Chapter 57: The Inheritance

He agreed to help make contact and try to get Sumu into the private middle school where his sister-in-law worked.

After chatting for a short while, they returned home. Old Master Qiao arranged for his driver to take them back in his own Rolls-Royce Silver Spirit. The grandfather and grandson sat upright and tense during the ride, terrified of damaging or dirtying anything, knowing they could never afford to pay for it.

Neither of them had ever ridden in such a luxurious car before. The old man was overjoyed, as if he'd been touched by unimaginable luck. Their own battered Toyota, parked outside their house, now seemed unworthy of a second glance.

With age, the old man had resigned himself to a makeshift life, never expecting anything more. But for Sumu, being exposed to such opulence at a young age was perhaps not a good thing. Whether it was a company worth more than ten million dollars, or a Rolls-Royce worth over a hundred thousand, these were things far beyond his reach. He was overwhelmed by the allure of wealth.

Fortunately, Sumu was ambitious. What he witnessed that night only deepened his understanding of the lifestyles of the upper class. It made him want to earn money and live comfortably too. He hadn't yet noticed the downsides of being rich; but the hardships of poverty, he knew all too well.

It’s worth mentioning that at this point, Sumu was unaware that the money he had invested in Quigou Supermarket was enough to buy over a hundred ordinary apartments in the heart of Shanghai, if policy allowed for such purchases.

But the opening of the housing market, permitting private home sales, was an event still ten years in the future...

That night, Sumu saw news coverage about the embezzlement of relief funds on ABC. His name was not mentioned. Reporters didn’t care who had uncovered the corruption; they only cared about ratings and social impact. The anchor, with a somber tone, expressed sympathy for the elderly Chinese victims and urged the authorities to investigate thoroughly and bring justice.

The evidence was irrefutable.

As a result, Director Gilry of the Social Security Administration offered little resistance during interrogation, confessing everything. Ge Dalong was arrested, but his son, Ge Qiu, who was also involved, had vanished without a trace.

The prosecutors only noticed Ge Dalong's son on the third day after the case broke. By then, Ge Qiu had already disappeared, as if he'd evaporated into thin air. The case became a topic of idle conversation across America, until, a few days later, the media realized public interest was waning and quietly shifted their coverage to more entertaining stories.

Old Lady Lin delivered zongzi again.

A few days ago, when she heard she was about to receive such a large sum of money, she was nearly frightened to death, collapsing at her doorway. The SSA, seeking to make amends, was arranging for her to move to a nursing home to enjoy her old age.

Lately, Sumu had eaten so many zongzi he was nearly sick of them, but he still accepted them with a wry smile. It was a kind gesture, after all. The house was filled with gifts from the elderly, tokens of gratitude that, though ignored by the media, were not forgotten by the Chinese elders he had helped.

Over more than twenty years, nearly a thousand elderly people had their relief funds embezzled, totaling over four million dollars. The Social Security Administration intended to compensate them, but discovered that many had already passed away, beyond any hope of redress.

Though her mind occasionally wandered due to age, Old Lady Lin still knew who treated her well.

On August 27th, after delivering zongzi, she didn’t leave. Words of thanks had already been said many times, to the point of embarrassing Sumu, who now smiled awkwardly and said,

“Grandma Lin, you don’t need to bring zongzi to my house anymore. Pack up your things in the morning—someone will take you to the nursing home in the afternoon. Everything you need is there, and there are people to look after you. I’ll come visit when I can!”

Her hearing was poor, so Sumu spoke loudly.

“Yes, I know. I’ve already seen several friends there. The rooms are clean.”

Old Lady Lin spoke no English. When she first arrived in America, she only spoke her hometown dialect, and decades later, nothing had changed.

Her wrinkled, age-spotted face broke into a smile. She looked left and right, lowered her voice, and confided to Sumu,

“Some people tried to trick me into moving in with them. Children of distant relatives—none of them ever visited me before.

This morning I told Lawyer Jiang, if anything happens to me someday, all the money they gave me should go to you. Keep helping others, just like you do now. I’ve watched you grow up—you’re the best child around here, and I trust you.”

Her voice was frail but clear. She took a document from her basket, handed it to Sumu, then added kindly with a smile,

“I can’t read these words. You’ve had more schooling—see if there’s anything wrong with it.

I only know how to write my own name. Don’t think it looks ugly. I was clever as a child too, but never had a chance to go to school. Families back then didn’t let girls study…”

The news of her compensation had barely spread before several people turned up at her home, claiming to be distant relatives who wanted to take her in. Sumu had heard about this from the neighborhood women at his doorway.

In poverty, even in a busy city, no one asks after you; in wealth, even in the remote mountains, distant relatives appear. Sumu had seen Old Lady Lin living alone in her small house since he was a child, and never saw anyone visit—until now, when several people had shown up, eager to carry her home if they could. Their motives were obvious: money.

It seemed Old Lady Lin understood their game.

She had no children, her husband had died young. Leaving her soon-to-be-received money to Sumu was only reasonable—it was, after all, due to his efforts, and she was too old to use it herself.

Sumu stared blankly at the simple will, which contained no conditions: after Old Lady Lin’s death, all her estate would go to him. The document bore both Lawyer Jiang’s and her signatures, along with a red fingerprint.

At that moment, Sumu finally learned her full name: Lin Ruan. She might have been illiterate, but she wrote her name very neatly, as if she’d practiced hard.

Flushing, Sumu shook his head. “This isn’t right—I can’t take your money! I helped you because I thought it was the right thing to do, not because I wanted anything. I really can’t accept it!”

“That’s why I want you to have it. Education costs money, and so does getting married. When there’s no one to give, what else can I do? At my age, I live day by day, waiting to be buried. Should I leave it to those so-called relatives? Impossible!”

She said this with an expression of disgust, her tone hardening. “I’d rather throw it all into the river than let them have it.

You probably don’t know—when I was at my poorest, I went two days without food and tried to borrow some rice from them. They gave me barely four or five handfuls, and didn’t even let me in the door. The next month, they came to my house and took a whole sack of rice away. I still remember it clearly—I cried for days out of anger.”

Clearly, the bitterness remained in her heart. “Good is repaid with good, evil with evil”—Sumu thought this saying had never been more apt.

He didn’t know what to do, and his hand was still held by her as he stammered, “It really isn’t right…”

“If I say it’s right, then it’s right.” The old lady’s face softened into a smile. “It’s settled, then. I’ll go make some more zongzi and take them to the nursing home.

When I’m gone, bury me in the little cemetery to the south, and get a better headstone for my husband. He suffered long enough; let him enjoy some comfort with me. Your grandpa knows where it is.

I only have these few things to spend on. I’ll leave you a fair bit when the time comes. And when you grow up, find a good wife like your mother—she always brought me food, and I’ve never forgotten her kindness…”