Chapter 219: Family Legacy

2022-05-20

As it turns out, Wu Xiufen really did have a younger sister named Wu Xiufang. The photo at the bedside must have been of Wu Xiufang. In Wanghu Village, there’s a long-standing custom that you have to burn black paper so the souls of the unjustly dead can receive it. Wu Xiufen and Wu Xiufang grew up in Wanghu Village, so of course, they believed in all that. When Wu Xiufen burned black paper, she really meant it for her sister.

Earlier, that villager saw the head of a ghostly woman facing the tombstone, weeping. So who exactly is this ghost?

That’s when Xiao Liu continued, “There were three children in the Wu family—Wu Jianguo, Wu Xiufen, and Wu Xiufang. All three started working in the factory when they were young. As they grew up, it was only natural for them to inherit their father’s craft. The son was in charge of the pottery, while the daughters handled the glazing.”

I asked, “Then what happened?”

“Eventually the three of them got married, but that didn’t stop them from working at the Red Mill Factory. Back then, the factory was still making good money. As the years passed Old Wu’s health declined, and the factory had to be handed down. But the older generation held to the tradition: pass business to the son, not the daughters.”

I frowned and tugged at my hair, then said, “You’re not about to tell me Wu Xiufang killed herself because of this, are you?”

Xiao Liu nodded. “That’s exactly it. According to Wu Jianguo, when their father’s health began to fail he called the siblings to his bedside to talk about the Red Mill Factory. Of course, it was a given that his son would inherit it—everyone in the village thought that way.”

“I get it.”

Of course I do. Even just a few decades ago, traditional villages heavily favored sons over daughters. It was considered normal for a son to inherit a father’s legacy. Daughters, once married, were seen as ‘water spilled out’—no longer part of the family. Thankfully, that mindset is rare these days.

Xiao Liu let out a sigh. “While he was still clear-minded, the old man handed the factory over to Wu Jianguo and gave each of his daughters several thousand yuan. That kind of money forty years ago was actually a lot. Most of the inheritance went to the son, but the villagers still said Old Wu was more than fair to his daughters.”

“So the unfair split led to suicide?” This sort of thing happens in real life all the time—it’s enough to make siblings wonder if they’re family or just rivals.

“It’s a pretty cliché story,” Xiao Liu said. “But that’s how Wu Jianguo described it. Wu Xiufen was willing to accept it, but Wu Xiufang couldn’t. She thought she got too little. She wanted her father to sell the factory and split the money evenly three ways.”

Honestly, that sounds fair. From this angle, Wu Xiufang wasn’t in the wrong.

“I can’t blame her for that,” I said.

“Exactly.” Xiao Liu clicked his tongue. “Nowadays, most people would agree with what Wu Xiufang did. But to the older generation, a married daughter actually daring to compete with her brother for the inheritance—it was unfilial, even outrageous.”

Xiao Liu paused, then continued, “And so, everything was stuck. The family feud over inheritance sapped everyone’s energy—nobody cared about running the factory anymore and the workers all left. The factory was Old Wu’s life’s work. He really didn’t want to let it go. He tried offering Wu Xiufang ten thousand yuan. Back then, being a ‘ten-thousand-yuan household’ was a big deal, but she still refused.”

“Then one day,” Xiao Liu’s voice grew weary, “Wu Xiufang ended up attempting suicide over the inheritance fight. She got into a huge argument with her brother and sister. What should have been a thriving factory and a loving family had completely broken down. As Wu Xiufang was hanging herself in protest, suddenly the old man inside the house passed away. Wu Jianguo and Wu Xiufen rushed to his bedside.”

“They pinched his philtrum, gave him injections, tried everything, but it was no use. They say when he died, the old man glared at them and cursed all three of his children. Xiao Liu slowed his words. “They all knew their father died from rage, broken by his children. When they came out, they saw Wu Xiufang had actually hanged herself.”

“She died just like that?” I asked quickly.

Xiao Liu went on, “That’s right. When Wu Xiufang was threatening suicide, her brother and sister were in the other room with their dying father. I don’t think Wu Xiufang really wanted to die. She was putting on an act to scare her father. But she lost her footing and actually hanged herself for real.”

Xiao Liu let out another sigh. “You know how it is—once you’re hanging, the rope crushes your windpipe and it’s nearly impossible to call for help. Wu Jianguo and Wu Xiufen were distracted by their father, no one realized what had happened to Wu Xiufang. In the end, both the old man and Wu Xiufang died, and all the fighting was meaningless. The factory ended up with Wu Jianguo, while Wu Xiufen left town with thirty thousand yuan. The siblings never saw each other again. People say Wu Xiufen even left her husband and child behind—no one knows where she went.”

Hearing all this, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of sympathy. Who would’ve thought the fall of the Red Mill Factory came with such a heartbreaking story?

“After Wu Xiufang died, that’s when Wu Xiufen and Wu Jianguo found out she’d had a son with her husband for years. Her child was born with deformities, so she never dared let him out in public. Even her siblings didn’t know Wu Xiufang had a son—by the time she died, the kid was already five.”

“A son born with deformities?” I said. “There are all kinds of deformities. Did anyone ever say what exactly it was?”

“Wu Jianguo said he only caught a glimpse of the boy at Wu Xiufang’s funeral. Just from a distance. He couldn’t really see what was wrong. After that, they never saw him again. No one knows what kind of deformity it was. Later, Wu Jianguo and Wu Xiufen regretted everything, because when they sorted Wu Xiufang’s belongings, they realized she’d asked for so much money just to treat her child’s condition.”

You could hear the regret in Xiao Liu’s voice. “Wu Xiufang was always stubborn, never letting anyone see her weaknesses. Maybe that’s why she refused to let her five-year-old son leave the house, and never told anyone the truth. If she had, I bet the family would’ve given her the money.”

After that story, I had no idea what to feel. Something about this still seemed off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Their mother died young, and now their father and sister are dead too,” Xiao Liu said. “No one felt like running the factory anymore. Rumors about this whole scandal spread like wildfire through Wanghu Village. In the end, both surviving siblings left the village, never to meet again. But Wu Jianguo told me he really hopes to see his sister again, just to talk, one last time.”

Xiao Liu sounded tired. “Wu Jianguo’s health is fading. Even just seeing his only family again would let him die in peace.”

I said, “They could still meet, but talking is out of the question now. Just a few hours ago, Wu Xiufen was killed by the murderer.”

“Wu Xiufen was killed?” Xiao Liu asked in disbelief.

“That’s right. By the way, did you ask Wu Jianguo about the story of those twelve bowls? You learned about the Zodiac Bowls from Wu Xiufen, and that’s how you figured out the killer’s plan, right? That he intended to kill off Wu Jianguo’s whole family because their zodiac animals are rooster, dog, and pig.”

Xiao Liu was silent for a moment before he replied, “You caught that, huh? Yeah, I made my guess based on that detail. I did ask. Wu Jianguo said the last batch of bowls was made by Wu Xiufen for Wu Xiufang. Wu Xiufen thought her sister didn’t have children, so she made a set as a gift for her future kids, not realizing Wu Xiufang’s boy was already several years old.”

“Apparently, Wu Xiufang loved those twelve bowls,” Xiao Liu went on. “After she died, her husband took nothing, just left with their son. The factory closed and those bowls were given away with the rest of the ceramics. As for who got them, nobody really knows.”

Suddenly, it struck me—the killer likely wasn’t getting rid of a bowl every time he killed. Maybe he was tracking down every owner of the Zodiac Bowls, killing them, and reclaiming the whole set. Mary mentioned someone online was buying up these bowls, but nobody knew who it was.

And if the killer was an expert with computers, chances are he posted those buying requests himself. The victims might all have been people who tried selling their bowls to him for a high price, only to be killed for it.

A deformed child, a mother’s favorite set of Zodiac Bowls—everything was starting to connect.

I said, “Xiao Liu, did Wu Xiufen ever tell you she married into Xingdong Village? The man she married was clearly not going to live much longer. Maybe she didn’t really love him. Maybe she married him because she was already married back in Wanghu Village—she needed to find a dying husband to keep her residency here.”

Xiao Liu said, “That’s right! But so what? That was decades ago. Wu Xiufen’s husband and son probably think she’s dead now.”

“Find out who Wu Xiufen’s husband and son are!” I said. “She lied to both of us, and Wu Jianguo’s side of the story might not be trustworthy either. And also, find… Wu Xiufang’s husband and son too…”

Just then, another call came through to my phone. It was Mary.

I told Xiao Liu to go, then answered Mary’s call.

“The fourth story has come up.”