Chapter Eighteen: Speaking of Revenge

All the remaining holdouts in the village were eventually persuaded by my uncle—whether through gentle words or stubborn persistence—and everyone agreed to relocate the graves. The day for the relocation was set for the following morning.

It was as if the entire village had turned out, a grand procession, the scene bustling with people.

Before setting out, a blessing was needed for good fortune. So the villagers sought out the hero of this undertaking—my uncle—to lead the way. Yet, after searching high and low, no one could find him; his house was empty as well.

With no other option, the villagers had to proceed; after all, the timing of such an important event could not be delayed.

But when they arrived at the old burial hill, they were stunned. Some of the children who saw what lay ahead were so frightened they burst into tears.

A man was hanging from the blank tombstone.

He wore dark blue clothes, and perhaps because he had grown so thin, the clothes hung off him loosely. Many immediately recognized him—it was none other than my uncle. By then, he was little more than skin and bones, his face sunken, looking more like a skull covered in a thin layer of skin.

Just days before, he had been a model villager, yet now he was dead in such a wretched manner.

The villagers could hardly believe it, and soon the rumors began. Especially among the elderly, who said my uncle had courted disaster by helping outsiders and trying to sell the ancestral burial ground—this was retribution for angering the ancestors of the Lin family!

Seeing my uncle’s tragic death, many villagers suddenly reconsidered. There were so many legends about the old grave hill; if not for the lure of gold, no one would ever move their family tombs. Even with black-and-white contracts and seals, people would not dare do such a thing that would cut off their descendants.

When I saw the villagers shrinking back in fear, I began to understand—this was my uncle’s plan. He said his method would be useless if revealed, but truly, he was afraid I would try to stop him.

My uncle had used his own death to warn the Lin family that the ancestral graves must not be disturbed. He may not have had my grandfather’s abilities, but he defended the old grave hill with his life.

Realizing this filled me with unspeakable sorrow.

Before all this, he told me to take care of myself and my grandfather. It wasn’t a simple reminder—it was his farewell.

With Erpang and a few villagers, we took my uncle down.

Niu Dahuang hurried over. He glanced at my uncle, didn’t even check his pulse, and simply said, “He’s gone, kid. My condolences.”

I squatted to the side, staring at my uncle’s body, overwhelmed by grief. I couldn’t understand why the wine from Granny Wang hadn’t helped; even if it couldn’t save him, shouldn’t it have protected his life?

Already, rumors were swirling through the village, claiming that disturbing the old grave hill would only bring ruin. Before, Ma Weiguo had suppressed these rumors, but now, with my uncle’s death, they spread like wildfire. Soon, the entire village was gripped by fear.

The grave relocation was called off.

The faces of the Taoist priests grew ugly, and they shouted at Ma Weiguo, even threatening to take back their gold. Ma Weiguo, clutching his thick gold chain, was at a loss, trying desperately to placate the priests and promising to resolve the matter.

But I no longer cared about any of them.

Because I knew the truth—my uncle had sacrificed himself for the old grave hill.

When he waited for me at the village entrance, he had already decided to give up his life to protect it. He stopped me because he was afraid I would act rashly, that I’d fight Ma Weiguo; he was only trying to shield me.

The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. I wanted to slap myself—why hadn’t I seen it sooner? I’d even said so many harsh things to him before.

After bringing his body home, I went into his room. It was a mess; the table and floor were littered with nutshells, especially walnut shells—the same kind Erpang and I had picked up at the brigade courtyard. On the bedside, I found the bottle of wine I had given him, still sealed and untouched.

Under the bottle, there was a note.

I quickly opened it and read the few lines:

“Kid, I know this good wine you brought was from your grandmother. She still thinks of me, and I’m ashamed. But I’m not fated to see her again, nor can I fulfill my duty to her. The wine from your grandmother is fine wine, but I cannot drink it—wine clouds judgment, and if I drank it, it would ruin my plans. Don’t mourn for me; if one worthless life can ensure peace for the old grave hill, even if only for a while, it’s worth it!”

By the time I finished reading, tears were streaming down my face.

Erpang patted my shoulder, probably at a loss for words.

I squatted by my uncle’s bed, clutching the note. If those Taoist priests hadn’t come, even if my uncle really was possessed by some evil force, with Granny Wang around, I believed she could have saved him. So, besides the evil thing that haunted him, those priests were also to blame for his death.

Rage overwhelmed me, and I strode outside, grabbing an axe to seek revenge. Erpang saw what I was about to do and rushed to block me.

“Boss, what are you doing?” he shouted.

I didn’t answer, trying to bypass him.

He blocked my way. “Move!” I yelled.

“No! Even if you kill me today, I won’t let you!” Erpang stood firm; he knew exactly what I intended.

“Boss, calm down! Do you really think you can get revenge like this? You alone against all of them?” Erpang shouted back.

I knew he was right, but I couldn’t swallow my anger.

Seizing the chance, Erpang snatched the axe from me, tossed it aside, closed the door, and pulled me back inside. “Boss, I know you’re furious. Hell, I am too! But going after those priests now won’t help us—it’ll only get us killed!”

“Remember what your uncle told you—take care of yourself and your grandfather. If you’re gone too, what will happen to your grandfather? He hasn’t even woken up yet!”

His words jolted me back to reality. I clenched my jaw and sat down.

A sense of powerlessness flooded me—in my uncle’s time of crisis, I could do nothing; after his death, I couldn’t avenge him. The same was true with my grandfather; whether facing the peddler or Ma the Cripple, I was useless—unable to fight back, only to run, and sometimes I couldn’t even manage that.

With such weakness, how could I speak of revenge, or caring for my grandfather?

“Erpang, help me watch over my uncle. I need to go out,” I said.

He worried I’d do something reckless and blocked my path again. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to get myself killed.” I had lost my head earlier, but now I knew better than to march into the brigade courtyard with an axe—revenge couldn’t be taken that way.

Leaving my uncle’s house, I headed to Dongwa Village.

Granny Wang saw me but said nothing, simply beckoned me inside and poured me tea. I had no appetite for tea, and she didn’t ask about the village.

I didn’t know how to speak of my uncle’s death. Instead, I placed the note I had been clutching on the table. She didn’t even look at it, just asked, “He didn’t drink the wine?”

I murmured assent.

“Child, your uncle did nothing wrong.” I hadn’t expected Granny Wang to say this, as if she’d foreseen everything.

“Why? Was it worth it, just for that barren hill?” I couldn’t control my emotion, and nearly shouted at her.

“It was worth it! If I were him, I’d have done the same. If your grandfather were in his place, so would he. Such is fate—none of us can escape it,” she replied calmly, her face utterly composed.

“To hell with fate! I don’t believe in it!” Her calmness made my anger surge uncontrollably.

“I understand how you feel about your uncle, but—”

“No, you don’t! You can’t even bear to glance at his last words. And he still wanted to be a dutiful son to you…” My voice broke.

Her hand, holding the teacup, froze. It trembled slightly as she stared at the crumpled note on the table, unmoving.

“Your grandfather doesn’t acknowledge me. He needn’t be so devoted to this duty.” She turned away, heading for the inner room, and as she did, I saw the glint of tears in her eyes.

Suddenly, I felt I had gone too far.

My uncle’s death had shaken me so badly; my words had been too harsh. I stood and said, “Granny Wang, I’m sorry!”

There was no reply from the other room.

I hadn’t come to her for this, but things had turned out this way. With no other option, I headed for the door. But just as I reached it, Granny Wang called out, “Did you come here only for this?”

She stepped out, her face once again cold and indifferent, as if the tears I’d seen were only my imagination.

I dared not sit again. Instead, I clasped my hands in front of me, preparing to kneel—as I had intended all along. But just as I bent my knees, she shouted, “What are you doing?”

Startled, I froze, neither standing nor kneeling.

“Granny Wang, I want to be your student!” Only by growing stronger could I protect those I cared about. My uncle’s death had made me understand that.

“Your aptitude is too poor. I won’t take you,” she refused flatly, leaving me speechless.

Perhaps she was still angry with me, so I said, “I’m sorry about before—I apologize.”

“It has nothing to do with what just happened…”

“If that’s so, then I’ll kneel. If you won’t accept me, I won’t get up!” With that, I ignored her protests and knelt anyway. If one is to beg for a teacher, one must be sincere.