After leaving the hospital, Chen Jia li was taken back to the small downtown house she had shared with her grandmother. Stepping across the threshold, she was hit by the crushing, final reality that the place was now utterly silent. The air no longer carried the faint, warm smell of Grandma Shan Hu's baking or the gentle rhythm of her rocking chair.
The composure Jia li had maintained in the hospital shattered. She collapsed onto the wooden floor in the living room, tears finally coming in a devastating torrent she had held back for seven long years. She cried for the loss of her parents and the profound loss of the only person who had ever truly loved her unconditionally. It was the deepest, most isolating grief she had ever known.
For the next two days, Jia li focused on practicalities, using routine to mask the raw edges of her pain. She cleaned the house meticulously, scrubbing away the dust as if she could scrub away the sorrow. She organized Shan Hu's belongings and spent hours just sitting in the small garden, mourning her grandmother in quiet solitude. She knew this was the last place she would ever feel safe.
Neighbors visited constantly, offering condolences and simple meals. Among them were Mrs. Zhuo, the kind woman who managed Shan Hu's restaurant, and her father, Old Man Lu. They spoke of Shan Hu's kindness and dedication to Jia li, reminding the girl that her grandmother's efforts had not been in vain.
One evening, Aunt Yina, her parents' old friend who had been there the night of the fire, came to visit. Yina had always kept in touch, but their meetings were usually short and cheerful. Now, Yina's eyes were swollen with real grief. She held Jia li tightly, promising to help in any way she could.
"Your mother loved you so much, Jia li," Yina murmured, stirring memories the girl rarely allowed herself to touch. "She fought so hard for you to be safe. Everything she did was for you."
Jia li, now fourteen, was sharp and observant. She noticed the nervous tremor in Yina's hands. "Aunt Yina, why did my mother fight with her famly, was it something very serious?"
Yina paled slightly, quickly looking away. "No, no, darling. Just… normal family disagreements. All families have them."
Jia li pressed her, sensing a vital secret. "But Uncle Wu Lang and Aunt Wu Ming never visited us, and Grandma Shan Hu told me my mother and father kept their distance from the Wu family. Was there a big fight?"
Yina swallowed hard, her composure slipping further. "Well, yes, there were issues. Your mother was very protective of your father, you see. And your father… your father was no ordinary man. He came from a powerful background, even though he chose a simple life with your mom. But his family and your mom's family didn't always see eye to eye on certain business matters."
Jia li's eyes narrowed. "My father's family? I thought his only family was Grandma Shan Hu."
Yina instantly snapped out of her confession, realizing she had said far too much. Her face froze in panic. "Oh, dear, look at the time! I completely forgot I have an appointment. I shouldn't be tiring you out with old stories, darling. We'll talk more later, okay? Stay strong."
Before Jia li could say another word, Yina rushed out of the door, practically fleeing the conversation.
Jia li sat alone in the quiet house, her mind racing. My father was no ordinary man. Business matters, conflict between the families. For seven years, she had believed her grandma was her only family. She even forgot about her mother's family. Now, a cold, hard knot of suspicion began to tighten in her stomach.
If her father was powerful, and there was conflict, what caused it all? And why is everyone separated? The final clue she needed was now locked away in her suspicious mind.
***
Sunday arrived, bringing with it the funeral and the inevitable confrontation with her mother's family. The service was held at a prestigious, quiet cemetery, a stark contrast to the small, humble life Shan Hu had lived.
Jia li, dressed in a black dress bought by Aunt Yina, arrived with Mrs. Zhuo and Old Man Lu, who stayed to ensure she wasn't alone. Waiting near the burial site was a large group of people dressed in expensive black attire; the Wu family.
Jia li had only met these people once, at her parents' funeral, seven years ago.
She stood quietly, absorbing every detail, every facial expression. She was no longer a traumatized seven year old; she was a calculating fourteen year old, armed with a fresh, burning suspicion.
She first recognized her maternal grandparents; Grandpa Wu Dongshi and Grandma Wu Lilan. Both looked appropriately solemn, and in their eyes, Jia li could detect a flicker of what seemed like genuine sadness and responsibility toward her.
Next were her mother's siblings;
Wu Lang, her mother's older brother, whom she had already met at the hospital, stood beside his wife, Wu Ming. Their expressions were a mix of pity and concern that rang hollow.
Wu Kang, her mother's younger brother, stood nearby. He was quieter than Wu Lang but carried the same expensive, detached air.
Fu Wei, her mother's older sister, stood slightly apart from her brothers. Fu Wei had married into the Fu family. Her face showed a visible, unmasked distress, and she looked at Jia li with a deep sorrow that felt more honest than anyone else's in the group.
Then came the cousins, her peers, who were already looking at her with thinly veiled disgust;
Wu Lang and Wu Ming's child, Wu Mei. Wu Mei wore a blank expression, but once she locked eyes with Jia Li, she gave a small smile that didn't reach her eyes, Jia Li just looked away.
Wu Kang's children Wu Bao the daughter and Wu Hao the son. Wu Bao also watched Jia li with intense dislike. Wu Hao was the most talkative of the siblings, though he didn't address Jia li directly.
Fu Wei's daughter: Fu Shenxi. She was quiet and stood slightly behind her mother, giving Jia li no attention at all. She seemed completely detached from the family drama.
There was one other unfamiliar face;
Zhang Hui. He was the grandson of Grandpa Wu's sister, making him a distant relative. Zhang Hui was quiet, standing at the very edge of the group, seemingly just an observer.
As the funeral progressed, Jia li made a mental ledger of every person. She noted the ones whose grief seemed real; the maternal grandparents and Aunt Fu Wei and contrasted them sharply with the rest, whose polished clothes and false piety seemed to mock the simple wooden coffin.
The expressions of Wu Bao were particularly grating. She was not even trying to hide her hatred, looking at her as if she were dirt dragged into their pristine mansion. The air was thick with her unspoken resentment and the tension from the others.
Jia li knew she was no longer just a mourning granddaughter. She was a threat, an outsider, and now, a suspected target. She observed the entire Wu family, marking every face and calculating the depth of their sincerity. Her grief was still overwhelming, but beneath it, a cold, hard resolution began to form. She would enter their world, and she would find out why everything turned out the way it did.