Chapter 279 The Grand Finale
Shen Cuifen suddenly stopped, looked down at the plastic bag in her hand, her lips moved, and she said softly, "Mom... in a divorce, there has to be a division of property. Legally... there are regulations on that."
Song Yu'an did not answer.
She didn't stop walking, carrying the chicken in her hand, and continued walking forward.
She didn't mention that the Zhou family owned a piece of land, an ancestral homestead, which was worth a lot of money; they also had a small processing plant, which, although small, generated income every month; and a house in this village, with the property rights registered in Zhou Dajun's name.
These are all marital property.
She held it in, not in a hurry.
She knew that the child was still confused, still attached to the past, and still felt that he had let Zhou Dajun down.
Once the child sees things clearly, her heart grows cold, and she fully understands that that home is not worth her lingering in, then peel back the layers of this facade and lay the truth bare before her, inch by inch.
On my way home, the sky was a cloudless blue, and the sunlight shone brightly on the concrete road.
Shen Cuifen frowned and softly reminded Song Yu'an, "Did you forget to say something?"
Song Yu'an remained silent.
He lowered his head, his fingers unconsciously stroking the rim of the teacup, his eyes slightly vacant.
In fact, he had been hiding a piece of land, a small factory, and this old but sturdy house under the Zhou family's name.
These things were all secretly transferred and registered under the names of people he trusted in his early years.
He wasn't afraid that the Zhou family would actually find out—those people were too busy fighting for power to bother with old grievances.
But he couldn't help worrying that if Xiao Shui accidentally spilled all the secrets tomorrow, those relatives, who were like hungry wolves, would cause a huge uproar.
Once they smell the scent of profit, they will swarm around like vultures pouncing on their prey, clinging on relentlessly.
He didn't really think much about Shen Cuifen's worries.
She sat to the side, her brows slightly furrowed, her voice low: "If you keep this a secret, it will be found out sooner or later."
Song Yu'an simply shook his head slightly, offering no further explanation.
He knew she meant well, but people can be treacherous, and some things shouldn't be said too explicitly.
He took her hand in his; his palm was slightly cool, but he gripped it tightly, then gently patted it twice, his movements as tender as if he were soothing a frightened child.
“You are truly cultured, thoughtful, and far-sighted. My mother never went to school and could barely read a few characters; she would never have thought of such complicated matters.”
When he said this, his tone carried a hint of emotion, as well as a subtle respect.
In his past life, he got divorced and left nothing behind; he was kicked out of the house without even knowing why.
At that time, he naively believed that as long as he did his job honestly, his family would treat him well.
And what was the result?
His wife ran off with all his savings, and the Zhou family turned their backs on him, even taking back the house he lived in, leaving him with nowhere to go.
In the dead of winter, he dragged his luggage and wandered the streets like an abandoned dog.
He must never repeat the same mistake in his life.
He could no longer allow himself to fall into that situation where he was at the mercy of others.
Fortunately, Shen Cuifen was by my side.
She doesn't compete or fight for anything, yet she always manages to remind and support him at crucial moments.
She was the only light that brought him warmth in this chaotic darkness.
He thought for a moment, then suddenly looked up at her, his eyes filled with hesitation and probing, and asked in a low voice:
"Do you think... Zhou Dajun and Xiao Shui might also be afraid that you'll take away their family fortune?"
As soon as he said those words, he felt a little heavy-hearted.
But he had to ask.
Shen Cuifen bit her lip, her brows furrowed into a tight knot, as if she were enduring immense humiliation and injustice.
"Even if they starve to death on the roadside, I won't take a single hair from them!"
Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was firm and resolute, carrying a stubborn coolness.
She was not a greedy person, and she disdained to fight for any inheritance.
She just wanted to live a peaceful life, owing no one anything and not being a burden to anyone.
Song Yu'an was stunned for a moment, then suddenly realized—
They weren't even married, so they weren't legally husband and wife. Where did Zhou Dajun's assets come from that she could take away?
The business license of that appliance store clearly states the name of Zhou Dajun's aunt, and it has absolutely nothing to do with him.
Xiao Shui's family had been on guard against Zhou Dajun from the very beginning.
They helped their son get married, but didn't give him a single penny of property, and didn't even put his name on the shop.
This clearly shows they don't trust him and are afraid he'll embezzle the family's money in the future.
Since that's the case, Song Yu'an suddenly remembered that Xiao Shui's family was actually quite wealthy.
That old house in the city is in a prime location, and the surrounding property prices have already increased several times over.
With her fiery and domineering temper, as soon as I left, she would definitely have spread the news about the house everywhere, wishing the whole city would know that the Zhou family's daughter-in-law had been bullied and driven away.
But that's where the problem lies—
The house in the city was nominally rented, but in reality, Song Yu'an bought it with his own money and registered it under someone else's name.
If the Zhou family finds out the truth, they will definitely make a fuss and find an excuse to stay here.
Once they move in, it's like they've taken root; you can't get rid of them no matter what.
At that time, the house will be noisy and chaotic, and Shen Cuifen will not be able to have any peace.
Seeing his furrowed brows and uncertain expression, Shen Cuifen knew this was a difficult matter, and her heart sank.
But she didn't say anything, she just looked at him quietly, waiting for him to make a decision.
But then Song Yu'an suddenly smiled.
The smile came abruptly, yet it carried a sense of sudden enlightenment and ease.
"What kind of nonsense is this? Move it!"
He said his voice was decisive and powerful, as if he had made a firm decision.
"Let's go pick out a new house now."
He stood up, reached out and pulled her, his eyes bright and determined.
Since we can't avoid the storm, we might as well change locations and start over.
New house, new life, away from these troublesome people.
Zhou Anguo was interrogated for more than ten days, but he stubbornly refused to admit anything.
He sat in the interrogation room, his face pale, but his eyes still gloomy.
No matter how the police questioned him, he remained silent, only saying, "I didn't kill anyone, you've arrested the wrong person."
He hired a top-notch lawyer, impeccably dressed and sharp-tongued, who argued vehemently with the police, repeatedly emphasizing the lack of sufficient evidence and procedural irregularities.
The lawyer was eloquent and spent several days trying to persuade the police to get Zhou Anguo out of jail.
Zhou Dajun wasn't so lucky.
On the day he was arrested, a voice recorder was found in his pocket.
That pen clearly recorded the content of his last argument with Xiaoshui.
He confessed to the entire process of how he lost control due to jealousy and stabbed her with a knife.
Every detail, every scream, has been preserved intact.
This isn't evidence at all.
This is irrefutable evidence!
The police officers' expressions immediately changed, and they promptly took him into the interrogation room.
Faced with the playback of the recording, Zhou Dajun turned pale and couldn't say a word. He could only slump in his chair and tremble.
Zhou Anguo, on the other hand, immediately grinned after hearing the recording relayed by the police and admitted it without hesitation:
"Yes, I did it. I killed the man, and I handed him the knife."
He leaned back in his chair, looking smug, even a little sarcastic.
"You want evidence? I remember all of Chen Xiaoshui's drug dealers by name, I've written them all down one by one. Go ask them, none of them will escape."
He paused, then his grin widened, revealing a set of yellowed teeth:
"I did this to uphold justice and even turned down a family member to help you catch the real culprit. Shouldn't you give me some credit for that?"
After taking his statement, the police officer got up and left without even giving him a second glance.
The prison guards quickly came over, and with a clanging sound, roughly dragged him off the chair.
"You can't just abandon me after I've served my purpose! My lawyer won't stand for it! I'm going to appeal! I've done so much for you!"
Zhou Anguo was still roaring, his voice echoing in the corridor, filled with resentment and madness.
But nobody paid him any attention.
The police ignored him and immediately launched an investigation.
Based on the name he gave, the police followed the clues and launched an operation overnight.
The case of Chen Xiaoshui's murder was solved easily.
Three years later, Song Yu'an received an outstanding enterprise award from the government.
The sun was shining brightly that day. She was wearing a well-tailored suit and stood on the stage to accept the heavy trophy. The audience applauded enthusiastically.
I had just carefully placed the certificate into the specially made glass cabinet in the office, and before I could even wipe the dust off my fingertips, the phone on the desk rang.
The ringing was urgent and cold, like the knocking of some kind of fate.
She frowned and answered the phone.
A deep voice came from the other end of the phone, saying only a few words—"Zhou Nuli suffered a cerebral hemorrhage, and it was too late to save him; he's gone."
Her fingers froze in mid-air, and the receiver almost slipped from her grasp.
After a few seconds of silence, she whispered, "I understand," and then hung up the phone.
She locked the office door, packed a few clothes, and boarded the long-distance bus home.
Along the way, the scenery outside the window flew by, but her eyes remained as calm as deep water, without any ripples.
Going back is not for sorrow, but to put an end to it.
The Zhou family ancestral graves were moved to a so-called auspicious burial site, with high mountains and dense forests, which is said to ensure the family's prosperity.
But now, as far as the eye can see, the area is still overgrown with weeds, wild vines cling to the stone railings, and the tombstones are mostly swallowed up by the rampant weeds, making it almost impossible to recognize the names.
The wind rustled through the air, making a soft, whispering sound, like a sigh that no one was listening to.
Song Yu'an stood before the grave, dressed in black, his long hair tied back, his expression serene.
She looked at each name one by one, her gaze lingering on each tombstone for a moment, as if taking stock of past grievances.
Finally, she spoke softly, her tone as indifferent as if she were stating something unrelated to herself:
"Your family is finally reunited. You fought for power and profit in life, but now you can quietly squeeze together in the afterlife. Keep arguing in the underworld, I'm done with it."
She paused, her voice lowering slightly but becoming even more resolute: "I will never set foot in that place again in my life. And don't even think about me. I have repaid the suffering you caused me. From now on, we owe each other nothing."
She gripped the prayer beads on her wrist tightly; they were a string of dark brown sandalwood beads, each one polished smooth and shiny from being rubbed.
She twisted the grains one by one, her movements slow and focused, as if she were turning the gears of fate.
Then, she closed her eyes, parted her lips slightly, and began to recite the scriptures for salvation in a low voice.
The voice was so soft it was almost carried away by the wind, yet every word was clear, carrying a sense of relief and compassion.
Not for them, but for myself who was once wounded and scarred.
An old house?
No, I don't want it anymore.
She wanted nothing more than that old house that had once witnessed humiliation and indifference, along with those moldy memories.
Before leaving, she handed the house deed to the village chief and said only one sentence: "You handle it as you see fit, just don't let me see it again."
She will never look back in this lifetime.
It's not that I'm heartless, but that I've finally come to understand that leaving some people and some places behind is the true liberation.
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