Every Time I Read an Old Object, I Forget One Memory of Grandma

Three days after her grandmother passed away, Shen Zhixia received a notice that the collateral would be seized: 480,000 yuan, due in ninety days. The lock on the old shop in the antiques district had been changed, and a rain-soaked notice curled on the door. While sorting through her grandmother’s belongings, her fingertips brushed an old pocket watch. A silent scene flashed before her eyes: rain, a narrow alley, a black umbrella, and someone handing over the watch. From that moment on, she could no longer remember the last thing her grandmother said before she died. She could read the past of old objects, but the price was her own memories. The ledger said the original loan was only 80,000 yuan. Someone had signed on her grandmother’s behalf. And someone had known before her just how much the shop was worth. She had only ninety days to take the shop back from them.