Having become rich, I excitedly announced in public that I planned to build a mountaintop villa on the foundation of the old house.

However, as I began the construction, my father, Martin, threatened me with death, insisting that I must not stop.

Being willful since childhood, I had no intention of yielding.

Unable to persuade me, he finally yelled, "You bastard! That's your mother down there!"

I was stunned. My mother, Iris? Didn't my mother run away 20 years ago because our family was poor?

"Your mother committed suicide by jumping into a well," said my mother.

Everyone present believed it, but I knew my father was lying because 20 years ago, my mother and I had a secret, a secret known only to the two of us.

After ten years of hard work, I achieved wealth.

During over a decade of struggling in a foreign land, it wasn't the desire to bring honor to my family that propelled me forward. Instead, it was an incident from the past that had haunted my thoughts for 20 years.

This incident was the underlying reason for my reluctance to return to the village for ten years, and it was also the heart-wrenching pain that continued to haunt me in my midnight dreams.

But I had achieved success.

Those hidden pains were greatly alleviated by the success of my career, and I decided to get back everything I had lost over the years.

On Christmas, I dressed up and returned to the village. The villagers warmly welcomed me, creating an atmosphere that made it seem like I was returning home in triumph and glory.

But I neither went back to the new house I built for my father nor went to visit my aunt and uncles.

Instead, I went directly to the dilapidated old house halfway up the mountain because deep down, I saw this place as my only home.

Upon my arrival at the old house, I presented gifts and graciously entertained the villagers. With deliberate intent, I made a grand announcement in front of the entire village, declaring my plans to construct a luxurious mountaintop villa on the very foundation of the old house.

The villagers were well aware of my success, and those who had previously looked down upon me now greeted me with flattering smiles.

Observing that the atmosphere was ripe, I promptly grabbed the rusty hoe from the corner. With determination, I prepared to dig the first piece of this highly anticipated project right in front of the doorway.

Unexpectedly, my drunkard father suddenly emerged from the crowd, forcefully grabbing the hoe from my hand and loudly halting me, "Don't dig!"

Having grown accustomed to my father's unreasonable behavior, I asked impatiently, "Why?"

"You... You just can't do it!"

My father had always been adept at making baseless arguments, but this was the first time I had seen him blushing and speaking incoherently.

I had been fighting with him for half my life, and I had never seen him so panicked.

At this moment, I was not in a hurry. I let go of the tools, looked at him with a playful look, and sneered, "This house has been empty for more than ten years. Why can't I do it?"

However, being arrogant all the time, my father quickly came up with a plausible reason. He responded with a domineering tone, "This house was left to his children by your grandfather. Who are you do alter it?"

Upon hearing that, I understood instantly. It seemed that my father stopped me for the sake of the benefits of him and his siblings!

So I softened my tone and negotiated, "You're right! I didn't think it through. Then you can talk to my uncles and aunts and I want to buy the house at the market price. Does that work?"

I thought I could finally start the work, but my dad still insisted, "No! We won't sell this house!"

After hearing this, I completely realized that my father was deliberately making things difficult for me.

However, I had been impulsive and undisciplined since childhood, and I had never gotten along with my father. After being embarrassed by him in public, I felt that I had to dig it out.

My face turned grim. Ignoring him, I just focused on digging hard at his feet with the hoe.

This time, he was completely panicked.

Frustrated by his inability to restrain me, he shouted, "You bastard! That's your mother down there!"

As soon as he uttered those words, the hoe in my hand, which I had been swinging vigorously just moments before, appeared to be enchanted and remained suspended in mid-air, defying my attempts to bring it down!

I couldn't believe my ears!

My mom? Didn't my mom run away 20 years ago because our family was poor?

With a lot of doubt, I asked, "Why is my mother down here?"

While I was shocked, my father immediately adopted a scoundrel look, dusted himself off, and sat lazily on the high wooden threshold of the old house. "She committed suicide by jumping into the well," he said disdainfully.

Upon hearing that, I was furious and yelled at him in front of everyone, "Didn't you always say that my mother ran away because of our family's poverty? How come now she committed suicide? Which of your words is true?"

My dad retorted, "I said that because I was afraid that you were too young to accept it!"

I didn't know how to respond, so I asked doubtfully, "Why not bury her in the tomb in the back mountain?"

Unexpectedly, my father gnashed his teeth and said angrily, "She didn't deserve it!"

These three words immediately ignited a fury within me. I yelled, "But you couldn't bury her under this high threshold! Are you going to let her be trampled by countless people? Do you hate my mother so much that you let me step on her? What's in it for you?"

"This is the rule! Women who commit suicide deserve this punishment!" my father shouted.

"Rule? Where do this rule come from? Who made it?" I asked angrily.

Unexpectedly, my father answered with even greater arrogance than I had displayed. "This is the rule of our family! It has been established by our ancestors for generations!"

Knowing I couldn't argue with him, I gave up and asked, "Why did my mother jump into the well?"

Seeing that his dominating presence had overwhelmed me, my father proceeded with a seemingly fearless demeanor and impatience, stating, "I've already explained it to you. She simply didn't want to continue living, so she killed herself."

"Impossible!" I almost shouted these three words to my father.

Despite his apparent certainty, I knew he was lying because 20 years ago, there was a secret between my mother and me, a secret known solely to the two of us.

It was this secret that made me absolutely unable to believe that my mother would commit suicide!

However, I was too young at that time and knew almost nothing about the past, so I could only pin my hopes on my father.

In order to find out the truth, I swallowed my pride for the first time and begged him, "Dad, please tell me how my mom died."

However, he remained impervious, insisting, "She didn't want to live anymore."

Though I didn't believe it, I couldn't do anything.

Soon, the onlookers who had gathered by the entrance of the old house dispersed, and what was once a joyous opening scene transformed into a senseless mockery. I sat in a daze in the corner of the side room, confused and helpless.

When I thought about how that gentle woman left me in despair and misery, my heart began to ache uncontrollably.

I had never wanted to believe that the woman who was so gentle in my memory would leave me, who was only ten years old, and commit suicide in despair.

I heard that people who committed suicide would arrange everything in advance and then leave with a clear mind.

However, my mother had agreed to my request so sincerely. It was impossible for her to be so eager to end her life without even fulfilling my little wish.

She must have had some compelling reason to break her promise.

But what could it be? How did she die?

I asked myself this question countless times, yet all I got in response were still mottled walls and dust on the ground.

I got up helplessly. As I left, my elbow unintentionally scraped against a sizable fragment of the already crumbling paint.

As the dry lime soil scattered, the small red bricks within the wall were all exposed.

Inadvertently, I caught sight of a conspicuous white object nestled within the crevice between the dark red brick walls.

I took the object out, full of doubts. Until I shook off the dust on it, I realized it was something I had prepared back then.

However, when I opened it with trembling hands and saw the contents inside, I was struck with astonishment. It felt as if someone had delivered a powerful blow to my head with a stick, leaving me unable to regain my composure for a long time.

After a while, I couldn't hold back my tears anymore. I surrendered to my grief and burst into uncontrollable sobs.

I was like a wounded wolf, howling alone in the wilderness, my miserable voice mixed with anger and sadness.

Until this moment, I had always believed that the mystery that had troubled me since I was ten years old would remain unsolved.

Unexpectedly, today, I learned the hidden truth of the past at the place where the sin began.

While the truth abruptly halted and the mystery appeared to recede into deeper obscurity, I uncovered some information about what had happened in the past.

And with this secret, perhaps I could find out the rest of the truth in my own way.

I spent the entire night sitting in the corner of the old house, pondering relentlessly. Finally, at dawn, I thought of the best way to find out the truth.

After making up my mind, I solemnly put the things into my pocket and then walked to the homes of several elders at the front of the village with firm steps.

In less than 15 minutes, word quickly spread throughout the entire village that I intended to offer one million dollars to each of my father and his siblings in exchange for the old house.

The villagers looked at my elders with envious expressions.

Amidst the praises and admiration from everyone, I subtly displayed a barely perceptible sly smile.

In the afternoon, I invited the two esteemed village leaders, Zach and Harry, to join me in the dilapidated old house's main hall as witnesses to the upcoming event.

After a while, my family sat joyfully and neatly around the dark square table in the main hall.

My grandfather had three sons and one daughter, with my father being the second eldest among them.

The eldest son, Ryan, became mute due to illness at a young age. While he retained his ability to hear, he was unable to speak. His reserved and dull character left him single throughout his years. Now, he was old, and when I visited his house to invite him, I found him chopping wood. However, his agility and skill were not as sharp as they once were.

Ryan was the first to arrive. With a shy smile in his modest demeanor, he quietly settled himself in the corner of the main room, smoking as he remained silent.

The youngest son, Jacob, entered alongside his wife, Debra. Despite the smiles on their faces, there was a hint of estrangement in their relationship.

In contrast, the daughter, Regina, and her husband, Donny, who came in last, seemed to get along well. Not only were they holding hands, but their faces also radiated with sheer joy and happiness.

The final person to enter was my alcoholic father. He was already drunk by the afternoon, and his expression carried a mixture of emotions. He seemed torn between protesting my indifference towards him for over a decade and desiring closeness with me, now that I had returned home with success. Fortunately, I didn't allow him much time to hesitate. Upon entering the room, I offered a brief nod, addressed him as "Dad" in a low voice, and then never looked at him again.

With everyone in attendance, I politely greeted the elders one by one and then arranged for everyone to sit at the square table.

Harry and Zach took their seats at the front, while Ryan, accustomed to being reserved, hesitated to join the table. Sensing his discomfort, I decided not to force him into sitting.

My father sat down on the right side and gestured for me to sit beside him.

Jacob and Debra settled on the left side of the table, with Regina and Donny taking seats beside them.

Once we were seated, except for Ryan who couldn't speak, Regina, Debra, and Jacob started enthusiastically praising me.

"I've always believed you would achieve great things, and now you've made a lot of money. We're also benefiting from it," Regina expressed.

"Archer has been smart since childhood, and he has never forgotten his family. I've always liked you," said Debra.

"Archer, you have brought great honor to our family. Martin, you should also take credit for Archer's success!" exclaimed Jacob.

Inebriated from the wine, my father, upon hearing everyone's compliments towards me, also felt a sense of pride and began bragging.

As his outrageous boasts escalated, I could no longer tolerate it. I suddenly stood up and rushed to the door of the main hall.

With a creak, I closed the door of the old house.