Lin Che suddenly sneezed.
The sound echoed lightly through the small room, sharp and unexpected. Almost immediately, her grandmother turned around, alarm flickering across her lined face. Without a word, she reached for a folded sweater resting on the chair and carefully draped it over Lin Che's shoulders.
"It's getting cold lately," she said, tugging the fabric closer around her granddaughter. "Be careful not to catch a cold."
Lin Che smiled, the kind of smile she always wore when she didn't want her grandmother to worry. "Thank you, Grandma. I'll only be gone for a few hours. Just wait for me here."
Her grandmother clicked her tongue softly. "I'm not a child anymore."
Lin Che laughed as she bent down to tighten her shoelaces. "This job will help pay for your medicine next week. If everything goes well, you'll finally be able to take the good medicine the doctor prescribed."
The old woman's expression softened. "I don't need it."
"Yes, you do," Lin Che said firmly, pouting slightly as she straightened up. "Just wait for me. I'll work really hard and make sure you get better. Okay?"
Her grandmother could only smile, watching as Lin Che slung her bag over her shoulder and waved goodbye before heading out the door.
As the door closed, the smile on the old woman's face lingered—but beneath it lay guilt.
Ever since her illness had worsened, Lin Che had taken on one odd job after another. Cleaning, carrying, helping wherever help was needed—never once complaining. The grandmother's chest tightened at the thought. She had lived long enough to know that love sometimes came wrapped in sacrifice, and that knowledge weighed heavily on her.
Meanwhile, Lin Che hurried down the hill, her steps light despite the uneven path. At the main road, she spotted Nan Lu waiting, hands tucked into her jacket pockets.
"You're late," Nan Lu teased.
"I had to argue with my grandma about medicine again," Lin Che replied, rolling her eyes fondly.
Nan Lu laughed. "Same old Lin Che."
Together, they made their way toward the village's edge, where a newly expanded corporation stood like an out-of-place giant among the modest surroundings. The building was brand new—glass windows gleaming, floors untouched. That was precisely why they were there.
The contractor greeted them eagerly, his eyes lighting up the moment he saw Nan Lu.
"You're here early," he said, smiling a little too widely.
Lin Che caught the look and stifled a laugh.
Nan Lu elbowed her hard in the side.
"Ow!" Lin Che doubled over, laughing through the pain.
The contractor cleared his throat, pretending not to notice. "These are the new offices. Operations start next week. I want everything spotless before then. You can work in sections, but by next weekend, it needs to be done."
Lin Che and Nan Lu nodded enthusiastically, like children promised candy.
It was the highest-paying job they'd had in months.
They got to work immediately, sleeves rolled up, movements efficient and practiced. Dust rose and fell, sunlight filtered through the windows, and for a while, Lin Che allowed herself to forget everything else.
Back at home, her grandmother busied herself with chores.
She washed vegetables slowly, methodically, then took out the bones she had prepared earlier. Bone soup took time—hours of slow simmering—but Lin Che loved it. The grandmother smiled faintly as she set the pot on the stove.
That was when she heard footsteps.
Not the familiar rhythm of villagers passing by—but firm, deliberate steps.
She turned.
Standing at the doorway was a woman dressed elegantly, her posture straight, her expression sharp. Behind her stood several men in black suits, their faces blank, eyes cold.
The grandmother wiped her hands on her apron and stepped forward cautiously. "How can I help you?"
The woman scoffed, looking around the modest house as if it offended her senses. "Help me? Of course you can help me—with many things."
Her gaze snapped back to the old woman. "Is Lin Che your granddaughter?"
"Yes," the grandmother replied, confused. "She is. Are you looking for her?"
"I am," the woman said coldly. "Where is she?"
"She's already gone to work," the grandmother answered honestly. "If you want to see her, you'll have to come back tomorrow."
She turned to return to the kitchen.
Suddenly, a hand clamped around her wrist.
The grip was tight, unforgiving.
The grandmother gasped as she was yanked around, her frail body stumbling forward before she lost her balance and fell hard against the ground.
Pain shot through her side.
In that moment, she understood—this woman was not here to talk.
"What do you want?" the grandmother demanded, struggling to push herself up, resentment burning in her eyes.
Second Madam Gong looked down at her with undisguised contempt.
"Your granddaughter doesn't know how to respect her boundaries," she said coolly. "There are things in this world that belong to others. Stealing is not how a proper woman should behave."
The grandmother's eyes widened. "My Lin Che would never steal from anyone. You are wrong."
Second Madam Gong sneered. "Wrong? She stole my son for over eighteen years."
The words fell like poison.
"She clung to Gong Rui when she had no right to," Second Madam Gong continued, her voice sharp. "A village girl who didn't know her place, daring to dream beyond her station."
The grandmother trembled—not with fear, but with fury.
"Who do you think you are," she snapped, "to speak about my granddaughter like this? A heartless woman like you—who would believe anything you say?"
Second Madam Gong's eyes narrowed.
"My Lin Che has more class than you ever will," the old woman went on, her voice shaking but strong. "All the money in the world can't buy decency. She grew up poor, but she grew up right."
The slap came without warning.
The sound echoed sharply.
The grandmother crumpled to the ground, her vision blurring as pain exploded across her cheek. It took her several long seconds to even attempt to rise.
Second Madam Gong flexed her fingers, her expression dark.
"Take her," she said coldly to the men behind her. "I want her to regret ever raising that wretched granddaughter of hers."