My Mom's Jade Bracelet

The plane shuddered slightly the moment it touched down on the tarmac. My fingertips brushed the window; after five years away, the city's silhouette gradually sharpened through the breaks in the clouds. When the cabin door opened, the humid breeze carrying the scent of gardenia swept over me. I inhaled deeply, a familiar dryness rising in my throat. The suitcase's spinner wheels emitted a steady, soft sound as they rolled across the marble floor of the terminal. The electronic screen at baggage claim scrolled flight information. My name had briefly appeared in the news five years ago — the Lynn Family's eldest daughter going abroad to study. At that time, Father, Hugo Lynn, had seen me off personally; the gold-rimmed glasses gleaming from the sleeves of his suit made me squint. The taxi drove along L Avenue, the river shimmering with flecks of gold in the afternoon sun. I gazed out the window at the arcade buildings rushing by; the ivy climbing their walls was denser than I remembered. A child leaned on the rear seat of an old-fashioned bicycle, happily spinning a pinwheel in their hand. The driver suddenly said, "Ms., are you back from out of town? J Road has changed a lot over the years." I nodded, my gaze settling on the longstanding dessert shop at the street corner. Back then, I always loved coming here with my mother; the double-skin milk in the glass display wobbled delicately, and she would push the red beans from her bowl onto mine. Just as my thoughts began to stir, my phone's navigation announced that I had reached my destination. When my palm struck the copper ring on the carved wooden door, my heart skipped a beat. The door hinge creaked with a heavy groan; in the courtyard, banana leaves drooped with water droplets, and koi flicked their tails in the pond framed by bluestone slabs—everything was exactly as I remembered, yet there was an indescribable sense of estrangement. The crystal chandelier in the living room cast dazzling reflections. Melody Scott sat cross-legged, sunk into the velvet sofa, a glimpse of pale leg revealed through the slit of her cheongsam, her fingertips painted vivid red cochineal twisting a pearl necklace, each pearl clicking softly at every touch. The moment she lifted her eyes, her false eyelashes cast a faint shadow on her eyelids. "Are you Windy Lynn?" Melody Scott's voice was like a blade dipped in honey—sweet, yet laced with sharpness. As she rose, the frog buttons of her cheongsam brushed against her pearl necklace. "So, you truly are a country bumpkin returned, steeped in poverty." I placed my suitcase by the entrance, the hem of my black trench coat sweeping the floor. I recognized her face—from the photo in Father's study drawer, where this woman rested against his shoulder, smiling with wild abandon. The gentleness once captured in the photo has now wholly transformed into a harshness etched between the brows. "Ms. Scott," my fingers paused while undoing the buttons of my trench coat, the cool impression of the metal rings lingering in my palm, "this is the Lynn Family—we don't need an outsider like you dictating terms." Melody Scott sneered softly, clicking her red stilettos as she approached me. The scent of perfume mingled with hair spray hit me like a wave; instinctively, I turned my head to see her precisely lined eyes scanning me up and down, as if appraising a discounted item. "An outsider?" Melody Scott suddenly raised her voice, the pearl necklace spinning faster in her palm. "Windy Lynn, understand this clearly: I am the one who decides in this household now! Your father has long ceased to have any feelings for you; otherwise, he wouldn't have let you wander away all these years." "I am Hugo Lynn's only daughter, the rightful heir of the Lynn family." I looked her straight in the eyes, each word ringing with conviction, though a bitter lump rose again in my throat. The sharp slap echoed through the living room, and my cheek burned as if scorched by fire. I covered my face and looked up, seeing Melody Scott's raised hand still not lowered; the sleeve of her cheongsam had slipped down to her elbow, revealing the dazzling jade green on her wrist. The winding lotus pattern on the jade bracelet was clearly visible under the light—the curve of the petals, the veins on the leaves—exactly the same as the one in my mother's dressing table drawer. Before I left the country, I personally placed the jade bracelet into the safe; the code was my mother's birthday. "Where did the jade bracelet on your wrist come from?" My voice trembled beyond control; my fingertips dug into my palm, drawing blood drops without me even noticing. Melody Scott proudly shook her wrist, the Jade Bracelet clinking against her silver bangle with a sharp, clear sound. "Oh, you mean this? Hugo gave it to me. He said it's a Lynn family heirloom. What, you like it? Too bad—it's mine now." The moment I reached out to grab it, Melody Scott slipped away like an eel. She stepped back twice, leaning against the rosewood display cabinet, causing the Blue and White Porcelain Vase on top to wobble. "Want it? Then come and take it if you can. But I'd advise you not to waste your efforts; I'm the one who calls all the shots in this family now."