After Zhang Ziyu left, Gu Wangshu remained seated on the sofa.
Around her lay a circle of newspapers—some neatly stacked, others already opened and spread across the coffee table, the armrests of the sofa, and even her knees.
There were Ta Kung Pao, Wen Wei Po, as well as Oriental Daily and Sing Pao.
From the daily newspapers of the past month to the slightly older archived issues the butler could find, they covered the entire coffee table.
She believed reading newspapers was the fastest way to understand this era.
The butler, Uncle Liu, was in his fifties, with a lean but energetic build. He wore an impeccably ironed dark gray Tang suit, his hair neatly combed.
He gently placed the last stack of newspapers on the corner of the coffee table and gave a slight bow:
“Young Miss, as per your instructions, the recent ones and the ones in storage are all here. If you need newspapers from earlier times, I’m afraid we’d have to search specifically in secondhand bookstores or libraries. Would you like me to do that?”
Gu Wangshu, flipping through the newspaper in her hand, glanced up and shook her head. “No need, let’s leave it at this for now. Thank you for your trouble, Uncle Liu.”
Her tone was calm and polite, using the respectful “you.”
This subtle form of address made Uncle Liu pause for a moment.
Although the former Gu Xihe had always been kind to the servants, she had never used a respectful form of address with him.
He didn’t ask further, simply nodding. “No trouble at all. If you have any instructions, please feel free to say so.”
Just as Gu Wangshu was about to lower her head and continue reading the newspaper, her hand suddenly paused while flipping through the pages.
Her gaze fell on a real estate advertisement in one section of the newspaper, which featured a photo of Repulse Bay’s seascape—golden sand, turquoise-blue water, and neatly arranged white villas halfway up the hillside.
Repulse Bay.
She looked up at Uncle Liu, who was about to leave, and suddenly spoke. “Uncle Liu, there is something I’d like to ask you.”
Uncle Liu stopped in his tracks and turned around. “Please go ahead, Young Miss.”
Gu Wangshu carefully considered her words.
“I remember… my cousin lived in Repulse Bay before she passed away.”
“Is that house still there?”
Uncle Liu was taken aback.
His gaze lingered on Gu Wangshu’s face for a moment before he quickly regained his composure.
He nodded slightly, lowering his voice a little.
“Yes, it is. After the eldest young lady passed away, her personal belongings were stored in a safe deposit box at HSBC. There are two keys in total—one is with Vice Chairman Ji, and the other is with me.”
“As for the shares under the eldest young lady’s name, they have been held in trust by Vice Chairman Ji all these years. As for the villa in Repulse Bay…”
“The key is with me. Following Mr. Ji’s instructions, I have someone clean it regularly.”
“Vice Chairman Ji?” Gu Wangshu caught another key piece of information and frowned slightly.
“Yes, Mr. Ji Junde,” Uncle Liu replied. “He is currently the vice chairman of Xinda Group.”
Ji Junde.
Gu Wangshu certainly remembered this name. Ji Junde was the most trusted right-hand man of her grandfather, Gu Shiyong.
“I remember that when my cousin passed away, she said her inheritance would be left to my eldest cousin.”
Gu Wangshu said slowly, “Why are these things… still kept like this?”
What she was asking was: Why hasn’t my brother taken over this inheritance?
As soon as this question was asked, Uncle Liu’s expression changed.
He remained silent for a few seconds before speaking slowly.
“It was three years after the eldest young lady passed away that we finally managed to contact the eldest young master.”
Gu Wangshu tightened her grip on the corner of the newspaper in her hand.
“At that time, the eldest young master had just returned to Beijing from Yunnan,” Uncle Liu continued. “We did manage to get in touch with him, but his attitude was very firm.”
“He said…”
Uncle Liu lowered his gaze slightly.
“He said he had never fulfilled a single day of his duty as a grandson, and he could not accept the things the old master had left for the eldest young lady.”
“A few years ago, Mr. Ji made a special trip to Beijing…” Uncle Liu went on.
He shook his head, the helplessness in his tone growing heavier.
“He still couldn’t persuade the eldest young master. Originally, the master wanted to…”
He paused here, as if weighing whether he should continue.
“He was stopped by Mr. Ji.”
“The master” referred to Second Uncle, Gu Bingwen, the current head of Xinda Group.
Ji Junde had stopped him.
The implication behind this, Gu Wangshu could guess without much thought.
Second Uncle had probably wanted to dispose of the unclaimed inheritance in some way, and Ji Junde had stepped in to prevent it.
Whether out of loyalty to Gu Shiyong, or simply due to an old-fashioned businessman’s inherent adherence to rules and principles, he had kept those things intact.
After Gu Wangshu arrived in Hong Kong in 1976, she did not tell her grandfather about her true physical condition.
By the time she later learned that her older brother Gu Xiuyuan was still alive, Gu Shiyong was already critically ill.
Perhaps out of guilt, perhaps out of a desire to make amends, or perhaps simply out of a most basic, elderly stubbornness, he left a portion of the Gu family’s assets to Gu Wangshu and her brother.
This included twenty percent of the shares in Xinda Group.
“Is… is Eldest Cousin doing alright?”
Uncle Liu sighed.
“It was only after Mr. Ji went to Beijing that he learned what had happened back then in Yunnan.”
“Although the eldest young master survived… but… ah.”
“He injured his leg. Given the conditions at the time, medical care was inadequate, and he didn’t receive timely treatment. It left him with a lasting problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
Gu Wangshu’s voice suddenly tightened.
“He walks with a slight limp.”
Gu Wangshu felt her vision blur for a moment.
Her brother had become… a cripple.
Gu Wangshu struggled to control herself.
She bit her lower lip. “I understand. Thank you, Uncle Liu.”
Uncle Liu gave a slight bow and quietly withdrew from the living room.
Gu Wangshu was now alone in the living room.
She no longer had to hold back.
Tears fell, one drop after another.
They landed on the open newspaper, spreading into several dark, watery stains, like ink blooming on rice paper.
She wiped her face roughly with the back of her hand, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.
She repeated this several times until the churning ache in her chest gradually subsided.
Then she picked up the newspaper again.
She saw the rises and falls of the stock market; the name Hang Seng Index still held some familiarity for her.
She saw real estate advertisements—Taikoo Shing, Sha Tin City One—some of these place names were familiar, others were not, but the prices listed made her eyes widen in shock.
She saw the gossip news in the entertainment section, those heavily made-up stars and singers she didn’t recognize at all.
But none of these were what shook her the most.
What truly made her stop was an editorial.
The headline was printed slightly above the center of the newspaper, in bold font two sizes larger than the body text, each character neatly and distinctly etched into her vision—
“Ensuring a Smooth Transition is in the Fundamental Interest of Hong Kong Society”
Smooth transition?
A smooth transition of what?
Her gaze moved downward, reading line by line.
The article mentioned a “Joint Declaration.”
According to this Joint Declaration, the People’s Republic of China would resume the exercise of sovereignty over Hong Kong on July 1, 1997.
Return.
“Aunt Wen? Aunt Wen?”
She hadn’t even realized how loud her own voice was.
Aunt Wen was in the kitchen tidying up the dishes. Hearing the call, she quickly wiped her hands and hurried out.
As soon as she entered the living room, she saw Gu Wangshu sitting on the sofa, her face covered in tears.
Aunt Wen was startled. She rushed over in a few quick steps, wiping Wangshu’s face while anxiously asking, “What’s wrong? Why are you crying like this all of a sudden? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?”
Gu Wangshu wiped her face haphazardly. She raised the newspaper in her hand, pointing at the editorial’s headline:
“Hong Kong is going to return?”
Aunt Wen paused, glanced down at where Wangshu’s finger was pointing, and then let out a sudden “oh” of realization.
“That’s right, it was decided back in ’84—the Sino-British Joint Declaration. The return is set for July 1, 1997.”
She patted Wangshu’s back, her tone tinged with uncertainty. “You’re…”
Gu Wangshu wiped away her tears.
Her face was streaked with tears, but the corners of her mouth were curling upward.
“I’m happy,” she said.
“Happy.”