Chapter Thirty-Seven: Helplessness

If my mother had told me that the family to whom my eldest brother was given wasn’t close to my grandfather, or that their relationship was just ordinary, I wouldn’t be so troubled. The problem is, my mother said that the old man who came to take away my brother back then might have been my grandfather’s closest friend—almost a soulmate. This was evident from the way they drank together; all these years at home, I’d only known my grandfather to smoke heavily, never realizing he drank at all.

There’s a saying: “A thousand cups of wine are too few when shared with a kindred spirit.” For a man who doesn’t drink to become intoxicated with another, that person must be a true friend.

In Fatty’s words, if the art of the Water Ghosts is considered a craft, then it’s a hereditary one, passed down within families. That would mean my brother, being a Water Ghost, and not just any Water Ghost but the King among them, must have been adopted by a family of Water Ghosts as well.

Did Grandfather know this?

With such a close friendship, Grandfather must have known what they did for a living.

So I can’t imagine why, knowing full well what that family was, Grandfather would still send my brother to them. If they were simply ordinary craftsmen, it would be easier to understand. In those days, learning a trade meant a lifetime of security, and many people would send their children to learn carpentry, the suona, or flower-making. But this craft—this was the Water Ghost’s trade.

Not only does it require eating the flesh of drowned corpses from a young age, which twists one’s character as they grow, but the fate after death is also one of utter misery.

What kind of heart must a grandfather have to send his eldest grandson to such suffering?

Even Fatty said that to become a King among Water Ghosts, surviving the trial of eating drowned flesh as a child alone is something that claims the lives of countless children.

So I can’t imagine, when my brother was sent away at age three, if he had died from eating that flesh, how would Grandfather have felt?

What’s even harder to imagine is, when my brother was forced to eat that flesh, what did he think of the grandfather who had arranged this fate with his own hands?

I remembered the conversation between my brother and Grandfather when he returned that day, and my brother’s attitude toward our family ever since. I realized, in truth, my brother felt distant from us.

I smoked several cigarettes, feeling increasingly miserable the more I thought about it. Yet I felt unusually clear-headed, not irrational as before. Deep down, I knew my suspicions were true; Grandfather had indeed pushed my brother into the fire when he was just three. But I couldn’t believe that a grandfather could truly consign his eldest grandson to such a fate. Even though Grandfather had never shown me much affection, and was indifferent even after my brother returned, I attributed it all to the dullness of age and that unique rural inability to express love.

I stood up. I needed to confront Grandfather. If it was true, then this family could never repay what they owed my brother.

I left the room. My mother was already busy in the kitchen after hanging out the laundry, and Grandfather was still there, puffing on his tobacco pipe. When he saw me, he turned his head once more, wearing that same unfamiliar expression.

I walked over and helped him pack tobacco into his pipe, then rolled a cigarette, lit it, and took a puff—only to cough violently. The tobacco Grandfather smoked was really just our local toadgrass; it hardly tasted like tobacco at all. Smoking it was like a knife slicing through your lungs, through your organs, all the way down to your feet; even your soles would feel the burn.

Yet it was this scorching sensation that brought clarity.

I stifled my cough and, not daring to meet Grandfather’s eyes, spoke softly, “Grandpa, I only learned today that the reason my brother became so formidable after returning is because he was a Water Ghost. It’s a profession, and to become as strong as he is, he must have endured countless hardships and near-death experiences, only to meet a miserable end even after all that.”

I didn’t ask directly, but if Grandfather knew, he would understand what I meant.

He took a drag on his pipe and nodded. “I know.”

I truly hadn’t expected him to be so frank. I looked up at him. “Grandpa, you knew?”

He nodded again, still not looking at me. His clouded old eyes gazed into the distance, lost in thought.

“You knew, yet you still sent him? He’s your eldest grandson. In the old days, his status would have been higher than mine. Don’t tell me that suffering builds character—I won’t believe it.”

“It’s better than dying here.” Grandfather tapped out his pipe, trembling as he stood up.

“Grandpa?” I asked, not knowing what he was about to do.

“It’s nothing. I’m going to rest for a while.” He gave me a small smile and went inside. I knew he didn’t want to say more, or perhaps he had already said all he needed to.

Just then, my mother came out of the kitchen, her eyes red as if she’d been crying. She looked at me and said, “Yezi, don’t blame your grandfather. When we sent your brother away, I knew everything. But your father died so suddenly—we were terrified! If we hadn’t sent your brother to that family, I was afraid he’d die too!”

With that, she squatted down, buried her head in her arms, and wept.

I walked over and helped her up. “Don’t cry, Mom. I was just curious, that’s all. Hearing this now, I understand. I was just thinking, if I were in your place, what would I have done? But thinking about Dad’s death, I realize I’d have done the same. My brother is so smart; I’m sure he understands your reasons and won’t blame you.”

Still, she continued to cry. I held her in my arms, and after a while, she looked up and said, “I don’t care if your brother blames me. I just don’t want anything to happen to the two of you. It was I who asked Zhuzi to stop you, to keep you from investigating. Your dad is already gone. I don’t want this to take you both as well. I know you must have found something, otherwise you wouldn’t be asking. Please, just let it go—for my sake.”

“Mom, you know how Dad died, don’t you? You know who killed him, don’t you?” Suddenly, I realized that perhaps my father’s death was never a mystery. My mother and Grandfather both knew who did it! The reason they never said anything was out of fear of revenge. And it was exactly because of this fear that they sent my brother away!

“Don’t ask. I know nothing and will never say anything. Son, you’re twenty-three this year, but did you know your father was only twenty-five when he died?” With that, she pushed me away, rushed into her room, and locked herself in. I could hear her sobbing from inside.

I stood in the courtyard, my heart heavy as lead.

But alongside the heaviness, there was burning hatred.

The one who killed my father wanted to kill my brother too, and for twenty years, kept both my grandfather and mother living in terror. Clenching my teeth, I swore, “No matter who you are, I will find you!”

As I walked back inside, I glanced at Grandfather’s room and saw him standing by the window, watching me. A pane of his window was broken, and through it, I saw the clouded eyes that had witnessed a lifetime of hardship.

No matter how much I hated the murderer, I could never truly comprehend the agony my grandfather felt at losing his son, or my mother’s grief at losing her husband.

Some pain, unless you’ve lived through it, you’ll never understand.

—

I went back to my room and lay down on the bed, drifting off to sleep without realizing it. It wasn’t until Han Xue woke me that I came to. She pinched me and said, “So, how does it feel sleeping in my bed?”

“It’s the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in,” I replied, stretching with a smile. There’s a saying that the one you love can relax you more quickly than anything else. That’s how Han Xue is for me. I’ve been overwhelmed these past few days, but as soon as I see her—especially her playful look—all that pressure vanishes.

“So, you get the bed and I get the sofa?” Han Xue blinked.

“No way. Let’s sleep together,” I joked.

“In your dreams! Get up, dinner’s ready. By the way, how did that matter turn out?” she asked.

I opened my mouth, not knowing how to answer.

Han Xue was definitely asking about the fool’s case.