Read Novel Full Chapter 303: That's My Mother's Handwriting
Chapter 303: That's My Mother's Handwriting
Two people stood under the bicycle shelter, not going into the room in the courtyard.
Shen Zhixia walked past them, hugging the blue cloth bundle. The contents were hard underneath; the corners of four notebooks pushed the cloth up into four square shapes. He Xiufen walked behind her, carrying a plastic bag containing the two-page original will, two photocopied pages, and four reconciliation tally sheets.
"It's cold out here." He Xiufen paused.
"You two go in first." Jiang Guifang rolled the sleeve protectors up her cotton jacket sleeves another fold. "We're waiting for Director Xu."
Kang Youxing said nothing. Both hands gripped the plastic document folder, its corners already frayed from handling. Wind cut through from the far end of the shelter, pressing his pant legs flat against his shins.
He Xiufen didn't press further and went inside.
The mediation room was at the east end of the courtyard, probably a storage room in some earlier life. The walls had been whitewashed twice, but the lower half was still gray. An old conference table had been pieced together, and near the door sat a burn mark, black and glossy. Four long benches, two on this side, two across the way. Under the window ran a radiator, and spread across it was a pair of woolen gloves, left behind by someone. On the wall hung a glass frame: "People's Mediation Committee Work Regulations," its paper edges yellowed. To the right of the frame was pasted a name list, seven people, Xu Qichang first.
"Put the cloth bundle on the table," He Xiufen said. "Don't let go of the notebooks."
"I know."
"Once we're inside, if I look at you, then speak. If I'm not looking at you, just sit there."
"Got it."
At 9:29, Xu Qichang came in. He first moved a stack of People's Mediation Records to his left, set out five paper cups, counted them one by one, and looked up at the fifth.
"What about the two outside?"
"Standing under the shelter," He Xiufen said.
Xu Qichang stepped out. When he came back, Kang Youxing and Jiang Guifang followed him in. Kang Youxing looked at the table first—at the arrangement of the stacks of paper, then at the two benches on the opposite side. When he sat down, he braced his hand against the table edge first.
"My name's Xu Qichang, from the Jianping Subdistrict Mediation Committee. I'm running today's session." He uncapped his pen. "Three things first. One: this has to be voluntary. Anyone who doesn't want to be here can stand up and leave right now. No step of this process is wasted. Two: mediation is free. Three: if we reach an agreement, it takes effect once you sign—it's not a court judgment, but it counts."
"Counts?" Jiang Guifang said.
"Counts. If someone signs and refuses to honor it, the other party can take it to court."
"And what if we don't reach an agreement today?"
"If we don't, I issue a Notice of Failed Mediation, and you go to court if that's what you want." Xu Qichang laid out three things: a mediation application form, a blank sheet of paper, and a pen. "First, verify identities. Kang Wenying, sixty-three?"
"Sixty-three." Kang Wenying answered softly.
"Kang Youxing, sixty-one. Jiang Guifang, fifty-eight."
"Yes," Jiang Guifang said.
He Xiufen slid the Power of Attorney across. Xu Qichang read it twice—the authorized matters, the signature at the bottom, and finally the date.
"I'll keep a photocopy of this." He squared the pages and pressed them under the record book. "Lawyer He, you came alone today?"
"She's with me." He Xiufen tilted her head toward Shen Zhixia. "Same firm. She's accompanying me."
"Signed on the Power of Attorney too?"
"Signed."
"The two of them sit on one side, and the two lawyers sit with them," Jiang Guifang said.
"You can bring someone too, if you have a Power of Attorney," Xu Qichang said. "Didn't bring one today? Bring one tomorrow. Want to adjourn for a day so you can get one?"
"We haven't hired anyone." Jiang Guifang said. "We don't have that kind of money."
"Then we sit as we are." Xu Qichang set pen to paper. "Kang Wenying, you speak first."
Kang Wenying rested both hands on her knees. She had changed into a dark coat today, her hair pinned back behind one ear with a black clip.
"My mother wrote this on January 28, 2025," she said. "Two pages. She wrote it herself, signed it herself. The old house goes to me. The two boxes of paintings in the inner room, one box each."
"When did she pass?"
"October fourth."
"What do you want the mediation committee to do for you?"
"I want my brother to acknowledge this paper."
Xu Qichang wrote it down, stroke by stroke, then looked up at the other side.
"Kang Youxing."
"I don't acknowledge it." The three words came out fast. When he finished, he pressed his palm against the table edge. "In her last two years, my mother couldn't even recognize people. She was on medication—several kinds a day, plus sleeping pills at night. The pills made her confused. What she wrote while confused, I don't acknowledge."
Xu Qichang didn't look up; his pen moved across the paper.
"You're saying that when she wrote these two pages, she wasn't clear-headed."
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
"When did she start taking medication? How many pills a day? What was she like after taking them?"
Kang Youxing's hand pressed against the table edge once, then released.
"Took them for years," he said. "The medication was managed by the women in the family. How would I know how many pills."
"The pills were counted by your sister," He Xiufen said. This was the first time she'd answered him, her voice low.
"She counted them, so her word goes," Jiang Guifang said. "Lawyer He, you're clutching that stack of paper, asking question after question, just steering it where you want."
"I brought four notebooks today," He Xiufen said.
"Notebooks." Jiang Guifang gave a short laugh. "What do notebooks prove."
Xu Qichang wrote that down too, and when he finished, read it aloud: "Kang Youxing maintains that his mother was not of sound mind when making the will, that medication was handled by his sister, and that he himself was not aware of the details."
"Why write that down," Kang Youxing said.
"I'm recording what you said," Xu Qichang said. "You'll sign it in a bit."
Shen Zhixia rested her pen on her knee. In her pocket was a slip of paper with a line copied from January 28, 2025: Morning, one blood pressure pill; evening, half a sleeping pill; blood pressure 132/80. The writing was small, and her hand had shaken slightly when she copied it. The slip was still in her pocket now; she hadn't taken it out.
After ten o'clock, He Xiufen stood, placed the blue cloth bundle on the desk, and untied the knot.
Four notebooks stacked, hard covers, corners worn soft. She pulled out the fifth one, opened it, found the page, and pushed it toward the middle of the table. Then she took the two-page will from the plastic bag, laid it beside the notebook, and smoothed the paper edges flat with her hand. The signature faced upward: January 28, 2025, with the name "Feng Wenzhen" beneath it.
Two inches separated the two items.
When she was done, she sat back down, picked up a paper cup, and took a sip.
The room went quiet. The radiator made a sound—water moving inside.
"Lawyer He," Xu Qichang said. "What are these two things."
"One is the will. Two pages. Original." He Xiufen said. "The other is her mother's notebook. From January 2023 to September 30th of this year, one line a day. I brought four of them today."
"Is this an appraisal?"
"No," she said. "I don't do appraisals. I'm simply laying the two things side by side."
Xu Qichang studied the two items and nudged the record book half an inch forward.
"Originals don't get passed around," he said. "They stay on the table. Anyone who wants a look can stand up and look."
Jiang Guifang stood first. She leaned over, hands braced on the table edge.
"Morning, one blood pressure pill." She read slowly. "Evening, half a sleeping pill. One thirty-two, eighty."
She turned a page, then another, flipping to the blank pages at the back.
"One line a day." She straightened. "What does this prove."
"It proves how much medication she took that day," He Xiufen said.
"She wrote it herself, so of course she'd write it low," Jiang Guifang said. "Besides, that bundle of stuff was pulled out of the house by you people. Who knows what got added."
"On the morning of December 4, your husband's sister dragged it out from under the dish cupboard herself. The three of us were present." He Xiufen said. "Zhixia wrote a line in the notebook on the spot, and she signed it: the date, the time, where it came from, how many notebooks, who was there. If you want to see that line, I'll turn to it now."
Jiang Guifang's lips moved but no words came.
"Whether the handwriting is hers—I don't need to ask myself," He Xiufen said. "I'll ask him."
She raised her eyes and glanced toward Shen Zhixia.
Shen Zhixia set down her pen and stood.
"January 27, 2025." She read aloud. "That day's entry ends, and below it, four extra words: 'Wrote half.' January 28: morning, one blood pressure pill; evening, half a sleeping pill; blood pressure 132/80—and below it, eight extra words: 'Wrote all evening, slept well.' January 29, below it, three words: 'Finished writing.'"
When she finished, she turned the notebook around so the lines faced the two benches across the table.
"Half a pill a day," she said. "The next day, her blood pressure hadn't gone up, and she could still write an entry herself."
Kang Youxing didn't stand. He sat, leaning back slightly, eyes fixed on the open notebook on the table.
"Those two nights." Xu Qichang asked Kang Wenying. "What do you remember?"
"I was in the outer room making dumplings." Kang Wenying said. "The light in the inner room stayed on past midnight. On New Year's morning, I went in, and she said she'd slept well the night before."
"Did you hear her writing?"
"No. The floor in the room is brick, and she'd put cloth pads under the chair legs."
Xu Qichang wrote that down. Kang Youxing reached over and picked up the notebook.
He held it steady, both hands supporting the hard cover. He looked for a moment, then brought it half an inch closer to his face, then away again.
He flipped to the front, paged back, turned to February, then back to early January. His finger pressed on one line and traced over it once, then again.
"She wrote 'sleeping,'" he said suddenly.
Xu Qichang's pen stopped on the paper.
"She doesn't write the word 'pill.'" Kang Youxing said. "She's written it that way these last two or three years. I told her to write it out full so other people could understand, and she said as long as she could understand it herself, that was enough."
He set the notebook back on the table, very gently.
"This is my mother's handwriting."
Jiang Guifang tugged at him from the side. "What are you acknowledging that for."
He didn't turn around.
Xu Qichang read the line aloud. "Kang Youxing, you say the handwriting in this notebook is your mother's."
"Yes."
"I'll put that in the record. Sign your name."
"Write it," Kang Youxing said.
He Xiufen didn't say a word. She nudged the will half an inch forward, then nudged the notebook half an inch forward too, so the two lay closer, paper edge touching paper edge.
[Thud. The handwriting is acknowledged. The grave is still on the slope.]
Someone pushed a bicycle past the window outside, the bell ringing twice, the sound carrying from the courtyard all the way to the mouth of the lane.
"Then what about my father's grave."
Kang Youxing said this with his head still lowered.
Xu Qichang's pen stopped on the paper, then lifted.
"Grave?" he said.
"The road construction back home runs along the foot of the slope." Kang Youxing said. "The village posted a notice at the village entrance in June. The graves have to be moved before next spring. I want to put both elders in one plot. Joint burial."
"And the money?"
"I haven't scraped enough together."
Kang Wenying raised her head and looked at him.
"I want to go up there too," she said. "I haven't been up the slope in ten years. My legs are bad, and I get carsick."
Kang Youxing didn't look at her.
He Xiufen set her paper cup down; the bottom tapped against the table.
"The grave matter is not for today," she said. "Today, we record what today is about."
"And the house?" Jiang Guifang said.
"The house—he acknowledged the handwriting today. What's left is procedure." He Xiufen said. "Procedure takes running around. It can be done."
Jiang Guifang picked up her paper cup and took a sip. The water had gone cold.
Xu Qichang read the record aloud—four items, read slowly: One, Kang Wenying requests that inheritance proceed according to the self-written will. Two, Kang Youxing disputes the authenticity of the will, contending that his mother was not of sound mind when making it. Three, upon verification, Kang Youxing confirms that the handwriting in the fifth medication log notebook is that of his mother, Feng Wenzhen, written by her own hand. Four, both parties agree to continue mediation on December 8 at 9:30 a.m.
"Sign."
Kang Wenying signed in the first box, writing slowly, and examined it after. Kang Youxing signed in the second box, set the pen down, and pressed his finger on his own name.
"Will you sign too?" Xu Qichang asked Jiang Guifang.
Jiang Guifang turned the record book around, gave it a look, and pushed it back.
"I won't sign."
"Attendees who came along don't have to sign," Xu Qichang said. "Coming tomorrow?"
"Yes."
Xu Qichang squared the pages and pressed them into the record book.
"Tomorrow, 9:30, same room," he said. "Next time, we talk about money, not handwriting."
[Thud. The words came down, and the tabletop cleared.]
In the courtyard, half a patch of shade still lingered under the bicycle shelter.
Kang Youxing stood in that half-shadow, not leaving. Jiang Guifang had already taken a few steps toward the courtyard gate; she turned back and saw him still standing there.
He Xiufen switched the plastic bag to her left hand and walked over.
"Come early tomorrow," she said. "Two bus rides. Take your time on the road."
"Lawyer He." Kang Youxing said. "That notebook—could I borrow it for a look?"
"The originals don't leave my hands."
"Just a look."
"I'll make you a photocopy of one page," He Xiufen said. "The page you looked at today."
Kang Youxing's hand brushed over the document folder.
"Not that page."
"Which page, then."
He stood there thinking. The wind lifted a corner of the plastic sheeting on the shelter and let it drop.
"...Any page."
"I'll bring two notebooks for you tomorrow," He Xiufen said. "When you're done, return them to me. I'll watch you put them back."
"Fine," he said.
Jiang Guifang called from the courtyard gate. "Are you coming or not?"
"Coming." He answered, but his feet didn't move. He stood a moment longer before leaving.
Shen Zhixia tied the cloth bundle and took it in her hand. The four reconciliation tally sheets had sat untouched in the plastic bag all day, the paper corners creasing lines into the plastic.
"Tomorrow we talk money. Who speaks first?"
"Him," He Xiufen said.
"And if he doesn't speak."
"He already spoke once today." He Xiufen pulled her scarf up a little. "Once a person has said the hardest sentence out loud, the second time isn't hard."
"And what if we settle tomorrow."
"Tomorrow money, day after signatures." He Xiufen walked toward the courtyard gate. "Once it's signed, this case of mine is closed."
Wind poured in from the mouth of the lane, shoving two fallen leaves across the courtyard a few steps until they came to rest in front of an overturned dustpan.