The Tenth Person at the Reunion Dinner

On New Year’s Eve, the male lead brings his newlywed wife back to his hometown for the family reunion dinner. According to local custom, red envelopes must be handed out to every younger family member before the meal. His father counts them again and again, then suddenly slams down his chopsticks. “There are clearly ten people at the table. Why did I only prepare nine red envelopes?” The whole family freezes. From the oldest to the youngest, there are plainly only nine people at the table. Even stranger, no one can remember who the “extra person” is, yet everyone can describe them clearly: wearing a red padded jacket, sitting silently with their head bowed in the seat closest to the door. The male lead’s wife suddenly whispers, “Is Dad’s dementia acting up?” He is about to explain when his phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number appears: “Your dad isn’t sick. Look at the calluses on your mother’s hand. She was just scratching the name of the tenth person into the floor beneath the table with her fingernail.”