Chapter 11 — 8 Million Dividend Does Not Include Me, No One Knows I Own Tens of Millions of Yuan

I pulled it out from the bottom of the bag. It's an old iron box. The box used to hold my lucky money. On the lid of the box is a faded white rabbit. I remember clearly when I opened the box when I was eighteen years old and it was empty inside. Mom said the money was used for household chores. From then on, I never opened this box again. I thought it had been thrown away a long time ago. Unexpectedly still here. The small lock on the box is rusty. I used the spare key hanging next to it to try opening it.

"Clack" sound.

The lid of the box pops off. There was no money inside. There was only a stack of old photos, a few faded envelopes and a very thin blue-covered notebook. I took out the notebook. There is no name on the cover. There is only a small line of text. I recognized that handwriting. It's mother's word. My heart suddenly slowed down. I opened the first page. The paper was a bit brittle. The ink also fades a bit. But the first line still appears very clearly.

"Today Tri Y won first place..."

"Today Tri Y got first place."

I looked at that text for a long time. The handwriting on the page is not good. There are a few places where the ink is still smudged. It's like the writer was in a hurry at that time. Or very emotional. I sat alone in my old room. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the dusty window. Outside in the yard, the sound of workers moving house still rang out from time to time. But now I can't hear anything anymore. In my eyes, I only have the diary in my hand. I slowly continued reading.

"The homeroom teacher called today."

"The teacher said Tri Y was at the top of the whole grade."

"I was also selected to take the city-level exam."

"I'm very happy."

"In the afternoon, I met Mrs. Vuong selling vegetables at the alley, and I even showed it off to her."

"I said my daughter is very good."

My finger stopped. I miss Mrs. Vuong. When I was little, my grandmother often gave me two extra tangerines when my mother bought vegetables. But I don't remember my mother ever showing me off to anyone. In my memory. Every time I take home a certificate of merit. What I received was always very calm words.

"I know."

"Don't be arrogant."

I've never heard my mother say she's proud of me. Not even once. Yet in this notebook. She wrote so much again. I continued to turn to the next page.

"Today, Tri Y brought home the excellent student exam notice."

"It was so fun that I couldn't sleep all night."

"She said she wants to study finance in the future."

"I don't understand what finance is."

"But seeing him smile, I also feel happy."

A drop of water suddenly fell onto the paper. I was startled. It was only when I raised my hand that I discovered it. I don't know when my eyes became red. I took a deep breath. Continue reading. Third page. Fourth page. Fifth page. Each page records very small stories. So small that even I myself had long forgotten.

"Tri Y has a cold today."

"Midnight fever."

"I stayed up until morning."

"Today the school collects tuition fees."

"The house is not rich."

"Fortunately, I got another job sewing clothes."

"Stay up a few more hours tonight."

"Tri Y took the university entrance exam today."

"It pretends to be calm."

"But when I left, I forgot my pen."

"I ran more than half the street to catch up."

All very clumsy. But it's so real that it makes people's hearts ache. I remember high school. There was a time when my mother often stayed up very late. At that time I thought she was watching TV. Now I know. She received handmade garments to make. Every night I earn a few dozen yuan. Save money for me to go to college. I flipped one more another page. The handwriting here is darker than usual. It's like the writer was very hesitant.

"Today, Tri Y received the admission letter."

"It was fun."

"I'm happy too."

"But I don't dare show it."

"I'm afraid it's arrogant."

I smiled bitterly. That's right mom. Even when happy, I don't know how to express it. From small to large. She is always like that. Pay attention but don't say anything. Love but don't show it. They even use harsh words to hide their feelings. I used to think she didn't love me. But now look at these diary pages. I just discovered. Maybe she loves me. Just love in a very awkward way. A way that has been deeply influenced by the older generation. In her thoughts. The son is the heir. The daughter is the one who will get married. So even though you love me. She still unconsciously leaned towards her two brothers. Although proud of me. She always said:

"What's the point of a girl studying so much?"

Even though you love me. She still gives me the least amount of dividends. Because in her world. That's obvious. I closed my eyes. For the first time in many years. I don't feel angry anymore. Just feel sad. Sad for mom. Also sad for myself. If you know how to say it. If I had known sooner. Perhaps a lot of things were different. Suddenly there were footsteps outside the door. The eldest brother stood at the door. He didn't go in. Just looked at me and said softly:

"Mom writes a lot."

"Since the day I found that notebook."

"I was also surprised."

I didn't reply. He was silent for a few seconds then continued.

"When I was in college."

"There was a time when the school asked to pay extra tuition."

"Home was difficult at that time."

"Mom sold a pair of wedding gold bracelets."