FMT 10

Chapter 10  Chen Shuangning

Chen Hanwen was only fourteen when he died.

That year, heavy rains fell and Kaoshan Village was hit by a mountain flood. Since it was daytime, most of the villagers were working in the fields. Only the houses close to the mountain were damaged, and few people were hurt.

Only one person was an exception. Chen Hanwen of the Chen family. He was a scholar. His mother never let him go to the fields. After reading too long he grew restless and went wandering at the foot of the mountain.

He was buried under the mud. Villagers searched for several days before finding him.

By then his body had begun to rot, but the face was still recognizable. It was indeed Chen Hanwen of the Chen family.

Father Chen had already passed away. Old Madam Chen wept as if her entrails were being torn apart, nearly dying on the spot. Villagers carried her away by force, set people to watch her every day, and arranged the burial together. Only then did she survive it.

His private tutor had once said the boy would surely pass the examinations in the future. Old Madam Chen had pinned her hopes on him. Even after her husband died she clenched her teeth and kept paying for Hanwen’s studies. She never thought it would end this way.

After his death, she could not let go.

Hanwen’s tutor also felt pity. Though in daily life Hanwen had shown him little respect and often argued over the monthly tuition, the tutor still painted a portrait of him and gave it to Old Madam Chen as a remembrance.

She was hard to deal with, but she truly loved her son.

She had the portrait mounted. When she missed him, she would take it out and stare at it for half the day.

After Liandan married in, he often saw her carefully take out the portrait, wipe it slowly with a cloth, hold it on her lap, and look at it for a long time.

So Liandan gradually became familiar with Hanwen’s face.

Only when the village chief spoke Hanwen’s name did Liandan realize why the man at the doorway seemed so familiar.

The portrait had shown a boy of thirteen or fourteen, with features not yet mature.

If he had lived, he would now be twenty-two, about the same age as the young man before them.

The room was quiet. Except for the village chief, everyone stared open-mouthed at the young man in the doorway.

Liandan’s pupils trembled. He could not believe it.

He held the baby tighter. Xiaodan, who had just stopped crying, now felt uncomfortable and twisted his mouth again, starting to cry.

Liandan quickly lowered his head, loosened his grip, and soothed him softly in his throat with “oh, oh.”

But Xiaodan was only two or three months old. Waking hungry, surrounded by so many strange and noisy people, he could not be calmed.

Liandan’s arms were thin like branches by the roadside, while Xiaodan was round and plump. Holding him like that quickly made Liandan sweat.

Just then, a long hand pale as white jade reached out. A faint, strangely familiar scent drifted past and vanished. Liandan froze, and his arms emptied. Xiaodan had been taken.

He almost reached out to take the child back, but seeing the man’s eyes as he looked down at Xiaodan made him freeze.

The pupils held something too dreadful to look into. The longer one stared, the more it felt like falling into a cruel hell.

But now, with his lids lowered, half-covering those terrifying eyes, the man looked at the crying baby. The gaze that seemed to contain all horrors in the world carried a strange tenderness. He pressed his dry lips gently against the baby’s forehead and, in a hoarse but calm tone, said softly, “Xiaodan, be good. Don’t cry.”

For some reason, when Liandan heard him speak that name, he felt something he couldn’t describe in words.

Perhaps the man’s calmness soothed the child’s spirit, or perhaps it was curiosity, but Xiaodan really stopped crying. His beautiful eyes stared blankly at the man holding him.

The young man spoke again in that tone, praising, “Truly father’s good child.”

Liandan had no time to react.

“Wait a moment!” Old Chen was the first to shout. His hoarse voice rang out, “Village chief, where did this man come from? You’ve been deceived! Hanwen is long dead. How could he come back?”

At that, the other Chen family members also cried out.

“He’s a fraud, here to steal our family property. Village head, you mustn’t believe him!”

Old Chen still had some clarity. While the others shouted without order, he asked, “He says he is Hanwen. What proof does he have?”

The village chief’s tone darkened. “Do you think I brought someone here at random? This morning he was brought down by Master Yuanjing from the mountain himself.”

“Master Yuanjing of Lingyun Temple?” Old Chen asked, brows furrowed, his voice lowering, hesitation showing on his face.

The village head said, “Master Yuanjing told me he and his disciples prayed for the villagers of these parts and even went to the underworld…”

Someone let out a shocked gasp.

The village chief gave a dismissive snort and continued, “Master Yuanjing pleaded with the Ten Kings of Hell to spare the villagers from disaster. Seeing his sincerity, the Kings agreed. After asking about the matter, they told him there was a ghost wandering in their hall, one who had died in an accident before his allotted life span was up. They said this was Chen Hanwen of Kaoshan Village. With nowhere to settle him, they let Master Yuanjing bring him back to the world of the living.”

“This happened five or six days ago. After Master Yuanjing brought the ghost back, he made him a paper body and let him attach to it. Only after he adapted did Master Yuanjing bring him down the mountain. Afraid you ignorant people would not believe it, he came down personally and handed him over to me. I asked him questions about his childhood, and he answered every one of them without mistake. There can be no doubt, he is Chen Hanwen!”

“How could that be?” Old Chen widened his cloudy eyes, muttering the words over and over.

Just then, they heard a heavy noise by the bed. Old Madam Chen had woken without anyone noticing. She tried to get up but fell straight to the floor.

Liandan quickly ran over to help her up. Once she was sitting on the bed, she flung out her arm and knocked Liandan aside, then pointed at the people in the room and cursed in a shrill voice, “Old Chen, you heartless bastard born of a bitch, you’re trying to steal what little we have again! I’ll fight you to the death!”

The village chief said, “Wait, Old Chen family, don’t rush. Look closely, see who this is.”

Old Madam Chen’s curses paused. She looked toward the young man holding Xiaodan, narrowing her eyes to examine him. The room was deadly quiet. The young man kept his lids lowered, staring only at the baby in his arms.

As she stared, Old Madam Chen’s eyes grew wider. Then she opened her mouth and cried out even louder.

She collapsed again, but this time crawled on the floor until she reached the young man. Lifting her head, her face twisted in mad joy, she wept and laughed at once, shouting, “My son, it’s my son Hanwen come back, it really is my son!”

At that moment, the young man lifted his eyes, but he looked toward Liandan sitting by the bed.

Liandan’s eyes went wide, and his gaze met the young man’s.

The man’s eyes were cold, black. He looked at Liandan and slowly said, “Go to Old Li’s house at the west end of the village. Trade two eggs for half a bowl of goat’s milk.”

Liandan’s jumbled thoughts and panic were instantly suppressed. He had been worrying about the child still hungry. Now, suddenly clear, he answered at once, hurried to the cupboard in the outer room, and searched underneath for eggs.

Old Li’s house was Tang Hua’s family.

Tanghua had given birth just days ago. Liandan had visited them. They also kept a milk goat.

But this man had only just arrived in the village. How did he know that?

Old Madam Chen’s words were like a hammer striking down. The Chen family no longer voiced objections.

Inside, the old village chief spoke with a smile to the young man, “This afternoon I’ll take you to register. Chen Hanwen’s household record was canceled after his death. That name can’t be used again. You’ll have to change it. Think about what you want to be called.”

With his back to the inner room, Liandan squatted by the cupboard, pulling out two large bowls and then the eggs beneath, while his ears strained to catch what was being said.

The room was silent for a while. Then a hoarse, strangely distorted voice slowly replied, “Call me… Chen Shuangning.”

When he spoke the name, it was as if he faltered. The three characters came out obscure, indistinct.

Liandan could not help sneaking a glance back. Unexpectedly, the man was already looking at him—or perhaps had never stopped. Their eyes met head-on.

In those eyes, Liandan saw once more the vision of hell, seas of blood rolling. His heart lurched. He lowered his head, avoided the gaze, and ran out holding the eggs and bowl, running straight to Tang Hua’s house.

At Old Li’s house, he easily exchanged for half a bowl of goat’s milk, already steamed.

Tang Hua’s little daughter was still small, unable to drink much. The leftover milk for two eggs was a profit for them, and Tang Hua’s mother-in-law was pleased.

Liandan carried the half bowl carefully, covering it with another bowl, and walked back cautiously.

The house was not far, but he feared it would spill so he could not walk fast. By the time he returned, an incense stick’s time had passed.

Liandan was anxious, afraid Xiaodan had gone hungry. But when he entered, the outer room was empty. The noisy crowd had gone. His mother-in-law’s room was open, but silent.

Liandan’s heartbeat sped. Step by step he edged to the doorway, carefully looked inside.

Old Madam Chen lay on the bed, covered with a tattered quilt, silent and still.

Beside the bed, the young man stood. After tucking a porcelain bottle into his sleeve, he turned his head.

“Xiaodan cried himself tired, so he’s fallen asleep in the other room,” Chen Shuangning said, as if reading Liandan’s thoughts before he could ask.

Liandan’s fingers tightened around the bowl. He lowered his head quickly and answered, “Mm.”

He wanted to go to his own room to see the child. But just then, Old Madam Chen on the bed suddenly gave a loud rasping breath, like the dead coming back to life, and said, “Daughter-in-law, come here.”

Liandan hurriedly answered, set down the bowl, and ran in. He dared not look at the young man, hesitated, then stood by the bed.

Old Madam Chen strained to lift her head to look at him, then looked toward the young man. Her face shone with excitement. She shouted, “Heaven has eyes, the Chen line will not end!”

She grabbed Liandan’s hand with her hard, cold grip, ignoring his fear and struggle, her eyes shining, saying, “Daughter-in-law, tonight serve my son well. Give me another fat grandson. One every year, seven or eight of them. Our family will be full of descendants!”

Her eyes gleamed, drool dripped at her mouth. She looked like a beast about to devour prey.

Liandan’s face flushed red, then turned pale. He stole a glance at the young man’s robe hem nearby, but said nothing.

Old Madam Chen shouted, “Daughter-in-law, you won’t obey me? You promise me!”

She even started to crawl down from the bed. Liandan hurriedly said, “Mother, I’ll obey, I promise you.”

Hearing this, Old Madam Chen relaxed and slumped back onto the bed.

The young man remained standing quietly at the side. He had not spoken a word from beginning to end.

If Liandan had lifted his head, he would have seen that ever since the man entered, his gaze had never left him, not once.