"There's not much to explain in this one, it's all that is promised."
Zhao Yingyue woke with a start and groaned when her phone lit up her face and announced that it was 3 am in the morning. After tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, mind racing and unable to sleep, she padded back down to the Rosewood study and set herself down into the leather wing-backed chair and found herself a piece of paper and started to write:
Dear Father,
It's been a while since I've had the chance to sit and think, you didn't exactly make life easy for me when you left. It feels strange just being able to sit and breathe in peace and quiet, it feels wrong, father, as if I'm committing some kind of crime and betraying your memory by not working every second of every day. I went into the Rosewood Study today, I always wondered what was in there as a child and tried any number of ways to try and get in there all to no avail and only resulted in trips to A and E with complaints of concussion. But that you already know that. I never knew that you kept or even cared about the trophies and certificates that I brought you, month after month, year after year. You hid it very well. What I saw today proved the very essence of what I thought you stood for to be completely wrong. You had a heart, somewhere, albeit a very small one, hidden under all kinds of walls and barbed wires. I'm writing this mainly as a form of closure for myself but also to say the things I wish I would say to you in person and now I cannot. The cemetery is flooded with so many bouquets of white lilies and other flowers that you can smell the damned place from about five streets down, in such a big city no less. There is not a chance in heaven or hell than I could ever get in to see you so I'll wait patiently for the rangers to finally start removing the flowers. Looking at the eyesore of colours and sea of cheap cellophane wrapping makes me realise that there are a great many truths in your cynical outlook on the world that I simply didn't understand as a child, but now I see it much more clearly than is comfortable, in screaming colour and glaringly sharp focus, the truth behind your elusive grimaces and harsh words. Over the past week, I have received more letters than I've ever seen, never mind ever had to deal with. Most of them start something like this:
Yingyue, I know we were never close while your father was alive but blood is thicker than water, and seeing as we have fallen on hard times...
Loans, paying off mortgages, hell even three marriage proposals. I've stopped opening them now and asked Elise to send them back, although inside the first proposal letter I opened, was the most beautiful and classy ring. You were right, father, our family is absolute trash, your passing has not even been at the forefront of their minds for the obligatory month and they are already looking to sink their claws into some of the materialistic things you left behind, I for one am absolutely baffled as to how you could possibly have spent so long surrounded by such toxic people who would sell you or go behind you back like that in the blink of an eye without any sort of moral hindrance or qualms. It's quite frankly disgusting to witness and makes me sick to the stomach.
There's so much I want to say, so many things I regret saying and even more that I left unsaid, in the spaces between because I didn't have the courage to say it out loud then. I used to hate you, dad, and I think you know that, in hindsight, I really did a terrible job of hiding it, so I wouldn't be surprised. It means a lot to me and I'll be forever grateful. I hope that wherever you are now, that you are happier there than you were here and that you'll forgive my ramblings as a child of how much I despised everything about you.
You truly have left great and very large shoes to fill, that's not easy, but because you have confidence in me, this is the one single time that I have ever and more than likely will ever dive headfirst into something as huge as taking over a company. But, I also wanted to tell you, father, I understand now, a lot of your decisions in the past, I respect them, but I will not be using the same tyrannical techniques that you used to rule with an iron fist. You always told me that the business world is like a battlefield and to stay respected, you must rule with an iron fist. Make no mistake, I intend on ruling with an iron fist, just not as harsh a one as you did.
Father, I hope you'll approve and that someday, I can prove to you that I was at such a young age, worth the trust that you put into me.
Yours,
Xiaoyue
The next morning, Elise Faulkner woke, as usual, 6 am on the dot and kept her eyes closed, and spent five minutes listening to the occasional burst of bird song and the quiet bustling of the manor staff. She sat up when the alarm rang and swung herself out of bed, smoothing her clothes down and quickly readjusting her hair into a more presentable chignon with a few emergency items from her hand. She knocked on Yingyue's door only to find the bed made neatly and started to panic. It was only when her phone buzzed that she let out a breath that she didn't know was holding.
Breakfast is ready, she's at the table.
When Elise walked through the dining room doors, Yingyue smiled and waved her over. "Would we be able to stop by the cemetery, I want to burn this for my father."
"You want to do what?"
"Go to the cemetery and burn a letter to my father."
"Why would you burn the letter?"
"It's a Chinese tradition, to provide for our loved ones who have passed, we burn papers, letters, and money, not actual money, as well as offering fruit and candy."
"Of course, but before, finish your breakfast and we need to do the biometrics for the Rosewood study."
"Finished both, whenever you're ready."