Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Photograph

“Things might have gotten a little troublesome, perhaps even a bit complicated. I can't really explain it to you in just a few words. Since you're staying at home lately, you might as well not go to school for now,” I said to Han Xue.

Han Xue was visibly stunned for a moment, but then she forced a smile and replied, “Alright. You take care of yourself.”

Perhaps in Han Xue’s mind, it made sense that the fool went to find her because of that child. That’s why, when Fatty mentioned it, we immediately believed him. After all, aside from that, we couldn’t imagine why a woman who had died twenty years ago would come to haunt a kind-hearted teacher who had only been in the village for two years. So Han Xue then asked, “Shouldn’t she leave once you return the child to her?”

“That’s how it should have been, but the child was the wrong one. We were all deceived. But the situation is too complicated—I really can’t tell you more right now,” I said, looking at Han Xue.

She glanced at me and said, “Didn’t you always say you hated it when your big brother only told you half the story? Don’t you realize you’re doing the same thing now?”

Her words made me feel a little embarrassed. I’d complained to Han Xue about this more than once. Yet it was precisely what she just said that made any lingering resentment I had toward my brother vanish completely.

Why was I unwilling to tell Han Xue? Because I worried about her, wanted to protect her; I’d shoulder whatever burdens I could. And why didn’t my brother want to tell me everything? For exactly the same reason.

I looked at Han Xue, unsure what to say. She smiled softly, hugged my arm, and said, “I’m not blaming you. I understand how you feel. Since you’d do the same, you should try to be more understanding toward your big brother.”

I nodded, “Yes, I understand.”

After dinner, Fatty and I made plans to meet Tang Renjie the next day. Both of us are the type who suffer from incurable curiosity—if we don’t know the whole story, there’s no way we can eat or sleep in peace. That night passed quietly. Early the next morning, I took Fatty to town on my electric scooter. I’d bought it the year I graduated, and it’d been with me for over two years. It was fine when I rode alone, but with Fatty on the back, the bottom scraped constantly, making for a rough journey. After we reached town, I parked the scooter and we got on a minibus to the city.

Upon arriving in Luoyang, I called Tang Renjie. He said, “Brother Ye, just wait there. I’ll send someone to pick you up. I've already reserved a private room at Xinghua Tower. We’ll talk more when you get here.”

About half an hour later, a Mercedes pulled up in front of us. The man who got out looked familiar. After a moment, I realized he’d been with Tang Renjie when they sought out my brother—his secretary. Last time, he hadn’t spoken very kindly, but this time he was all politeness. We got in the car, and the ride was smooth and steady—four wheels really can’t be compared to two. It must have been an auspicious day, as we passed many wedding processions along the way. When we arrived at Xinghua Tower, it seemed there was a wedding there too—luxury cars filled the lot. The bespectacled secretary turned and apologized, “Sorry, gentlemen. My boss has an important guest today. He said he’ll be here within half an hour. The private room is ready upstairs. Shall we go up?”

I nodded. As comfortable as the car was, we couldn’t just sit there. After getting out, we walked to the hotel entrance, where I suddenly stopped dead in my tracks upon seeing the photo hanging by the door. I couldn’t believe such a coincidence could exist in this world, but just as in those melodramatic novels, the bride at today’s wedding in Xinghua Tower was my college girlfriend, Cheng Xiaoyu—the one who, after visiting my home, handed me the “nice guy” card and ended my first love.

“What’s wrong?” Fatty noticed my expression and asked.

“Nothing.” I smiled. Years had passed; I was no longer the naive boy who sank into months of gloom after she broke up with me.

As luck would have it, just then the wedding cars stopped at the hotel entrance. I turned and watched the newlyweds walk hand-in-hand from the car. The heavy makeup in the wedding photo had left me uncertain, but seeing her in person, I was sure—it was her. Perhaps my gaze lingered on the bride too long, because Fatty asked, “What is it? Do you know the bride?”

I forced a smile. “Ex-girlfriend.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Fatty chuckled.

“Let’s go,” I said with a smile. Honestly, I’d almost forgotten about her. If not for this chance encounter, I probably wouldn’t have thought of her again.

We waited in the private room for more than ten minutes before Tang Renjie entered, his face full of cordiality. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Here, let’s each drink three cups as an apology.”

After we clinked glasses, Fatty immediately picked up his chopsticks and began to eat. His rotund figure was clearly the result of his appetite. “Tang Renjie, whatever business you have, discuss it with Brother Thief. I’ve been in the village for days and my taste buds are dying. I’m going to eat first!”

Tang Renjie laughed. “Fatty, you’re truly a man of genuine temperament.”

I didn’t touch my chopsticks. Honestly, if Fatty weren’t here and I had to face Tang Renjie alone, I, a small village official, would feel a lot of pressure. I watched him, thoughts swirling, not knowing where to start.

“Is the food not to your liking? Shall I have them bring another table?” Tang Renjie asked.

I shook my head. “Boss Tang, I've been so restless lately because of all that’s happened. Let’s get straight to the point, or I won’t have any appetite.”

Tang Renjie’s smile faded; he nodded, then pulled out a box from his pocket—a finely crafted one, like those meant for precious jewels. He set it on the table and slid it over. “Take a look at this first.”

I was curious—surely Tang Renjie wouldn’t give me jewelry right after meeting? With a sense of mystery, I opened the box and found inside a photograph.

It was an old, yellowing photograph, the kind from two or three decades ago. Two young men stood close together, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, grinning broadly and showing their white teeth.

In an instant, I recognized one of them—my father. There’s a black-and-white photo of him at home, enlarged from his ID card. The other man looked very familiar too. On closer inspection, it was Tang Renjie himself, though much younger and more innocent-looking.

I stared at Tang Renjie in shock. He nodded at me, gestured for me to look at the back of the photo. I turned it over and saw a line of beautiful penmanship: “From Ye Tianhua to Tang Renjie—May our friendship last forever.”

The date was May 13, 1994.

I studied the photo carefully. I’m no expert, but I couldn’t tell if it was real or digitally composed. With today’s technology, it’s not hard to fake and age a photo like this, but there are always subtle clues. This one, however, was flawless—no sign of manipulation at all.

“It’s real,” Tang Renjie said.

I wanted to ask how he knew my father, but he stopped me with a gesture. “Pay attention to the date your father wrote.”

I had been so focused on the photo itself I hadn’t noticed the date. But, prompted by his words, I looked and immediately understood.

My father died on June 13, 1994.

I couldn’t possibly remember that wrong.

Which meant this photograph was given to Tang Renjie exactly one month before my father died.

“The photo was probably taken in 1993. I have another one from the same place; we took two pictures. This one’s mine,” Tang Renjie continued, handing me another photo.

Same background, same clothes—this time they were both wearing sunglasses, the style popular in that era, striking cool poses for the camera.

“Your father, Ye Tianhua, and I were comrades-in-arms and good friends. On the day he wrote that inscription, he came to see me and gave me the photo. Back then, it wasn’t so easy to keep in touch. I later went south, and when I returned, I heard your father had died—a bitter, tragic death,” Tang Renjie said.