Chapter 9: Bloody
The sound of cicadas tore through the twilight. Xue Han used gun oil to paint the reflection of the window frame of his third sister's house on the glass.
Xu Yao squatted beside the roots of the locust tree, watching the moonlight coating his knuckles with a layer of silver, and suddenly remembered that in his previous life, when Niuniu pestered him to listen to Wang Er's stories, these hands had used bullet shells to fold a spinning tin frog for her.
"The tip of the wolf-hair brush is dipped in dog blood." Xue Han suddenly spoke, and the kettle knocked against the tree roots with a dull sound. "Accountant Sun went to the commune to deliver the account books yesterday. He rode the Phoenix brand that my third sister brought as a dowry."
Xu Yao's hand holding the half red rope trembled, and the copper coin fell into the pile of rotten leaves.
Amid the swaying shadows of the trees, two figures suddenly flashed past the back window of her third sister's house. She recognized Sun Zhiqiang's pair of work pants that were washed so white that they were almost bleached - in his previous life, he always said that these were a gift from a co-worker as a last-ditch gift to him, but it turned out that there was a shameful secret hidden under each patch.
Xue Han suddenly pulled off the belt buckle and buckled it around her waist. When the cold copper buckle touched her waist, Xu Yao heard a whimper like a wild cat biting from the direction of the threshing ground.
Behind the haystack twenty steps away, the silver hairpin on the third sister's hair was hooked on the pocket of Sun Zhiqiang's Zhongshan suit, pulling out half a piece of kraft paper with a red stamp of the commune.
"Brother Han, the rice on the paper..." Xu Yao's mouth was covered as soon as she opened her mouth. The smell of saltpeter mixed with peach crumbs from Xue Han's palm made her eyelashes tremble.
The sound of conversation mixed with frog croaking from ten meters away floated over, and the third sister's thousand-layer soup base suddenly crushed a few golden rice husks.
When Sun Zhiqiang pulled back the corner of his clothes, the moonlight just happened to illuminate the scabbed bite marks on his wrist: "If the anonymous letter is burned, there will be no evidence, but the wolf hair brush you used to draw gold..." He suddenly lowered his voice, and half of the red rope suddenly shook out from the cuffs of the third sister's cuffs embroidered with lotus flowers, and together with the broken piece on Xu Yao's wrist, they looked like twin lotus flowers.
Xu Yao's nails dug deeply into the bark of the locust tree, and the sap mixed with memories of her past life seeped into the joints between her bones.
At that time, Niu Niu had a high fever and was talking nonsense. She clutched a half-broken red rope and insisted on waiting for the peach cakes bought by her father. However, Sun Zhiqiang stayed at his third sister's house all night, saying that the orphans of the martyrs needed more care.
Xue Han suddenly stuffed a piece of peach cake into her mouth, and the sweet aroma dissipated the bloody smell.
He took out a palm-sized black box, and the red light looked like a dying charcoal fire in the night.
Only then did Xu Yao realize that her third sister always poked the ground with a silver hairpin when she spoke, and every time she poked, the frog croaking in the direction of the threshing ground became three points weaker.
"...If you want to blame someone, just blame Xu Yao for having a tough life." The third sister suddenly raised her voice, and her silver hairpin scratched the blood scab on Sun Zhiqiang's Adam's apple. "Back then you said she was unlucky for her parents, but I didn't expect she wouldn't be able to kill them..." The silver bracelet on her wrist hit the trunk of the locust tree, startling the roosting birds and flying over Xue Han's shoulder.
Xu Yao stood up suddenly, and locust flowers fell all over her shoulders.
When Xue Han pulled her, the buckle of her clothes bounced open, and the copper buckle hit the pottery jar at the feet of the third sister, which startled Sun Zhiqiang so much that the kraft paper in his arms fell to the ground - the rice grains shone with a strange purple-red color under the moonlight, exactly the same as the blood-stained grains on the anonymous letter.
"Xu Yao?" Sun Zhiqiang took two steps back and crushed the rice. The third sister's silver hairpin fell into the pottery jar with a clang.
Xue Han slowly pressed the stop button on the black box. When the red light went out, the fire from the threshing ground in the distance suddenly lit up half the sky red.
Xu Yao bent down to pick up the rice stained with dog blood, and her fingertips touched the red clay on the soles of Xue Hanjun's boots.
It was also such a hot night in her previous life. She held Niuniu, who was coughing up blood, and asked Sun Zhiqiang to borrow a tractor, but she saw her third sister's son driving away in the commune's farm machinery, with purple-red rice grains mixed in the ruts.
"Brother Han, listen!" She suddenly pointed to the gnarled hole in the old locust tree, from where came the faint sound of a tape turning.
Xue Han used his bayonet to pry open the spider web and pulled out a half piece of red rope with a rusty copper whistle tied to it - it was the one that the village chief had pinned on his lapel when he presided over the divorce ceremony.
The third sister suddenly rushed over to grab the tape, and when her embroidered shoes slipped on something bloody, the copper buckle on Xue Han's belt accurately flicked open the silver hairpin on her temples.
Xu Yao saw the word "Shu" engraved on the hairpin soaked in blood, overlapping with the handwriting Xue Han had made that day with peach cake crumbs.
The hand that Sun Zhiqiang took out for the lighter was soaked with gun oil by Xue Han, and the night wind, carrying the smell of saltpeter, passed by Xu Yao's ears.
She clenched the red rope tightly and heard the sound of footsteps coming from the direction of the threshing ground, mixed with the rhythm of the village chief's pipe hitting the door frame, urging the bloody dawn.
The firelight from the threshing ground danced into two clusters of golden red in Xue Han's eyes. Xu Yao clutched the hot tape, looking at the edge of the peach pastry wrapped in oil paper sticking out of his military uniform pocket, and suddenly remembered that Niu Niu in her previous life wanted to eat this kind of pastry with sesame seeds before her death.
"Walk."
Xue Han tied the third sister up to the old locust tree with a belt and stuffed a piece of peach cake into Xu Yao's mouth.
The sweet scent mixed with the smell of gun oil from his fingertips inexplicably suppressed the bloody smell in his throat.
The enamel jar on the eight-immortals table in the village chief's house was still steaming. Xue Han's military kettle knocked open the can of malted milk sent by Sun Zhiqiang.
Xu Yao stared at the family portrait under the glass plate - the third sister was standing next to the grain drying machine holding her son, and the silver bracelet on her wrist was stuck on the cover of the relief grain account book.
"This is a recording device." Xue Han turned the knob on the side of the black box, and the third sister's words "blame Xu Yao for her tough life" suddenly exploded, and the sparks in the village chief's pipe splashed on the Dacron shirt that Sun Zhiqiang had just given him yesterday.
Xu Yao untied the red knot, and three purple-red rice grains stained with dog blood rolled onto the table.
The moonlight shone through the window lattice onto the cracks in the rice husks. She deliberately tapped them with her fingertips stained with peach cake residue: "Last autumn, when we were distributing grain, Accountant Sun said that the commune was infested with rats."
Xue Han suddenly pulled out a tin frog from his trouser pocket, and his low voice was mixed with the sound of the spring turning: "The rat extermination record of Northeast Warehouse No. 3." The village chief's calloused hands clenched his pipe fiercely - Xu Yao knew what he remembered, because it was that record that was burned by the third sister's son when he played with fire last winter.
There were hurried footsteps coming from the direction of the threshing ground. Xu Yao saw through the window her third sister's silver hairpin flashing in the crowd.
Xue Han used his bayonet to pick up the red clay on the sole of his military boots. When the purple-black soil fell onto the glass plate, half a rice husk stained with diesel was revealed.
"Look at this, folks!"
Xu Yao suddenly raised her voice and slapped the blood-stained anonymous letter on the third patch of Sun Zhiqiang's Zhongshan suit - the stitching there was abnormally fine.
Xue Han lightly poked with the tip of his bayonet, and a receipt with a red stamp of the commune floated out amid the sound of tearing cloth.
Amid the exclamations of the crowd, the cuffs of the third sister's sleeves, which were embroidered with lotus flowers, suddenly flashed with a cold light.
The copper buckle on Xue Han's belt accurately knocked the silver hairpin on her wrist away. The word "Shu" on the hairpin was clearly visible under the kerosene lamp - it was exactly the same as the bloody and gilded writing style in the anonymous letter.
"The wolf-hair brush is hidden in the secret compartment of the hairpin." The pale face of the third sister was reflected on the blade that Xue Han had polished with gun oil. He turned to the accountant and shouted, "Please bring the ink." Xu Yao understood and unfolded the anonymous letter. She watched Xue Han press the hairpin head into the ink - the gap in the character "殳" perfectly coincided with the crack in the gold paint on the letter paper.
The old cow in the threshing ground suddenly let out a whine, and Xu Yao saw her third sister's son hiding behind a haystack and eating peach cakes.
Xue Han took out a frog made of bullet shells and threw it over. When the child ran away happily, a few grains of rice shining with purple light fell out of his trouser pocket.
"This is moldy food for livestock!" The barefoot doctor suddenly rushed out, broke open the rice husk to reveal the black spots inside, "People will vomit blood if they eat it!" Xu Yao was shocked. The blood foam that Niu Niu vomited before she died in her previous life was mixed with these black particles with purple edges.
Xue Han's military boots crushed the rice, and he suddenly bent down to pick up something.
Before Xu Yao could see clearly, she saw him stuff a pinch of tobacco into the village chief's pipe: "Does this tobacco mixed with red clay make your lungs choke when you smoke it?"
The crowd suddenly became eerily quiet, and Xu Yao could hear the sound of the red rope on her wrist rubbing against the copper coins.
Sun Zhiqiang suddenly rushed towards the tape recorder, but was hit on the knee by Xue Han's belt, causing him to fall into a pile of newly harvested straw in the threshing ground - the granary that his father had built with embezzled renovation funds twenty years ago was now burning there.
"Someone from the commune will come to check the accounts tomorrow morning." The village chief tapped the military recorder on the corner of the table with his pipe, and suddenly smiled apologetically at Xu Yao, "Girl, about the broken engagement..."
Xue Han suddenly coughed lightly, and Xu Yao felt something hard hitting her lower back.
She sneaked out to take a look and found that it was a hairpin made from a bullet shell. The word "Yao" was engraved on the head of the hairpin. It was more exquisite than any silver hairpin she had seen in the supply and marketing cooperative in her previous life.
The firelight from the threshing floor illuminated the red tips of Xue Han's ears. Xu Yao clutched the hairpin and recalled that when he was carving words with a bayonet last night, the moonlight flowed along the tip of the knife into the enamel jar that contained her peach cakes.
I thought he was repairing the tape recorder, but it turns out...
"Brother Han!" The accountant suddenly rushed in holding an account book, "There is three pounds missing from each bag of relief food handled by Sun Zhiqiang!" Xu Yao looked at the copper buckle on Xue Han's belt and suddenly remembered that every snowy night in her previous life, the mill at the entrance of the village would emit the aroma of roasted wheat - exactly the amount that could be roasted from three pounds of wheat.
Amid the crowd's curses, Xu Yao felt her fingertips touching the warm enamel cup.
Xue Han had made some brown sugar water at some point, and there were a few plump red dates at the bottom of the cup, exactly the same as the one she had secretly hidden to replenish her body when she had a miscarriage in her previous life.
As the moonlight was setting, Xu Yao saw a hunched figure outside the wall of her home.
Father Xu was holding onto the door frame and coughing. A blood-stained handkerchief was soaked in a pottery jar at his feet. In the morning light, she could see the purple-red powder on the corner of the handkerchief, which was exactly the same as the rice crumbs on the anonymous letter.
Xue Han's military boots suddenly stopped. Xu Yao followed his gaze and saw Niu Niu's small jacket swaying in the wind on the clothesline.
On the third buttonhole of the dress that was modified from Sun Zhiqiang's old clothes, there was a half-circle bloody tooth mark.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
