Chapter 91 Old Background

Suddenly, a booklet bound with yellow paper caught her attention.

This paper seemed tougher than the others. Although the edges were badly damaged, the ink on it was relatively clear. She picked it up carefully, blew off the dust, and turned it over.

The words inside were in vertical traditional Chinese characters, which was a bit difficult for Sun Juan to recognize. The first few pages seemed to record some village rules and regulations and sacrificial procedures, which were very boring. She patiently turned the pages, and her fingertips were covered with black ash.

Turning to the middle page, a few lines of handwriting circled in red suddenly caught her eye. The handwriting was more sloppy and forceful than the others. With a strong emotion, Sun Juan's heartbeat inexplicably accelerated. She moved closer to the flashlight, squinting her eyes and trying to decipher:

"...On the twenty-third day of the winter month of the Gengzi year, the clan elders met in the ancestral hall. Zhou Laosan pointed to the heavens and swore that he had not stolen the sacrificial silver, yet the silver bag was indeed found in his woodshed... The crowd was dissatisfied and wanted to enforce family law. His wife, Wang, was a fierce woman and struck her head against a pillar to demonstrate her resolve, spilling blood three feet deep...Alas! Was it an injustice? Was it a sin?..."

Sun Juan's hand trembled violently, and the booklet almost fell out of her hand. A chill ran up her spine.

Wang... banging her head against the pillar to show her determination... blood splattered three feet... These words were like thorns, piercing her eyes and causing pain. Blurred images flashed through her mind uncontrollably.

When I was a child, I listened to the old people telling stories, and they vaguely mentioned the unjust and tragic events that happened to some big families in Qinghe County in the early years, but they were not very detailed. Could it be... that this was one of them?

She suppressed the throbbing in her heart and continued to flip through the pages. There seemed to be some subsequent records recorded intermittently at the end. The handwriting was even more sloppy and chaotic, mixed with some incomprehensible symbols and curse words.

The last few pages looked like a few incomplete folk songs. The handwriting was blurred and only some fragments could be barely recognized:

"...The bluestone pavement is stained with blood, and the wronged souls cry endlessly every night..."

"...The ancestral hall is high, the elders laugh, and the blame is put on the back..."

"...Where can I find justice? At the bottom of the clear river, the stones nod..."

The tune of the ballad, as if carrying a cold curse, echoed silently in the silent and gloomy warehouse.

Sun Juan felt the hairs on her back stand on end, and the flashlight beam seemed to tremble slightly with her hand. How could this be just an ordinary "old story"? This was clearly a bloody past, an accusation of an injustice that had not been redressed.

At this moment, a slight rustling sound came from the shadow in the corner, as if something was crawling. Sun Juan was so scared that she screamed "Ah" and swept the flashlight over suddenly. She saw a fat rat "whoosh" and dived into the deep of the pile of debris, leaving several fresh claw marks.

It was a false alarm, but Sun Juan's heart was pounding like a drum. She gasped for air, realizing cold sweat had formed on her forehead. She looked at the yellow-paper pamphlet in her hand; it felt incredibly hot. Could I send this to Qiuyue? Would it cause trouble? Director Wang was suddenly interested in this "junk." Could he...know something?

She hesitated and wanted to put the book back, but the bloody words and strange song fragments lingered in her mind.

Finally, she gritted her teeth, carefully pulled out the booklet separately, and wrapped it with a relatively clean rag. Sister Qiuyue was an educated person with broad knowledge, and perhaps she could understand the ins and outs of it. As for the other ballads, she also picked out a few relatively complete and less scary fragments of yellow paper, ready to copy them together.

She held these things like hot potatoes, walked out of the warehouse quickly, and closed the heavy door tightly, as if to lock back the coldness and secrets inside.

Returning to her seat, she pushed the script manuscript aside, spread out a clean piece of paper, and prepared to copy the song fragment first.

Just as I copied down the line "The bluestone pavement was stained with blood", the office door was pushed open again.

Director Wang came back, this time holding an enamel jug in his hand, as if to refill the water, but his eyes fell precisely on the conspicuous yellow papers on Sun Juan's desk, and the object wrapped in rags next to her hand, which was obviously in the shape of a book.

"Hey, Xiao Sun, you're pretty quick." Director Wang strolled over. His tone sounded casual, but his eyes were scrutinizing. "So you're sorting through those old items already? Found anything interesting?"

His gaze lingered on the rag bag for a moment.

Sun Juan's heart skipped a beat, and she subconsciously used her elbow to block the paper of the ballad she was copying. She put on a smile and said, "No, nothing special, just some old ballads. The words are hard to read. I'm just trying to copy them down."

She deliberately made her tone light, as if it was really just something not worth mentioning.

Director Wang said "Oh" and took a sip of water, but his eyes did not move away.

"Folk songs... they're also part of folk culture. Copy them carefully and show them to me when you're done. Our cultural center really needs to sort out these old collections." He paused, his tone taking on a subtle hint of meaning. "Especially those... well, those that reflect the 'true face' of Qinghe County in the past. Maybe they have some historical value, don't you think?"

His last words, "true appearance" and "historical value", were like two pebbles, accurately hitting the "Blood Splattered Three Feet" and "The Wail of the Wronged Souls at Night" that Sun Juan had just watched. She felt a chill running up from the soles of her feet, and the smile on her face that she tried hard to maintain became a little stiff.

"Yes, yes, the director is right." She responded vaguely, her palms slightly sweating.

Director Wang seemed satisfied with her reaction and nodded. He did not ask about the contents of the rag bag. He just reminded her again, "Hurry up with the script, Comrade Sun. You have to take care of both ends." After that, he slowly walked away with the jar.

Sun Juan was the only one left in the office. She looked at the pages of copied strange ballads on the table, then at the yellow paper booklet wrapped in rags that seemed to smell of blood, and finally her eyes fell on the direction where Director Wang left.

The "old story" that Qiuyue wanted seemed to be much heavier and darker than she had imagined, and Director Wang's seemingly ordinary concern and reminder now sounded like a thin layer of window paper, as if there was some kind of secretive temptation hidden behind it.

How much does he really know? What "historical value" does he want?

The script "The Lights of Liushu Village" was still waiting for her to light up the light of a new life, but the old things found in the warehouse were like a thick shadow that could not be dissolved, quietly covering her with the heavy past and unsettling atmosphere.

Sun Juan clenched the pen in her hand, her fingertips were cold. What she was copying was a dusty ballad, or... the accusation of an innocent soul that should not be disturbed?