Chapter 3 The Cursed Family
A sharp pain stabbed through my heart.
Chen family’s younger sister probably isn’t completely mad—she must have moments of clarity. Otherwise, she wouldn’t keep carving the word “Mom” over and over again.
Maybe right now, she’s in some hospital waiting for her brother to earn money to treat her illness.
Chen Chengwu works tirelessly delivering takeout, earning a decent amount each month, yet I never see him spend any money.
The most reasonable explanation is that he’s saving up to pay for his sister’s treatment.
There was nothing special left in the servant’s quarters, so I went to check the main room.
Chen Chengwu’s room was covered in dust.
Apart from an old, worn-out writing desk, there was no other furniture.
I tried to open the drawer, but the desk was so old and broken that it just fell apart.
That revealed a loose brick in the wall behind it.
I pried out the brick and found a small package wrapped in oily paper.
Inside was a yellowed family photo: a young couple sat side by side on a chair—the man’s face was scratched and unrecognizable.
On each side of the chair sat two little boys, who looked exactly alike.
The woman in the photo smiled gently, holding a tiny girl in her arms.
On the back of the photo was a child’s handwriting: “Mom, when I grow up, I’ll take my little sister to find you.”
This family photo was all I found in Chen Chengwu’s room.
How could I find that legendary girl, who was said to be dead, with only a photo from when she was less than a year old?
I felt utterly dejected and exhausted.
Silently, I muttered to myself, “Chen Chengwu, it’s not that your sister won’t help you—I just can’t find the little sister you care about the most.”
I came with hope but left disappointed.
Apart from easing some guilt in my heart, this trip was basically a complete loss.
When I finally got home, it was already completely dark.
The windows on my second and third floors were all lit up.
Looks like my tenants have all returned home safely from work.
Wait—why is the light on in the leftmost window on the second floor?
Did I forget to turn it off when I left?
I hurried upstairs and suddenly came face to face with someone.
The person was wrapped in a trench coat and looked vaguely familiar.
When our eyes met, I screamed, “Ah—ghost!”
It was none other than Chen Chengwu!
Ms. Zhao from the middle apartment on the second floor opened her door and laughed, “Scared, huh? Old Chen didn’t make it through the hospital, but he resurrected at the funeral home.”
“Surprised? Shocked?”
No way.
The clothes I dressed him in—with corpse spots—how could he come back to life?