It was a very ordinary old man's voice. Slow, heavy, and slightly magnetic. He sounded like just an old man who was at peace with the world. Yet, the more he spoke like that, the more he frightened me.
"Dolly is only twelve years old, still a child. She doesn't know anything about my affairs, and she shouldn't have to pay with her life for it. So I beg you to give her a chance."
After saying this, he leaned back in his chair, as if he didn't want to care about anything anymore. His whole body relaxed, enjoying the precious sunshine.
I remained silent. He considered me a dangerous enemy. Their presence was a natural consequence, and he maintained a high degree of vigilance. Why did he make such preparations? The tapes told me the answer. The old man before me possessed unimaginable decisiveness and ruthlessness, yet also a man of unwavering determination. He had always persevered with unwavering perseverance in his pursuit of his goals. Thinking back on my father's actions over the past few months, wasn't it exactly the same?
I opened my mouth slightly, but not to speak. The anxiety in my body slowly released along the airflow, but was immediately sucked back into my nose, which deepened my fear. But I had to do something, even if it was just to open my mouth.
Holding the tape in my hand felt like holding a scorching iron. A smile suddenly broke out on the old man's face, his head drooping, his back trembling. A suppressed laugh escaped, and sweat seeped into my palms.
"You're not the emperor's lackey, are you?" he said with a playful smile. "I'm curious why you dared to come back." As he spoke, he reached behind his back, his movements smooth and seamless, without a hint of the nervousness of facing a formidable enemy. My silence had given him a deeper understanding of the situation. To remain silent in the face of struggling prey could only be a weaker animal.
I had no chance to communicate. Kill him or be killed. He would do everything in his power to destroy me, regardless of whether I was a threat or not.
The old wooden floorboards creaked under my feet, allowing those with keen ears to determine my location. He was blind. A blind person couldn't use a telescope. I imagined his good student, Dolly, coming down from the treehouse and explaining the beauty of the starry sky. A blind person would surely know how to effectively use their hearing. He would undoubtedly notice me if I walked into the house. Running away wasn't necessarily a wise move, because the hand behind his back reappeared, holding a revolver.
I had to find a way to trick him. I gripped the tape tightly, scanning every corner of the room. He pointed the gun at me, rubbing his eye sockets with his free hand, like a date trying to figure out how to salvage a conversation that had gone cold. I knew this was the final test. The trap was about to close.
"I suppose you've listened to the tape," he said. "What do you think? From your perspective, do you think we did the right thing?"
He used his fingers to lift his eyelids, and the dark green pupils of his glass prosthetic eyes reflected the scene before him, almost like real eyes. Although I knew that the scene in his eyes would not be transmitted to his brain, I still felt my heart skip a beat.
"I've been blind for fourteen years. It's strange how, now that I can't see, my memories are clearer." He raised his index and middle fingers on his hand, the one holding the gun, and then lowered them immediately. I guessed he wanted a cigarette. If my father were here, he'd definitely have one. The image in my mind flipped. Maybe he didn't smoke when Dolly was around.
"When I was in college, Camon and I were close comrades." He looked up, then unexpectedly removed the prosthetic eye from his right eye and put it in his trouser pocket. "He was interested in history and geography, while I was particularly interested in astronomy and biology. Through different lenses, I could see two completely different worlds. He was the same. Reality and history were two different things. There were also many students who believed in nothing, fooling around all day, secretly trading contraband, and everything was distorted and discolored like spilled paint. Camon and I could see that they were determined to oppose the emperor, but they lacked leadership."
He suddenly chuckled dryly, as if to mock himself, and said, "In the end, we lost miserably. Camon always hid behind the scenes, never leaving any trace of his actions. If he had given up his ideals, he could have gotten away with it. In the end, I became a wanted criminal, and he and a group of students were deported to the border. Later I heard that they concealed that history from their descendants, except for Camon. He still wanted to continue, but unfortunately he passed away before today. We endured for so many years, and what we got was nothing but a faint hope."
"Toppling the emperor with this—even I don't think it's possible. But as long as there's hope, we must try. How much do you really know about the war that's just broken out?" The old man stroked the silver-white barrel of the gun with his fingers, his tone as if he was about to drop a bomb. I stared at the wooden floor to my right, concentrating on suppressing the turmoil in my heart. The Camon he was talking about was my grandfather.
"The Tubbers invaded the border, and the Imperial Army bravely resisted. That's what the newspaper said, right? No, it should be only the newspaper in that small town that said that. Fowler knew it was a warning, and it also had an excuse to migrate again." He said, "Everyone outside believed another illusion, that this war was the Empire's counterattack against provocation. But neither of these is true. The Tubbers neither invaded nor provoked. Quite the contrary..."
It was we who invaded Tubbs.
The confrontation took place within a second. Before he could finish his words, I flung the tape to my right. It hit the wooden floor with a remarkably crisp sound. The old man, however, raised his hand and fired two shots to my left. He was prepared, easily seeing through my deliberate noises and knowing I would attack from another direction.
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