Volume One, Chapter Two: Who Owns the Red Star Garment Factory?

Sitting in the beef noodle shop next to the hospital, Luo Xuan still couldn’t collect her thoughts. She stared blankly at the little boy before her, whose face resembled Luo Wenbin’s. Suddenly, the boy reached into her bowl with his chopsticks and took all the few thin, translucent slices of beef. The woman—Luo Xuan couldn’t bring herself to say “Dad’s mistress”—paid no attention to the boy’s actions.

Pressing a tissue against her eyes, she said, “Sister, Xiaobao is Wenbin’s only son. Before he died, Wenbin said that it’s better to give his factory to his nephew than to outsiders, but better to give it to his own son than to his nephew.” She emphasized the word “only.”

Lin Zhaodi said nothing, eating most of her bowl of noodles before setting down her chopsticks and looking up. “Did Luo Wenbin really say that?”

Before the woman could answer, Lin Zhaodi nodded, “That sounds exactly like something he would say.”

Hearing Lin Zhaodi’s approval, the woman breathed a sigh of relief. Lin Zhaodi then lowered her head and ate again, resolutely and fiercely rolling the noodles with her chopsticks and stuffing them into her mouth.

After a while, she said, “You know the situation now. Although Wenbin’s will has been made, his mother favors his elder brother and will definitely sue us. Fortunately, now our family has a son—”

Luo Qi handed a tissue to the boy. “Say ‘Sister.’”

The boy took it. “Sister, you’re my good nanny.”

“Who told you to say that?!” The young woman panicked and immediately slapped him.

The boy wailed loudly, “You said it—you said sister is my nanny—”

Luo Qi comforted the woman, “It’s okay; boys are mischievous, that’s normal.” She pushed a cup of water on the table toward the boy. “Little brother, your throat is hoarse.”

“No!” The boy waved his hand and knocked over the cup, water spilling all over the table.

Luo Xuan reached out to steady the cup, furrowing her brows and glaring intently at the boy. After a few seconds, the boy’s eyes began to avoid her gaze, and his crying quieted.

“Don’t be like that!” Luo Qi hit Luo Xuan lightly and frowned, “He’s our precious little brother!”

“Are you—” In front of outsiders, Luo Xuan finally swallowed the words “brain wrapped in foot-binding cloth.”

Amid the chaotic atmosphere, Lin Zhaodi, seemingly unaware, tore open a steaming hot pancake with her bare hands, inviting everyone to take a piece. Then she told the mother and child, “Rest well today and gather your strength. Tomorrow, I’ll take Xiaobao to see the matriarch, so his mother can see that the Luo family has more than one golden grandson.”

Luo Xuan pulled her hand back, burned by the hot pancake, and looked at the woman holding the boy.

The woman was wiping water off the boy and eagerly agreed to the plan.

Lin Zhaodi nodded and paid the breakfast bill, instructing Luo Xuan to book a hotel for the mother and son.

“The most expensive one,” Lin Zhaodi told Luo Xuan.

The woman holding the boy nodded without hesitation. “Your little brother deserves the best.”

…

Leaving the most expensive hotel in Luosang County, the three—mother and daughters—sat in the car in complete silence.

Luo Xuan broke the silence. “Mom, I don’t understand.”

Lin Zhaodi said nothing.

After a few seconds, Luo Qi explained, “It’s exactly as you saw. Dad had several other families outside. This one even has a son, five years old.”

The weight of this information overwhelmed Luo Xuan. “Several other families? This one? Has a son?”

Luo Qi looked at her patiently, then turned her head toward the window, her tone cool. “You’ll always be like this, knowing nothing.”

Luo Xuan said, “I was sent to boarding school by Mom since I was little, went to university outside, and worked in Shanghai—if you don’t tell me, how am I supposed to know?!”

Lin Zhaodi cast a faint glance at her daughter but said nothing.

Luo Qi sneered, “You said it yourself—you were outside. What good would it do to tell you?”

The mother and younger sister in the back seat began speaking quietly to each other. Luo Xuan strained to listen, but their voices were too low to catch. As they spoke, their heads leaned together, hands covering their mouths.

Luo Xuan felt stifled.

Here it was again—Mom and sister always had so much to talk about, making her feel like an outsider.

She gripped the steering wheel and glanced in the rearview mirror.

Lin Zhaodi and Luo Qi sat side by side, both with large eyes, pointed chins, and oval faces. Especially Luo Qi, who inherited her mother’s exquisite beauty, earning the childhood nickname “Miss Luo.”

Luo Xuan looked at herself again—round face, round eyes, round mouth, with short, sparse eyebrows. Caught between the cool, elegant eldest sister and the striking, glamorous youngest sister, the best compliment she ever received was “simple and cheerful.”

She thought, feeling a bit downhearted, that the eldest resembled Dad, the youngest resembled Mom. Only she, the middle child, looked like Grandma.

When Mom gave birth to Luo Qi, Grandma heard it was another girl and, in the yard, tied up a chicken and called Luo Xuan over. With a heavy shovel, she chopped down, severing the chicken’s body and tendons, crushing them into bloody mush, hacking and shouting, “You little brat, come here! Do you dare? Do you dare?!”

Chicken blood splattered everywhere, staining Grandma’s crazed, grimacing face. Although only three years old, Luo Xuan was terrified and remembered it vividly.

She sighed. Why did she have to look like Grandma?! A screw wedged between two precious jade pieces, with a face doomed never to be favored by her own mother.

Just then, the mother and daughter finished their conversation and straightened up.

Seizing the moment, Luo Xuan spoke. “Mom, we can’t acknowledge that son, because—”

Lin Zhaodi cut her off. “We’ve decided to cremate your father tonight.”

No preamble, no warning, no explanation—this decision struck Luo Xuan’s face like a hammer.

She instinctively said, “Ah?”

Lin Zhaodi snapped, “Look at that dumbI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.