Chapter 92 Old Ballad
When her cold fingertips touched the rough edge of the yellow paper, Sun Juan suddenly retracted her hand as if she had been burned. The only sound in the office was her rapid heartbeat, which was particularly clear in the empty silence.
On the table, the paper with the words "The bluestone road is stained with blood" written on it was like a glaring wound. Next to it were a few selected pieces of old paper with relatively "gentle" handwriting. The small booklet made of yellow paper wrapped in rags was like a heavy, cold secret that made her breathless.
The few light words Director Wang said before he left - "true appearance" and "historical value" - now seemed like hooks, stirring repeatedly in her mind. He must know, know this booklet, and even know the bloody contents inside.
He was just testing her to see if she, Sun Juan, had the courage to bring out this shameful thing.
A chill ran up from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. Sun Juan stared at the rag bag. The scene of Wang hitting her head against the pillar and blood splattering everywhere flashed before her eyes uncontrollably. The cold and strange tune of the ballad seemed to ring in her ears again... It was too scary.
She wanted to throw this hot potato back into the deepest corner of the warehouse, or even burn it. But...but what about Wang's injustice? What about the tearful accusations in the ballad? Should she just let it never see the light of day?
Qiuyue's face appeared in front of her eyes. She was a cultured person who had been admitted to university, knowledgeable and sensible. Her parents were both university professors. She was the most knowledgeable person Sun Juan knew. Perhaps... perhaps only Qiuyue could understand all this and give an explanation to this old story?
But what if it gets into trouble if I send it out? Director Wang’s look…Sun Juan shuddered.
No! I can’t send the original! It’s too risky!
Sun Juan gritted her teeth and made up her mind. She quickly scanned the old-fashioned filing cabinets in the office. No! It's too conspicuous.
Director Wang has the key to the locked drawer... Her eyes finally fell on a pile of dusty expired newspapers stacked against the wall. Her heart was pounding like a drum. She quickly stuffed the rag bag deep into the interlayer of one of the bundles of newspapers, tucked it in carefully, and put a few thick old magazines on top of it. After doing all this, she pressed her chest and let out a long sigh, but the string in her heart was still taut.
After temporarily dealing with the biggest hidden danger, Sun Juan calmed down and spread out the letter paper. She had to write a letter to Qiuyue. She picked up the pen and carefully considered the words:
"Sister Qiuyue:
Hello! How are you doing in Beijing? Counting the days, Huahua and Shuangshuang should be even cuter now. I'm pretty much familiar with this place now. The work at the Cultural Center is quite mundane. They recently said they were going to sort out the old items in the warehouse and clear out the junk left over from the 'Four Olds,' so I was assigned to rummage through those old piles of papers. And hey, you know what, I actually found something 'interesting!'
Having written this, Sun Juan paused, deliberately omitting the gloomy atmosphere of the warehouse and Director Wang's concern.
"They're some ballads and fragmentary records handed down from long ago, written on yellow paper. They've been so old that many of the words have become blurred, and the paper is so brittle it crumbles at the slightest touch. I found them quite curious, and remembering your last letter about wanting to see some old ballads and such, perhaps I could glean some insights. So I picked out a few pages that were still decipherable, copied them down, and sent them to you (the originals are too brittle to send, for fear they'd break on the way). They're all country folk songs with strange accents, and I have no idea what they mean. Just treat them as a novelty."
She carefully avoided the most horrifying phrases such as "the bluestone road is stained with blood," "the wronged souls cry at night," and "blood splatters three feet." She only copied the contents of the selected fragments and a few relatively vague lines from the ballad: "...the ancestral hall is high, the elders of the clan laugh...", "...where can I find justice? At the bottom of the clear river, the stones nod..."
While copying, her hands were still shaking a little, and she always felt that Director Wang's footsteps would be heard outside the corridor at any time.
As soon as the lunch bell rang, Sun Juan was like being pardoned. She immediately folded the copied letter paper and the few pieces of yellow paper fragments that served as "real objects", stuffed them into the envelope and sealed it tightly. She put the letter in her pocket, walked out of the cultural center quickly, and went straight to the post office in the town.
The afternoon sun was shining brightly, and it felt warm on her body, but Sun Juan always felt a chill on her back, as if a pair of eyes were staring at her in the dark. She looked back frequently, but only saw pedestrians and bicycles hurrying on the street.
The green paint on the post office counter was peeling, and Sun Juan waited in line, feeling a wave of anxiety. When it was her turn, she specifically requested registered mail, spending a few cents more just for the security of a receipt.
When filling in the return address, she hesitated for a moment, but still wrote "Qinghe County Cultural Center" neatly and sent it to Comrade Gu Qiuyue of Jingcheng University.
Walking out of the post office holding the thin registered mail receipt, Sun Juan finally felt relieved. The letter had been sent. Sister Qiuyue was so smart that she would definitely be able to see something. As for that fatal booklet... she hid it well, so it should be fine.
As I walked to the door of the cultural center, a familiar figure walked out, holding the enamel pot in his hand.
"Hey, Xiao Sun, you're back? Did you go out to mail a letter?" Director Wang greeted with a smile, and his eyes behind the glasses inadvertently swept over Sun Juan's empty hands.
Sun Juan's heart skipped a beat, but she forced a smile on her face: "Yes, Director, I just went to the post office to mail something."
"Oh?" Director Wang stepped closer, his tone casual, as if chatting, "It's addressed to... Comrade Gu Qiuyue, the 'great writer' in Beijing, right?"
These words were like a small stone dropped into the lake of her heart. The smile on Sun Juan's face froze instantly, and the color faded a little. How could he know so clearly?!
She could only nod stiffly: "Yes... yes, Director."
Director Wang's smile deepened, appearing especially "kind." He leaned closer, his voice lowered, his tone sincere yet unquestionable, "Xiao Sun, it's a good thing you have this in mind. You want to provide more inspiration to your writing friends. It's very encouraging."
He changed the subject, his tone becoming more earnest. "However, the old stories and old rules of Qinghe County are very complicated. Some things are difficult to distinguish true from false over the years. If they were to be spread out and seen by people outside who don't know the truth, they would make unfounded assumptions and exaggerate things, which would easily lead to unnecessary misunderstandings and have a bad impact!"
If it affects the reputation of our cultural center, or even the stability and unity of the county, that would be terrible, wouldn't you say?"
He patted Sun Juan's shoulder gently, with such force that half of Sun Juan's body felt numb.
"So," Director Wang's eyes sharpened behind his glasses. "When you finish transcribing those ballads and old story fragments you compiled, please remember to show them to me first. After all, I've been working at the cultural center for so many years, so I can at least help you check which ones are worthy of public display and which ones...it's best to let them continue to 'rest' in the storage. This is also a responsibility to you and your friend. We can't give her those unrealistic things."
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