A Prophet - Chapter 8 (Part 1)

Chapter 1 - I Saw Grandfather

There are no ghosts in this world, I know that, yet Grandfather has been dead for 46 years, and just now I clearly saw him! I recoiled in fright, almost tumbling backward, and when I steadied my footing, the dark shadow was gone! Cold sweat broke out all over me, and my left eyelid twitched violently, an ominous premonition quickly blanketing my entire body.

"Twitching left eyelid brings disaster, twitching right brings wealth." So the common folk say, but in my experience, whichever eyelid twitches, nothing good ever comes of it.

This set of divination methods regarding the auspiciousness and inauspiciousness of eyelid twitches passed down by the ancients is quite eerie, and even fortune-tellers cannot help but cross-check them. First, one must distinguish between the left and right eyes: the left is Yang, and the right is Yin. Then, one must look at the earthly branch hour—whether it falls during the four cardinal hours of Zi, Wu, Mao, and You; the four lateral hours of Shen, Yin, Es, and Hai; or the four grave hours of Chen, Xu, Chou, and Wei. A mnemonic chant goes: Twelve earthly branches and twelve palaces, the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams hidden within; Zi, Wu, Mao, and You bring much eating and drinking, while Shen, Yin, Si, and Hai bring disasters...

Back when I was idling my days away at the gambling dens in my youth, we used this exact method to hunt roe deer, calling it "divining by the heart." Everything from twitching eyes, twitching flesh, ringing ears, burning ears, to itchy palms—any abnormal physiological activity could be used to deduce good or bad fortune. To the point that some foolish roe deer would run over to ask about their fortunes simply because they sneezed a few times too many early in the morning. For such mental-patient-like "big shots," if you didn't swindle them, you'd be doing their fathers a disservice.

I returned to my room in a daze and checked my watch: exactly midnight. Qingming had just passed, right at the midnight hour of the transition between days, could I really have encountered something unclean?

My wife was also woken up by me; she picked up a woolen vest and walked over to drape it over my shoulders. "Still not sleeping?"

"I... just now I seemed to see Grandfather... standing right outside the door," I said in a daze.

My wife looked out the pitch-black window. She had been bold since childhood and wasn't scared at all. She smiled and said, "Old man, your eyes are playing tricks on you. Uncle Si just passed away, and you're thinking of the 'Jiangxiang Sect' again..."

Hearing my wife put it that way, I also felt it might have been an illusion.

"Go to sleep," my wife said with concern.

In the dead of night, the wind picked up, blowing fiercely and howling like ghosts and wolves across the town and fields. I curled up under the quilt, vaguely sensing that something was going to happen.

Unable to fall asleep no matter how I tossed and turned, I gazed at my wife's sleeping face, and a surge of sourness gripped my heart. This woman who had walked with me through the better part of my life had married me without a single word of complaint or regret. For decades, she stayed by my side and accompanied me, from a young girl into a middle-aged woman, slowly growing white hairs on her head. We had both grown old, and this, I suppose, was what they called life.

I turned slightly on my side, resting my hand in her hair, and suddenly felt a pang of heartache. I abruptly thought of death. Everyone must die eventually; Grandfather was dead, Damba Si was dead, and at my age—where at seventy you don't guarantee the year, and at eighty you don't guarantee the month—I might die any day now. Where would I go after death? Could I meet this girl again in the next life? Would I meet the "Jiangxiang Sect" again? Meet Grandfather? Meet that group of my brothers? I pulled my wife tightly into my embrace as my thoughts flew back to those days of old.

After the Cultural Revolution began in 1966, the town started holding struggle sessions. The very first person to be denounced was an old scholar in the town who served as the principal of the town middle school. The rebels called him a stinking old intellectual, holding struggle meetings and demanding that he confess. He replied that there was nothing to confess. As a result, a young punk went up and slapped him twice across the face, then grabbed him by the hair and shouted, "You must confess your crimes to everyone!" The old gentleman simply refused to lower his head, so the punk, in a fit of rage, took off his shoe and whipped the old gentleman's face with it, beating him until blood flowed freely.

That punk went by the nickname "Erbanzi" because he had spent a few days learning to play bamboo clappers when he was young, earning him the moniker. Erbanzi was very bold. For a period, the townspeople whispered that ghost fires frequently flickered in the graveyard behind the mountain, and some even saw mountain foxes carrying fireballs running back and forth around dusk, scaring the commune members so much that none of them dared go near the back mountain at night. As a result, this punk got a grenade from the militia company, ran to the graveyard at night, and when he saw a faint blue light indeed glowing, cursed loudly, "Damn your mother!" and directly tossed the grenade into the tomb hollow. With a loud bang, sparks flew in all directions, and bones were scattered everywhere.

People at the time lacked popular scientific knowledge; in fact, these ghost fires were simply calcium phosphide inside the bones of the buried dead reacting with the surrounding environment to turn into phosphine. Many tombs were in disrepair, and once phosphine escaped from the earth's crust and was exposed to the ground, it would spontaneously combust. In the night, the blue flames burned dimly, and people mistook them for ghosts at work.

Later, that same punk extended his demonic claws toward the old scholar's eldest daughter, rallying everyone to denounce a "loose woman." The old gentleman had three daughters and one son. The eldest daughter, whose husband had passed away and who had subsequently started a romance with an educated youth, was slapped with the label of a "loose woman." "Carrying on licentiously" meant being paraded through the streets: two shoes were strung together and hung around the neck, and a large placard was hung on the chest with two characters written on it: "Loose Woman."

The woman was paraded through the streets for two consecutive days, losing all her dignity in front of the watching crowds. When she returned home, washed the spit and stains from her face, put on her wedding dress while her parents were asleep, and hanged herself inside her room. By the time her family discovered her, she had long since stopped breathing, her tongue protruding quite a length.

The old couple wept so bitterly they nearly died. In truth, human hearts are made of flesh; upon learning that the woman had hanged herself, the townspeople all fell silent and no longer wanted to listen to Erbanzi's demagoguery. The Revolutionary Committee also promptly issued a statement: Wage struggle through reasoning, not violence! Do not cause loss of human life! Yet Erbanzi felt not a shred of remorse, clamoring, "The revolution must be thorough! A loose woman like this deserved to die long ago!"

The old gentleman had spent his entire life teaching and educating people, his peach and plum disciples filling the world, yet now he had come to such an end—it was truly heartbreaking! On the day of his daughter's burial, a sudden clap of thunder rang out in the clear sky, dark clouds rolling in from the southeast like ink, followed immediately by a torrential downpour pouring down from the heavens. This rain seemed like it was rushing to attend the girl's desolate funeral, or perhaps like the girl weeping mournfully in the air.

An incident that happened later cast an even more mystical aura over the entire affair.

Several brick-making workers outside the city, returning from work late at night, kept seeing a human figure swaying around the girl's grave mound and heard someone crying, and it was like this for several days running. Later, a few bold commune members went to inspect the graveyard during the day and found nothing out of the ordinary, but as soon as night fell, the figure and the crying would reappear.

When Erbanzi learned of this, he said resentfully, "I don't believe it for a second! I wasn't afraid of you when you were alive, what can you do to me now that you're dead?"

A few days later, one evening just as Erbanzi had finished dinner and was about to go to sleep, he heard someone knocking on his door. Erbanzi asked, "Who is it?"

No one answered from outside; there was only the loud bang, bang of knocking.

Erbanzi threw on his coat, came out to open the door, and the moment he opened it and poked his head outside, he felt something descend from the sky and wrap around his neck. He jumped in fright, and by the light of the lamp, he saw that it was actually a pair of red embroidered shoes! He recognized those shoes—they were the ones worn by the denounced girl before she died. Pale with terror, he screamed, "There's a ghost!"

The next day, people discussed it endlessly. Those shoes had been buried with the girl—many people had seen them—and it must be the girl's wronged spirit coming back to seek out Erbanzi.

What people did not know was that all of this had been directed by an Abao whose conscience had awakened.

It was the night, one week after the girl's death, when I was about to go to sleep and suddenly heard a faint knock on my door. Who could it be at this late hour? I came out to open the door, and to my surprise, it was the denounced old scholar. I was startled; in that kind of environment back then, no one dared approach people undergoing struggle sessions for fear of drawing fire onto themselves.

I glanced behind the old gentleman, saw no one, and invited him into the house.

The old gentleman sat in a chair in silence for a long time before saying, "I heard you used to tell fortunes for people. Can you..."

Hearing this, my face turned pale with fright. "Old gentleman, please don't talk nonsense! Those were just mistakes I made when I was young, and I've already been remolded! Those are feudal superstitions! I am now firmly fighting against feudal superstitions!" I thought he had come to probe me, expose me, and then redeem himself through meritorious service.

The old gentleman said tremblingly, "Don't be afraid, I mean no other harm. If you truly understand fortune-telling, I beg you to calculate for me and see if our whole family can make it past this hurdle! I really don't want to live anymore!" Tears streamed down the old gentleman's face.

I knew the old gentleman had reached the verge of collapse, and my answer might directly affect his life or death. I knew I didn't understand fortune-telling, only knowing a bit of superficial knowledge learned from Grandfather. But Grandfather had once said: "A person's heart cannot be allowed to die. If the heart dies, you are no longer human."

After a long silence, I said, "Old gentleman, I trust you. If you sell me out tomorrow, I'll accept my fate! I know a bit about the Book of Changes and can take a rough look for you."

The old gentleman gave his birth characters, and after pondering for a moment, I said, "You have been having terrible luck these past few years, afflicted by disaster stars and robbery stars, but after these few years pass, it will get better. I can responsibly tell you that your personal fate is extremely good, and your children will achieve great success! You will definitely enjoy a peaceful old age!" This was actually a technique called "inflating" [long], formerly used to swindle people, but now used to save a life. I wanted to give him hope for survival and let him live on with strength.

The old gentleman raised his head and asked half-in-doubt, "There is still a day of seeing the light of day?"

I answered firmly, "Yes! Absolutely!"

The old gentleman relaxed and said, "I dare not hope for great success and wealth; as long as this label of a big counter-revolutionary can be removed from my head, I can die in peace!"

Just as we were talking, a loud bang, bang knocking came from outside. I was startled and stood up, and the old gentleman also trembled in fright.

I quietly walked behind the door and asked softly, "Who is it?"

No one answered. I opened the door, and a figure instantly flashed inside. I saw it was the old gentleman's youngest daughter, Zhang Yingying.

The old gentleman glared angrily and said, "Why are you here? Didn't I tell you all to stay properly at home? You have no manners like a young lady at all!"

Zhang Yingying was a famously sharp-tongued and fierce woman in the town, with a personality like a boy. After her eldest sister hanged herself, she took a kitchen knife and wanted to fight Erbanzi to the death, only being stopped by her family with great effort.

Zhang Yingying said to the old gentleman, "I was worried about you!"

The old gentleman said, "Mr. Liu has said our whole family can pass this tribulation. If we endure a bit longer, things will get better."

Zhang Yingying said dismissively, "Dad, what time is it, and you still believe this! Be careful or you'll have your crimes doubled if someone finds out!"

I smiled helplessly, thinking to myself: How could you possibly understand your old man's state of mind! Looking at this willful girl, I unexpectedly felt a trace of fondness.

The old gentleman said, "Stop talking nonsense!"

Zhang Yingying said, "I'm not talking nonsense! I've already made up my mind! At worst, we die together! Sooner or later, I will avenge my eldest sister!"

The old gentleman flew into a rage. "Get out of here!"

Zhang Yingying cried, "Whenever I think of my eldest sister, my heart aches!"

Hot tears rolled down the old gentleman's face as well.

I thought for a moment and said, "Don't think about revenge anymore; it will only make things worse! Actually, everyone in town knows your eldest sister died unjustly. How about this, I'll come up with a trick to teach that bastard a lesson. But you must keep it absolutely secret, otherwise I'm finished too!"

Thus, I picked up the "papercraft puppetry" arts that I hadn't used in over a decade. I thought to myself, Erbanzi, aren't you fearless and unafraid of anything? This time I'm going to scare you half to death. First, I pasted together a paper figure, propped it up with sorghum stalks, and inserted two sections of bamboo tubes at the joints, drilling several holes into the bamboo. At night, I stuck it onto the top of the woman's grave. When someone rode a bicycle past the roadside, they would think a person was standing there, and coupled with the wind blowing through the bamboo tubes, making a mournful howling sound, people would spread it by word of mouth, assuming someone was crying there. This was creating momentum, letting Erbanzi know that a ghost haunted the place.

Then I had Zhang Yingying fetch a similar pair of embroidered shoes from home, and at midnight, I supported them with two stiff poles on the crossbeam of Erbanzi's front gate, pulling the shoes from afar with a thin string looped around small screws at both ends. Then I knocked on the door, and the moment Erbanzi came out to open it and poked his head out, I pulled the string, and the embroidered shoes plummeted from the sky, landing squarely on that punk's neck.

After this scare, Erbanzi quieted down completely. This terrifying knot was firmly tied in the depths of his heart, and he was never frantic and feral again.

I never expected this matter to bring me good karma. I remember it was a summer evening when Elder Zhang, perhaps seeing the kindness in my heart, quietly called me to his house and said meaningfully to me, "Child, you are a good person."

My heart trembled. A good person? Even I didn't know what kind of person I truly was. Through so many years of storms, ups and downs, I had grown numb.

The old gentleman continued, "I know you served time. But that doesn't mean you're a bad person. My little girl has always been arrogant, picky, and still unmarried. If you don't mind, if you don't mind... I plan to let my youngest daughter..."

"Ah?" I doubted I had heard correctly. "Old gentleman, I... I have nothing, and I've been to prison, poor as a church mouse, you..." After getting out of prison in 1958, I had never dared to dream of marrying and having children.

"I'm just asking if you're willing or not?" the old gentleman pressed on.

"I..." This matter was too sudden. I stammered, "What does your daughter think?"

"I have no objections!" Zhang Yingying lifted the curtain from the inner room and walked out. "You stood up for our whole family..."

I hurriedly said, "No! Those were just minor matters. If it's because of this, there's no need. Besides, we are over a tenth of a year apart in age..."

"Hey? You're even being picky now!" Zhang Yingying said.

"I didn't mean that, I..." I didn't know what to say, thinking to myself: You guys know far too little about me.

After a moment of silence, I said to Zhang Yingying, "Aren't you afraid of people saying you married a convict?"

"Bullshit!" Zhang Yingying said resentfully. "Let them talk!"

I knew she was long sick of worldly gossip, and the drastic changes in her family had affected her deeply.

Elder Zhang said from the side, "I'll make the decision on this; it's settled. Tomorrow I will draw a clear line with the whole family so you won't be implicated!"

During the Cultural Revolution, a biological father "drawing a line" with his biological son was a very common occurrence—a helpless move done for self-preservation with no other choice.

People often say that the "bridal chamber on the wedding night" is one of life's four great joys. On the day of my wedding, I wept. As a man, my wandering half-life had finally found a landing place.

At night, holding Yingying, I asked her what she actually saw in me, and she smiled and said, "Your guts." I thought to myself: If you're an Abao, you can lack anything, but you cannot lack guts.

Half a year later, Yingying's belly grew large. I don't know if it was heaven's favor, but the following year Yingying actually gave birth to a pair of twins, a boy and a girl. People all said that accumulating virtue for three generations of ancestors could result in a pair of twins; I figured it was the residual virtue of my father, my grandfather, and my great-grandfather, because as for me, I had no virtue.

The birth of the children brought me unprecedented happiness, and I felt I was living more and more like a real person. Sometimes I would wake up laughing in my dreams, watching the children grow day by day. When they uttered their first word of "Daddy," I broke down in loud sobs, hugging Yingying and the children tightly to my chest, terrified that this might all be a dream.

In 1976, the Cultural Revolution ended, the clouds cleared and the mists dispersed, my father-in-law was rehabilitated, and my eldest sister-in-law could finally rest in peace in the netherworld.

On New Year's Eve of that year, our entire extended family gathered around the dining table and wept in a complete mess. After crying for a long time, my father-in-law said, "In this lifetime, people shouldn't chase after wealth and honor; just being safe and sound is enough. Peace and safety are true blessings."