A Prophet - Chapter 27 (Part 2)

Chapter 2 - The Death of Zeng Jingwu

In 1995, Zeng Jingwu's son sent word of his passing: "Uncles, my father has passed away."

Upon hearing this, tears of the aged streamed down our faces. This man, born of the "Axe Gang", possessed an upright and righteous character throughout his life, repeatedly extending a helping hand during the most difficult times of our "Muzi Lian". If Confucian culture is a culture of "chivalry", Zeng Jingwu was the very embodiment of chivalry and righteousness. His heart was the softest, his bones were the hardest, and in his entire life, he never bowed to any evil. From the early days of the "Axe Gang" to his later joining of the Communist Party, his fiery spirit never faded, and he spent his entire life championing justice for the oppressed.

He once said to Grandfather, "I don't believe in fortune-telling; I only believe in the brothers by my side and the gun in my hand."

Underworld thugs could do nothing to him, Japanese devils could do nothing to him, the Nationalist Military Statistics Bureau could do nothing to him, and the ghosts and demons could do nothing to him. He stood tall and straight, bearing the backbone of an entire nation. He was Zeng Jingwu, a proletarian fighter tested through the fires of time.

We attended Zeng Jingwu's memorial service.

After the family reception concluded, several of us sector bosses went to the back room.

Zeng Jingwu's son, Zeng Jianguo, grasped my hand and said, "Uncle Liu, right before my father passed away, he kept holding a folding fan. Could it be he had some lingering, unsettled grievance in his heart?"

I hurriedly asked, "What fan?"

"Please wait a moment." He returned to the room and quickly walked out holding a folding fan. "It's this one."

I took it, slowly unfolded it, and drew in a sharp breath: "Liver and Gall, Benevolence and Righteousness!"

This was a fan that Wang Yazhiqiao had given to Grandfather back in the day. The four characters "Liver and Gall, Benevolence and Righteousness" were written in Wang Yazhiqiao's own hand, and during his lifetime, Grandfather never let this fan leave his side. How had it ended up in Zeng Jingwu's hands?

"This... where did this come from?" I asked Zeng Jianguo.

Zeng Jianguo said, "I don't know. When my father was gravely ill, he asked us to open a trunk and fetch this fan. During his final days, he kept looking at it. Does Uncle Liu know whose it is?"

I said, "This belonged to Grandfather."

"Grandfather? The head master who was executed by firing squad in 1952? Father mentioned him to me."

"Indeed."

"Then what did my father mean by keeping this fan?"

I thought for a moment and said, "It was probably out of nostalgia for the past. How about giving this fan to me?"

"Alright, you can take it. Just keep it safe."

Returning home, I pondered for a long time: Zeng Jingwu was still thinking of Grandfather as he lay dying...

In the following years, life went on as usual, and the days continued as before. The only change was that the three of us sector bosses were aging rapidly.

Only then did I understand the sorrow in that poem by Li Bai: "White hair three thousand丈 long, stirred by sorrow matching its length. In the clear mirror I know not, where the autumn frost was found."

My son got married, and shortly after, my daughter did too. I had a grandson and a granddaughter. I was about to cross into a new century, and Sibaitou, Seventh Brother, and I had a pact: we had to live to be one hundred years old and become centenarians of the era.

Sibaitou ultimately failed to keep his promise; in 1998, he fell gravely ill.

Without experiencing the brotherhood weathered through half a century of storms, one can never truly comprehend the phrase "brothers are like hands and feet." A bond surpassing that of blood ties—we had all traveled far and wide under Grandfather's banner, fighting battles across the north and south. We had all wept bitter tears at the very moment Grandfather fell. We had served prison sentences together, wept and laughed together, taken wives, had children, and grown old together. Now that he was stepping ahead into death, how could one's heart not ache?

In his final moments, Sibaitou was in great agony. He seemed to harbor many unfulfilled wishes. When he had sent all his sons and daughters out of the hospital room, he whispered to me: "Farong is not dead..."

Before he could finish his words, he lapsed into unconsciousness.

During moments of temporary revival, he shouted out the Secret Manual of Binding and Flying that he had painstakingly studied in his youth: "Binding and flying hands, Lu Ban's mouth; binding and flying leads Lu Ban along, leading along, leading along, pulling out six beasts to play mouth-to-mouth..."

Afterward, he struggled to raise both arms, as though pushing away or fighting free from something.

I had witnessed the scene of death before. People always say that if a person has committed evil deeds during their lifetime, their creditors from grievances and debts will come to hound them at the hour of death. At that moment, the body's vital yang energy gradually fades, yin energy shrouds the surroundings, and all sorts of normally invisible things emerge.

I once crossed paths with an elderly scholar of traditional Chinese studies who had attained profound mastery in Buddhist philosophy. He had told me that dying is extremely painful, akin to "a raw turtle shedding its shell or a live ox being skinned."

Returning home, I retrieved a Buddha-chanting machine that the old scholar had gifted me. I placed it beside Sibaitou's pillow, flipped the switch, and peaceful, melodious tones rang out: "Namo Amitabha Buddha..."

Sibaitou's expression gradually relaxed. Amidst the resonant echoes of the Buddhist chants, he exhaled his final breath and departed completely.

After sending off Sibaitou, Seventh Brother and I wept bitterly before returning to our respective homes.

Recalling the words Sibaitou had once spoken, I drifted in a state between sleep and waking when I suddenly heard a knock on the door. Upon opening it, Grandfather's figure appeared before my eyes!

It vanished in a flash, and I even suspected my eyes had played tricks on me.

For all these years, I had never doubted Grandfather's death, right up until a woman claiming to be Huang Farong's daughter appeared before me.

She told me with absolute certainty: "Grandfather is not dead!"

The several Aobaos under her command even produced photographs of Grandfather from his later years, making the world spin around me.

"Grandfather really isn't dead!" Huang Farong's daughter said firmly.

A wave of doubt washed over me. Though I was old, my wits were still intact, and I maintained a constant vigilance toward this abruptly appearing woman.

I thought for a moment and said, "Never mind whether Grandfather is dead or alive for a moment. You say you are Fourth Sister-in-law Huang Farong's daughter. Based on what you claim, Fourth Sister-in-law gave birth to two daughters in 1945. Counting from then, her daughter would be at least fifty-something years old, yet... yet you look at most like you're in your forties!"

"Heh." She smiled. "Does Mr. Liu remember Jiang Feiyan?"

"I remember, what about her?"

"Back in those days, she was able to maintain her youthful appearance without aging through makeup. Is it really so strange that someone in their fifties like me looks like they're in their forties today? I am indeed Huang Farong's younger daughter, and my name is Hu Aihua."

Upon reflection, it did make some sense. As I scrutinized the woman once more, I noticed there were indeed a few faint crow's feet at the corners of her eyes.

"You are saying Grandfather is not dead?" I asked.

"Not dead."

"Then where is he now?" I pressed.

"I don't know."

"Heh-heh-heh-heh." I laughed. "Young lady, this is no joking matter. I don't know what your true identity is, nor do I know what you are trying to achieve by coming to us, but if you are plotting against Grandfather and the 'Jiangxiang Sect', I think you've played the wrong card. If you dare to spread rumors and stir up trouble, I'll call the police!"

She smiled faintly, fixed her eyes on me, and said, "Does Mr. Liu remember the Cultural Revolution?"

"Of course I remember."

"Do you remember Zeng Jingwu once being subjected to struggle sessions?"

"I remember."

"Do you remember the labels the Red Guards pinned on Zeng Jingwu back then?"

I fell into deep thought.

She picked up her cup, took a sip of water, and said leisurely, "One of the charges during his struggle sessions was 'colluding with foreign bandits, providing cover for the leader of a reactionary Taoist sect, swapping the prince for a leopard cat, and secretly releasing a death-row prisoner!'"

My heart jolted. "How could anyone believe such talk? Those people who subjected instructor Zeng to struggle sessions back then all harbored personal grudges, slapping all sorts of labels onto instructor Zeng. But those matters were investigated later and proved to be entirely groundless; instructor Zeng was even rehabilitated. Now that instructor Zeng has passed away, you're dredging up these stale clichés again. What is your game?"

"Heh. From the bottom of my heart, I admire your Grandfather. He managed to live under an alias for decades. I admire you brothers even more—you are truly loyal to your boss."

"Hahahahaha." I burst into wild laughter. "You expect me to believe you just by saying things like that?"

"Whether you believe me or not doesn't matter. What matters is that your Grandfather is not dead. Do you want to see him?" She blinked, her gaze filled with an eerie look.

"If you don't leave right now, I'm calling the police. You and your people setting up fortune-telling stalls here constitutes fraud, and I can report you at any moment," I said loudly.

My wife hurriedly stepped in to smooth things over. "Look at you, losing your temper again, always with this same old hothead attitude! Let the young lady finish what she has to say. If she really is Fourth Sister-in-law's daughter, we're all family. Why get angry?"

The woman nodded and smiled. "The auntie here is the reasonable one. If you old folks go looking for the police right now, you will never find Grandfather!"

I slammed the table. "Fine! Let's lay our cards on the table. Who are you, and what do you want?"

"Is that important?"

"It is very important."

"I can only tell you that I am Huang Farong's daughter. As for whether you believe it or not, that's your concern. I've come all the way to China from America precisely to find Grandfather."

"What do you want with Grandfather?" I asked.

"To settle an old debt. And by the way, to fulfill a dream for you surviving old sector bosses."

"What debt?"

"A debt of the heart."

"What kind of debt of the heart?"

"When we meet him, I will spell it out myself."

"Heh." I laughed again. "Young lady, you are too fond of jokes. I don't believe a single word you've said. Off you go, leave us."

"You already believe it. I need your help. Only when you personally step out can Grandfather be forced to show himself. I'll give you three days to think about it. You'd better consult with that surviving Seventh Brother. This is an old debt belonging to your 'Jiangxiang Sect'; if you guys don't settle it, no one else can!"

"Get out of here!" I roared.

"Don't! Don't!" My wife held me back. "Let's talk this over."

"Goodbye, uncle, auntie." The woman playfully made a goodbye gesture, stood up, and walked out.

My eyelids twitched violently, my breathing began to grow labored, and a sharp pain flared in my chest. Clutching my chest, my entire body trembled.

"What's wrong with you, old man?" my wife shouted in terror, grabbing the telephone to dial our daughter's number. "Daughter, come home quickly, your father isn't feeling well!"

Our daughter pedaled her bicycle at top speed all the way from the hospital. "Dad! Quick, hurry to the hospital!"