The culprit behind burning paper and throwing feces
It's hard to say for sure about fate.
Last year a loser, this year a princess; last month a nobody, this month a rich and handsome man; yesterday an ordinary citizen, today a savior. In this enchanting world, anything is possible.
Take this day for example, around seven o'clock in the morning, our whole family staged a full-blown fight.
My dad, wielding a cleaver, stood menacingly perched on the wall, hacking at people; my mom, with a screwdriver tucked into her waistband and two bundles slung over her shoulders, wandered aimlessly around the yard; I stood at the gate, brandishing a brick, a section of bicycle chain still wrapped around my neck, not yet of use.
It was pitch black then, and all I could see in front of my house was a scene of carnage, with flesh and brains splattered everywhere—the battle was incredibly fierce. In no time, my father and I had swiftly and decisively taken down the three guys who had been blocking the door and provoking us. In the distance, I could still see figures moving towards us. My father, caught up in the frenzy, his eyes bloodshot, suddenly raised the cleaver to mid-air and roared, "Kill them! You damn demolition crew!"
"Stop yelling, you'll attract attention!" In a panic, I tried to jump up and cover his mouth, but my hand was faster than my leg and I swung it out first. I heard a cry of pain as my dad was knocked off the wall by the brick I hit.
...
You wouldn't believe me even if I told you this was so absurd.
An hour ago, I couldn't believe it either. How could someone as refined as me be associated with bricks?
Just an hour ago it was a beautiful day, the morning sun was warm, a gentle breeze was blowing, and the fresh scent of early spring swept across the rubble square, which stretched for over a mile, straight to my house. My dad was doing leg stretches in the yard, and my mom had hung the freshly washed clothes on the line. She shook them off at me, who was yawning and looking listless, spraying a spray of water all over my face, and ordered, "Brush your teeth, wash your face, and go buy dinner!"
What a beautiful morning, what a warm family, but I ran into a lot of bad luck as soon as I stepped out the door.
I don't know which bastard built an ash pit in front of my house. The yellow paper in the pit was almost burned, but there were still several stacks of large denomination ghost money that hadn't been completely burned. One of them even had "100 Billion Yuan from the People's Bank of the Underworld" written on it, which made me roll my eyes. Not only were ashes flying everywhere, but the smoke was also pungent and acrid. Around the ash pit, there were some chicken feathers and duck blood, which were spilled and dragged several meters away in puddles. They were neither black nor red, making the ground in front of my house a complete mess.
This used to be a residential area, and it's normal for people to burn paper money in the alley on the first and fifteenth of each lunar month—nothing to be angry about. What's annoying is that while others simply draw a circle with chalk, this guy went to great lengths, building a perfectly shaped pit with bricks. The pit was so close to my door; ten centimeters more and it would have burned a hole in it. What's even more infuriating is that he drew an arrow pointing directly at my house, as if afraid people wouldn't know who he was burning the paper money for, and dragged it all the way up to the steps. Isn't that deliberately trying to cause trouble?
"Pah, you heartless bastard! You've burned all the money for someone else's family. If your ancestors knew, they'd crush you to death on the bed!" I kicked the brick away, and the ashes swirled up in a big vortex, scattering like wandering ghosts. I called out to the door, "Mom, come out and see! They've changed it again."
After saying that, I pinched my nose and stepped over the ash pit. After a few steps, I heard my mother laughing behind me: "Oh, we're not throwing manure today, we're burning paper money for our ancestors instead."
I laughed too. We had just separated our family from the family, and now she's claiming to be our ancestor.
As we were talking, I suddenly noticed a person leaning against the wall in the alley about five meters away.
The man, dressed in a filthy gray jacket and jeans, with long, unfashionable hair, leaned against a dilapidated brick wall like a down-on-his-luck rock singer. His legs were propped up at an angle, his arms were covering his navel, one shoulder was raised against the wall, and his head was drooping to his chest. He looked frail and looked like he was about to faint from heatstroke.
What a load of heat in March!
The moment this man came into view, I was instantly enraged. I turned around, leaped to the ash heap, bent down, grabbed half a brick, and charged straight at him, my murderous intent palpable. Without a word, I kicked him hard in the groin, then raised the brick and began to curse: "It's you again, you bastard! You're never going to stop! You think I won't smash your head in?"
Without uttering a sound, he stumbled backward from the force of my kick and landed flat on the ground.
I know this guy. His surname is Liu, given name Yu, male, occupation unknown. Strictly speaking, he's my childhood friend. We live in Jiankang Lane, just two streets away from Xingfu Lane. We're both local kids who grew up in this area under the jurisdiction of Huafu Subdistrict Office. When we were kids, he led a group of neighborhood kids, almost like hooligans, to challenge the status of the boss of Huafu Street in our lane. After being bruised and battered several times, they finally admitted defeat and bowed down to us. We've stolen bird eggs together a few times and gone down to the wild river a few times. But since we're not from the same lane, there's still a bit of a distance between us.
Little did I know that after growing up, none of the ruthless and vicious people in Happiness Lane went astray. Some went to university, some joined research institutions, and some went into business and became refined and cultured merchants. They all looked presentable and were competing to be successful. Only I was a little less successful, spending my life in a hospital. But some of those quasi-hooligans in Health Lane really did become scum when they grew up, joining the ranks of those who made a living by fighting and settling disputes. Liu Yu, of course, took the lead.
He has done many heinous things. The most heinous of them all was helping the demolition office to demolish houses in Xingfu Lane, causing all sorts of trouble with great enthusiasm.
If you tiptoe over the dilapidated wall in front of us, you can see a large area of broken walls and rubble, all of which were emptied out last year. Looking west, south, and north, the same thing continues. Within a radius of two miles, apart from a makeshift market that hasn't been demolished and a few neighboring houses on the right whose walls haven't been completely torn down, there is only one intact building—my house.
White walls, black tiles, a quiet courtyard, an ancient locust tree… it's like a traditional Chinese ink painting. In fact, the tiles on my house's exterior walls were only installed two years ago; they're blindingly white in the sunlight. Leftover cured meat and salted fish from the New Year hang under the eaves, and the yard is filled with a pile of everyday junk; a solar panel stands on the second-floor roof, along with a rusty pot that supposedly could receive overseas channels—a 200 yuan purchase my dad made, which turned out to be a scam. It's just a simple, ordinary two-story house, standing alone amidst the vast ruins, lonely yet resilient, defiant and unyielding, exuding a touch of lone heroism.
The demolition office keeps calling us "holdouts," and that brat Liu Yu always calls us the "tomb of the living dead." No wonder, if he hadn't read too many martial arts novels, how could he have ended up in this line of work?
Actually, my family knew there wasn't much room for negotiation on the demolition compensation. Last year, the neighbors staged a collective petition and sit-in protest that almost resulted in a death. It was only after the demolition office and the developer made concessions that the situation calmed down. Seeing our neighbors moving out so readily made us anxious. This house has been inhabited by my grandfather's generation, and they've all lived there for a very long time. There are two uncles, a father, two aunts, a mother, and my grandparents. Before I was born, there wasn't a second floor. I really don't know how they managed to survive in just three rooms.
After my grandparents passed away one after another, and my two uncles started their own households, the three of us finally had a few years of peace and quiet. My mother and I dreamed day and night of living in a community with fountains, flowers, and a swimming pool, in a bright and clean high-rise building with an elevator. We eagerly awaited the demolition office to come to our door, like villagers waiting for the People's Liberation Army. But when they finally came, my father suddenly objected, saying that we would be taken advantage of.
It turns out that the neighbor's grandfather and my grandfather were building their houses at the same time, and he wanted to take 1.5 meters of our land. At that time, his family had seven people, and their living space was cramped. My uncle wasn't even born yet, so he set his sights on that area. One year, he invited my grandfather for drinks, explaining that it was a loan. He flattered my grandfather in every way possible, and the old man, pleased with himself and pleased with the flattery, readily agreed. There was indeed an IOU, but no mention of when it would be repaid. Later, as the number of people in his house increased, his house was perfectly fine, and he was living comfortably. You can't just tear down a wall from each of the two houses to get that 1.5 meters back, can you?
My grandfather was a generous man; even when his own family was struggling financially, he never made things difficult for his neighbors, and that's how decades passed. After Xiao Liu's family had their land measured and took their demolition compensation, they disappeared overnight. My father slowly took out that yellowed IOU; it seemed that even on his deathbed, the old man was still thinking about his family's land.
This was the final straw that broke the camel's back in the peace talks, and the culprit that drove my family to become holdouts.
The developer's representative couldn't hold back and said some unpleasant things. My mother and I looked at each other, feeling deeply sorry for them. My father has a strange temper; his personality isn't very distinct, and he's rather careless in his actions. He usually acts like a nice guy, easy to talk to everyone. The fact that he's been neighbors with Xiao Liu's family for decades without ever mentioning the land loan is a testament to this. Only my mother and I know that when he gets stubborn, he's a force to be reckoned with.
After things reached a stalemate, we began a protracted tug-of-war, which escalated from negotiations, arguments, and physical altercations to throwing excrement and burning joss paper. Roughly speaking, it has lasted for more than half a year. In the process of constantly fighting against the evil forces, my mother and I gradually grew from resentful ordinary citizens into brave and ruthless individuals. This is inseparable from my father's stubborn brainwashing and the involvement of gangsters instigated by the developer.
Speaking of gangsters, I glanced at the guy on the ground again. He was the culprit who burned the yellow paper. No doubt about it, he was the one who threw excrement the day before yesterday! He was curled up on his side on the ground, his messy hair, resembling Sadako's, covering his face and eyes. His hands were either still covering his navel or his groin. He was motionless, looking like a castrated dead dog.
I weighed the brick in my hand and laughed smugly, "You don't need to play dead when I catch you red-handed. Didn't you practice Iron Shirt?" We've clashed head-on many times, with each of us winning and losing. This kid may be shameless, but he's really tough and can take a beating.
Logically, being kicked in the groin should have elicited some reaction, but Liu Yu remained motionless and silent, showing no signs of life whatsoever, just like a dead man.
"Hey, passed out?" I lightly nudged his thigh with my toe, then suddenly noticed his exposed wrist and half of his neck, sensing something was wrong. His skin was a very strange color, a deathly gray, lacking any luster, much like the face of my grandfather when he lay in the middle of his funeral. A chill ran down my spine. Did this kid have some kind of mental problem, deliberately coming to my house to die, just waiting for me to cut off his manhood? Did he have such a deep grudge?
"Liu Yu, you little bastard, don't try that on me." I squatted down, reached out to brush the hair off his face, and flicked it with my finger. I only glanced at it, but I was so horrified that I sat back down on my butt. Five seconds later, I let out a blood-curdling scream.
His left eyeball had popped out of its socket, with a bloody, purulent thread hanging down his cheek. His nose was torn into a bloody mess, as if a dog had gnawed on it. His forehead was gone. The details were hard to describe, but in short, he had been so badly mutilated that you could almost see his brains.
What... what are you talking about? Just the day before yesterday, he was playing with manure in front of my house, full of energy. How did he become like this today?
I admit that the moment I saw his face, my mind went blank, my body went out of control, and I fell to the ground completely involuntarily. I didn't scream for five seconds because I was dumbfounded, stunned, and had amnesia. The reason I screamed later was because that bastard Liu Yu suddenly sat up.
Yes, even with his face gouged out like that, he still sat up and stretched out his claw-like hand towards me, letting out a "Hungry..."
I assure the three ancestors of the Yan, Huang, and Chi clans that it was not a sound that a human could make.
My stunned silence and screams gave him time. Just as he grabbed one of my legs and was about to bury his head in me, I snapped back to reality. A thought flashed through my mind: Oh no! He looks really hungry; he's going to devour me!
With the brick still in my hand, I didn't hesitate at all. I used all my strength to smash it down, cracking his skull solidly.
My mom rushed over: "What's going on? Why are you beating him to death?"
I kicked Liu Yu so hard he fell face-up and yelled, "Zombies! I knew they were coming sooner or later! Did you see that? The zombies are here!"
My mother was also startled by Liu Yu's grotesque face, clutching her heart in a panic: "What nonsense are you talking about so early in the morning? How could you beat someone up like this?"
Liu Yu's head split open like a watermelon. No blood flowed out, only a few gurgling black pus-like substances oozing from the crack in his skull.
The reason I was able to crack his skull so easily was partly because I used all my strength, and partly because his brain had already been almost completely chewed up.
I hurriedly pushed my mother towards the house: "Go back and pack your things, we're going to flee."
My mother asked, trembling, "Aren't you going to turn yourself in?"
I said impatiently, "Never mind that, go back first and tell my dad to take the kitchen knife and chop any strangers who come to the door, aim for their heads. I need to go to the market to see if my second uncle is still there."
My mother kept trembling: "You child, how could you drag your father into this?"
I didn't have time to explain to her. I pushed her to the door in a few strides and ran towards the alley entrance. My second uncle is my dad's cousin. Every morning he sells jianbing guozi (Chinese crepes) at the market. He sells them to people for five yuan, but relatives only pay him four yuan and eighty cents. Sometimes, if we feel embarrassed to ask for change, we leave the two cents with him. Every month or so, we can eat them for free. Our whole family has been eating them for years and we all praise his kindness. I must remind him to take refuge as soon as possible.
Just as I reached the alley entrance, I saw my second uncle's large, stout figure slowly swaying towards the market stalls in the distance, followed by two other people. Overjoyed, I raised my hand and called out, "Second Uncle, come quick!"
Uncle Erda seemed to have seen me. He stretched out his arms and pointed at me, still moving his feet slowly. Behind him, the two men swayed from side to side, as if they were drunk.
When I saw their faces clearly, a chill ran through me. I silently turned around and ran home as fast as I could. Behind me, I heard several cries of "Hungry..." rising and falling.
Unexpectedly, my second uncle was also hungry.
※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※
Happy New Year! Wishing you good health and peace.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
