“Old Su! Come take a look quick!”

Through the security door, Lin Shengnan’s excited voice shot straight into his ears: “Sister Chen said that A City Imperial Mansion not only has an excellent location but also offers an extra ten percent in floor space! Our old 135-square-meter home can be exchanged for 148.5 square meters—aren’t we getting a great deal?”

Su Wan froze mid-motion as she reached for the doorknob; her fingertips were clenched so tightly they turned white, her knuckles even bluish—here it comes! This is exactly the trap! The A City Imperial Mansion that had driven their family to the brink of despair in their previous life, nearly leaving them homeless, has finally come knocking at their door!

A sharp clang echoed from the kitchen—the sound of a spatula hitting a wok—and splatters of oil sizzled as they flew everywhere. Lin Shengnan frantically stirred the stir-fried greens while shouting, “It’s too salty! Too salty!” She tossed a spoonful of water into the pan, slammed the lid on with a bang, then turned to see Su Wan standing by the door, her eyes shining like little lights: “Wanwan, you’re finally back! Sister Chen just left and dropped off some promotional materials. Take a look at this A City Imperial Mansion—it’s a key replacement project. If you miss it, you’ll really be at a loss!”

Su Wan pushed open the door, closed it behind her, and slapped her bag onto the hook by the door. Her gaze, cold as ice, locked instantly on the gaudy color-printed flyer on the coffee table: a green border against a white background with bold black lettering, the main headline glaringly emphasized: “1:1.1 premium replacement—new benchmark for quality housing.” Below that, the floor plans depicted spacious, airy units complete with balconies and bay windows, accompanied by fine print reading “turnkey, fully furnished” and “five minutes’ walk to the subway station.” Even young people would be tempted, let alone elderly folks who aren’t familiar with real estate.

The scenes from their previous life exploded in her mind like a movie: her parents and older brother had been swayed by these empty promises, signing the letter of intent overnight and staking their entire 135-square-meter relocation entitlement on it. And what happened? They waited three whole years for the new apartment, during which time the developer changed three times. Finally, when the project wasn’t abandoned after all, the delivery terms were completely flipped: instead of the promised 148.5 square meters, they were offered only a 108-square-meter three-bedroom or a 78-square-meter two-bedroom—pick one. Want both? Fine, but you’ll have to pay extra!

The worst part was her older brother, Su Chen, who gritted his teeth and chose the 108-square-meter three-bedroom, only to discover upon receiving the keys that the common-area share accounted for a whopping 28%, leaving him with less than 80 square meters of actual living space. He was so regretful he couldn’t help but slap himself.

“Sister Chen said that if we sign the letter of intent within these next couple of days, we’ll get priority in choosing a good floor and a good unit!” Lin Shengnan wiped the stove, her smile fading considerably as she spoke. “The location isn’t off at all—once we step outside, we’re right by the subway. It’s convenient for grocery shopping and medical visits. How could something like this possibly be unreliable?”

Su Wan didn’t respond. Instead, she shot two piercing questions at her sister, her tone icy: “Did she show you the official documents? Is there a government-registered list of eligible replacements? Do you have a stamped certificate from the Relocation Office?”

Lin Shengnan’s movements halted abruptly, the smile on her face fading by more than half, her voice growing weaker: “Well… no, not exactly. But Sister Chen works at the Relocation Office—she deals with this kind of stuff every day. Why would she scam us? She was so enthusiastic—offering us water, handing out materials, even urging us to hurry up, saying that the most popular units would sell out fast and there’d be no chance if we waited too long!”

Su Wan flipped the flyer over and tapped the official seal in the corner with her fingertip, her tone mocking: “There’s only the developer’s seal—not even a trace of a government logo. Mom, don’t you remember? Scammers are masters at pretending to be enthusiastic.”

As she spoke, she pulled a printed copy of the “Relocation Settlement Implementation Rules” out of her backpack. The corners of the paper were crumpled and wrinkled, and she’d highlighted key sections with a highlighter—clear evidence that she’d been poring over it repeatedly these past few days, committing every detail to memory. “Dad, Mom, tomorrow I’ll go with you to the Relocation Office and ask everything clearly. We won’t sign anything until we’ve got everything straight!”

Su Jianguo, who had been quietly peeling garlic all along, suddenly looked up, his expression turning serious in an instant, and the garlic peel in his hand fell to the floor: “Wanwan, what do you mean by that? Is there something fishy going on here?”

“I’m not sure yet, but we have to get to the bottom of it,” Su Wan shook her head, her tone resolute. “If this so-called ‘replacement’ isn’t officially sanctioned, it’s just a third-party development company using government policies as a cover to hoodwink people! We can’t sign blindly and risk putting our whole family’s stability on the line!”

End of Chapter 20: Publicity