Chapter Forty-Six: Third Grandfather Has Passed Away

“Miss Han?” I called softly. In truth, I used the title out of sheer awkwardness and nerves, uncertain what to say—calling her Han Xue felt too formal, while addressing her as Xue’er was far too intimate. Yet, uttering “Miss Han” gave me a peculiar thrill. When she didn’t respond, I assumed she had fallen asleep.

Quietly, I sat by the bedside. To claim I wasn’t nervous would be a lie, and to say my heart wasn’t stirred would be another. Yet, once I settled onto the bed, all stray thoughts faded away, leaving only tranquility. Between possessing her and preserving the beauty between us, I chose the latter. In my heart, Han Xue was like a pure, white lotus—I could not bear to stain it with even a trace of impurity.

I lay down, gently embracing her. As my arm wrapped around her, I felt her trembling.

“Still awake?” I asked in a whisper.

“No,” she replied, her voice barely audible.

I lifted her head and placed it on my arm. This posture made me feel more at ease. Then, murmuring in her ear, I said, “Don’t be afraid, dear. I know my limits. Just holding you like this is enough for me. Sleep now.”

She shifted, snuggling into my embrace. “Mm,” she replied.

That night, enveloped in the scent of Han Xue, I slept soundly. The next morning, still lost in sleep, Han Xue shook me awake. “You should get out. If Auntie gets up and finds you not on the sofa, we’re done for.”

With that, she lightly slapped my crotch and teased, “You can’t even behave while sleeping, you rascal!”

I was about to protest, but she kissed my forehead and whispered, “Be good. Thank you. I knew I wasn’t wrong about you.”

What more could I say after that? Reluctantly, I dragged myself to the sofa. Not long after, my mother got up, and soon after, the sounds of activity outside began. My mother always rose early, making breakfast for us before heading out to tend the fields.

I suddenly realized how peaceful these days were.

But just then, a call from Chen Qingshan came in, accompanied by the noisy voices of villagers outside. When I answered, Chen Qingshan’s voice was so loud it nearly deafened me: “Come to the school! Uncle has died!”

“What?!” I was stunned. Just last night, I’d seen Uncle laughing and chatting with the other elders—how could he possibly be dead?

My mother entered, saying, “Yezi, you’d better go check. I hear people outside saying something happened to your uncle.”

I was already up. “Yes, the village chief just called me. I’ll go take a look. How could he suddenly die?”

Our commotion startled Han Xue, who appeared. “Are you going to check? I’ll come too!”

I glanced at her nightdress—how had I not noticed how alluring it was last night? I said, “Go change your clothes, we’ll go together.”

When Han Xue and I arrived at the school, the place was already crowded. I pulled her through the throng, and upon seeing Uncle’s condition, I quickly turned and drew Han Xue into my arms, pressing her head against my chest. “Don’t look. Back out!”

“What’s going on?” she whispered.

“Just don’t look. Trust me.” I nudged her toward the crowd; she seemed to sense what was happening and quietly stood aside.

I didn’t want her to see—because the scene was simply too horrific.

Uncle was hanging from the door frame of Han Xue’s dormitory. I’d heard before that there are many ways to die, but hanging is the most gruesome. I’d never experienced it firsthand, but now I did. Uncle’s eyes bulged, his tongue protruded long, and his face bore an indescribable hue.

I stepped forward. Chen Qingshan and several village committee members were already there. I asked, “Why haven’t you taken Uncle down?”

“We’ve called the police. They said not to disturb the scene,” Chen Qingshan replied, his eyes red.

“How could this happen? He was fine last night!” Though I’d felt some resentment toward Uncle for obstructing us, it was minor. Uncle was still a respected elder. To see him die like this was painful, especially for Chen Qingshan, who had always looked up to him.

I patted Chen Qingshan’s shoulder. “Stay strong. The police will find the culprit.”

“If they do, I’ll tear them to pieces!” Chen Qingshan said, his eyes bloodshot, teeth clenched.

As we spoke, Fatty squeezed through the crowd. Upon seeing the scene, he was startled. “What happened here?!”

“No idea,” I replied.

Fatty walked over, examined Uncle, then circled the body to peer inside. When he returned, his face had changed. “This is bad. Something’s been dug up.”

“What?!” The events of this morning shocked me. No one had dared to look past the body, so Fatty was the first to notice something amiss.

“There’s a hole dug in the ground,” Fatty said.

“Stop pretending! You two killed him! You wanted to dig up the Feng Shui point of the Chen family, and when Uncle disagreed, you murdered him!” shouted Chen Ergou.

“What did you say?” I glared at Chen Ergou.

“Uncle said that night you two harbored ill intentions, but I never imagined you’d dare to kill him. Folks, Uncle was always kind to everyone—who would hurt him? Remember how Ye Jihuan and this Fatty wanted to dig this place up a few days ago?” Chen Ergou shouted.

His words stirred the crowd, and suddenly I felt as if I’d become the murderer. Fatty’s temper flared; he pointed at Chen Ergou and yelled, “If you keep spouting nonsense, I’ll rip your tongue out!”

“Try touching me! Folks, tie up these two murderers!” Chen Ergou shouted.

At that moment, Chen Qingshan rushed over and slapped Chen Ergou to the ground, cursing, “Shut your damn mouth! Who do you think you are? Before the police arrive, anyone who says another word will answer to me!”

Chen Qingshan commanded respect in the village. Everyone was just speculating, caught up in Chen Ergou’s accusations, but who would really believe I’d kill Uncle over a dispute? The crowd fell silent. Soon, a police car arrived, and three officers got out. They were shocked by the scene but acted professionally, cordoning off the area, taking photos, and a detective in a white coat began examining Uncle’s body.

In the end, Uncle’s body was placed in a body bag. Chen Qingshan and several committee members approached the police. Chen Qingshan asked, “Officer, I’m the head of Fudigou Village. What do you think?”

“From the signs, it looks like suicide—no signs of struggle. He used a mosquito net. But the forensic team will confirm,” replied a tall, thin officer.

“Officer, please investigate thoroughly. Uncle would never commit suicide. He was respected and happy—how could he take his own life?” Chen Qingshan pleaded.

“I understand your feelings, but we must follow the evidence,” the officer replied.

“Evidence? There was something in this room that Uncle was guarding, and now it’s been dug up. Uncle was hanged. Does this count as evidence? Proof of murder?” Chen Qingshan pressed.

“A hole in the room? Something inside? What was it?” The officer sensed this might be the motive and quickly took out his notebook.

“This was the Feng Shui point of the Chen family in Fudigou. Inside was the ancestral dragon-head stele, and…” Chen Qingshan hesitated.

“And what else?” the officer asked.

“There was also a dead child,” Chen Qingshan replied awkwardly.

“A dead child?” the officer repeated, his face filled with confusion.