Chapter Sixteen: Uncle Buries the Body

Hanzi's death struck my uncle hard, and after my aunt passed away, it pushed him into utter despair. I went to see him during that time; his face was covered in stubble, he'd grown frighteningly thin. When I spoke to him, he didn't answer—he simply drank in silence, one gulp after another.

I tried to persuade him, but nothing I said made a difference. He told me that, after everything, life held no meaning for him, and I shouldn't worry about him.

So, when I saw my uncle standing at the village entrance, I was genuinely surprised.

The moment he saw me, he came over at once. It hadn't actually been long since his misfortunes began, but he already looked shockingly gaunt—his cheekbones jutted out, his stubble was still wet with liquor, a heavy smell of alcohol clung to him, and he couldn't even hold a half-smoked cigarette steady in his trembling hand.

"Yi, we can't sell Old Grave Hill!" he said wearily.

In truth, I could guess why he waited for me at the village gate—it had to be about this. I wondered if he knew the secret of Old Grave Hill, so I asked, but he only shook his head. He said he didn't know any secrets, just that my aunt and Hanzi had only recently been buried, and the living shouldn't disturb fresh graves.

I told him I’d come back just for this, but right now, I had no clue how to proceed. With so many villagers involved, if even most of the Lin family agreed, I had no idea how to stop them from selling Old Grave Hill. In any case, that land wasn’t ours alone.

After listening, my uncle took a deep breath, tossed away his cigarette, and said, "Yi, don’t worry about this—leave it to me. Just remember to take care of your grandfather!"

With that, he left, walking unsteadily. How could he possibly stop them?

"Uncle, what do you plan to do?" I called after him.

He didn't look back, just waved his hand and said, "I have my ways. If I tell you, it won’t work!"

I wanted to chase after him, but I knew it was pointless. I understood my uncle—he was as reticent as they come. If he didn't want to talk, no one but my aunt could get a word out of him.

When he’d gone, Er Pang and I headed to the village committee’s courtyard. All the way there, I kept wondering what my uncle's plan could be. On his own, without the stature of my grandfather, could he really handle this?

In the committee yard, many people were already signing and stamping their fingerprints.

Ma Weiguo was there, smug as ever. When he saw me, he came right over. "Ah, Yi, you’re here! After all these years, our village is finally seeing something great. I was just looking for you—everyone else has signed, only your family is left. Come, come—huge chunks of gold, easy money!"

"You’d stoop to such a heartless thing?" I glared at him, retorting.

His expression froze instantly.

But within half a minute, he forced a smile and said, "Haha... I understand, I do. Old folks are superstitious—your grandfather’s one of them, and you grew up under his influence. It’s only natural to be wary."

"My cousin’s death was just days ago. Have you forgotten? Are you trying to doom the whole village?" I pressed on, and the villagers all turned to look at me, clearly uneasy. After all, what good is money if you’re not alive to spend it?

"Lin Yi, don’t you dare push your luck! With so many Taoist masters here, your cousin’s death is nothing!" Ma Weiguo snapped.

I ignored him and glanced into the room. Inside, a group of Taoists sat around, dressed in dark gray robes. The table was piled with nuts—walnuts, peanuts, sunflower seeds, all scattered in a mess on the floor. When I looked over, a few glanced back at me, their eyes shifty and suspicious—not at all like the dignified air of the Master in Blue I’d met before.

In my view, a Taoist ought to have a certain bearing—these men were nothing of the sort, probably just a bunch of frauds.

"Humph, nothing but a gang of swindlers," I muttered.

I hadn’t expected my words to enrage Ma Weiguo so. He shouted, "What did you say? The price these masters are offering is enough for every family in the village to live comfortably for life!"

He wasn’t wrong—I’d seen with my own eyes that anyone who signed and stamped their name received two small gold ingots, each the size of a child’s fist.

The glitter of gold was indeed tempting.

But another detail caught my eye: the agreements being signed were all written on yellow joss paper. That struck me as odd.

At that moment, I remembered what Granny Wang had said—she couldn’t have lied to me. She’d warned that moving the graves would kill everyone in the village, and I believed her.

Since I couldn’t reason with them, I decided we’d have to act. I exchanged a glance with Er Pang, and together we rushed to snatch the joss paper contracts.

Unfortunately, Ma Weiguo had plenty of men. They quickly restrained us. He grabbed my collar and, without a word, raised his fist to punch me.

Just as his fist was about to land, someone stepped between us—it was my uncle, taking the blow. Ma Weiguo’s punch was vicious and struck my uncle on the mouth. Blood seeped out as my uncle wiped it away, but he still forced a smile and said, "Captain Ma, young men are hot-blooded and ignorant. Please don’t take offense. Our family agrees to move the graves. No problem—I’ll go sign right now."

"Uncle—"

"Enough!" he barked, shooting me a complicated look.

Sure enough, my uncle went ahead, signed, stamped his fingerprint, and collected two gold ingots, which he tucked into his pocket without another word to me.

What baffled me even more was that many of the older Lin family members—those Ma Weiguo couldn’t handle—were now being persuaded by my uncle, who went door to door urging them to agree, sometimes coaxing, sometimes bribing them with rice, oil, or cash. Within three days, everyone who had objected had caved in.

Whenever I tried to talk to my uncle, he refused to see me.

At one point, he even went to town, bought new clothes and shoes, and spruced himself up. It seemed like he’d changed completely, no longer the man I used to know.

He had made Ma Weiguo’s job easy, and Ma Weiguo was so pleased he even announced over the village loudspeaker that my uncle was being honored as a model citizen, awarding him a generous bonus.

He was publicly commended for his leading role in the “great relocation” that would benefit the whole village.

One afternoon, I ran into my uncle at the village entrance. He was carrying a large sack and a hoe. I thought I’d try persuading him again, but he just sneered and dismissed my efforts. I asked him why he was doing this—hadn’t he said the graves couldn’t be moved, and told me to leave things to him?

He only smiled, saying, "The dead are gone. After a while, they’re nothing but dust. If the dead can bring the living a windfall, that’s their final use. Otherwise, what good is Old Grave Hill to anyone?"

I hadn’t expected him to say such things—it made me angry and speechless. He used to be so honest and steady, and now he was like a different person. I wondered if something had happened, or if Ma Weiguo was secretly threatening him.

But no matter how I asked, he wouldn’t tell me. He insisted he was acting of his own free will—he’d lived his whole life under other people’s control, like a dog, and now he wanted to live freely for once.

I was at a loss for words.

The sack on his shoulder was heavy—I asked what was inside, but he simply said it was nothing. After he left, Er Pang and I pretended to head home but doubled back and quietly followed him.

We trailed my uncle deep into the mountains, four or five miles in, to a remote forest. There, he looked around, set down the sack, dug a large pit, and buried the heavy bag.

When he’d finished, he muttered a few words we couldn’t hear from our hiding place. Once he’d gone, Er Pang and I went to dig up the pit ourselves.

Er Pang was nervous. "Boss, you don’t think your uncle’s killed someone, do you? What if there’s a body in there?"

His words unsettled me, too—it was exactly what I’d been thinking. Carrying a sack to a hidden spot and burying it was a classic way to dispose of evidence.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself. "Whatever it is, let’s open it and see."

But when we opened the sack, we were both stunned.

"Damn... It’s all..." Er Pang was at a loss for words.

Inside the sack weren’t human remains, but dozens of dead cats. Judging by the numbers, nearly every cat in our village must be here.

Most of the cats had died horribly. After a brief look, Er Pang crouched and began to retch. I quickly tied the sack closed again and buried it.

Why had my uncle killed every cat in the village?

It was just too bizarre.

After he finished retching, Er Pang seemed deep in thought. I asked him what he was thinking. After a pause, he said, "Boss, what’s most afraid of cats?"

"Obviously, rats," I replied.

"Exactly. With all the cats gone, it’s a feast for the rats. If you think about it, your uncle’s actions are helping the rats in the village!"

That was Er Pang’s theory. It sounded ridiculous, but somehow, it felt like there was more to it.

He continued, "Boss, don’t you think those Taoists who came to our village are off somehow?"

Now that he mentioned it, I felt the same unease.