastard deserve a share of the family property?"
I smiled and tore up the suicide note, turned around and stopped taking the traditional Chinese medicine that the old man was taking to prolong his life.
Three days later, at the door of the ICU, those superior relatives knelt on the ground: "Only you can prepare that medicine. Please go and see the old man..."
I leaned against the wall and slowly tore off the white strips on the orange: "When he locked up my mother and forced her to get married, did he ever think about today?"
They were stunned.
I continued: "When he took advantage of the Zhou family's difficulties and robbed the drug store for 30% of the price, did he ever think that the store should have belonged to my father?"
Su Beichen's face turned pale: "Your dad? Isn't your dad..."
"My dad's name is Zhou Yu'an." I took out two yellowed photos from my pocket. "He waited for my mother in his old residence in Nancheng for three days and three nights. When he almost froze to death, Su Jingyao was driving him out of Jiangcheng."
Two photos, more than twenty years apart.
One picture shows grandma and young Su Jingyao, standing under the locust tree.
One shows my mother and another man standing in front of the drug store.
The same alley, the same angle, the same smile.
"In the summer of 23, my mother was sixteen and he was nineteen." I put the photo away. "Later, he died in a foreign country, and he didn't even know that my mother had given birth to a daughter for him until his death."
The corridor was so quiet that you could hear the ticking sound of the infusion tube.
Su Zhengye took a step back and hit the wall.
I stood up and walked between them.
"I don't know how to prepare that medicine." I said without looking back, "That's the Zhou family's prescription. There is someone in the Zhou family."
——That's me.
For eighteen years, I lived in the Su family as the "adopted daughter", and I was looked down upon and ignored.
For eighteen years, they didn't know that the unfinished letter my mother left before she died contained a man who had been waiting for her for three days and three nights.
Eighteen years later, I finally knew that I was the daughter of the Zhou family, holding in my hand their most desired life-extending prescription.
Now, it's time to settle the score.
Intent: A yellowed suicide note reveals the love-hate entanglement between two generations. When blood relationship became a tool of calculation, I chose to use my own way to seek justice for my mother for eighteen years.