Chapter 29: Far More Than Heartbreak Part 2

Wang Ya feared the attackers from last night hadn’t left and were lurking in the shadows, waiting for her return to rummage further. She turned on her phone’s flashlight and entered the house, circling from the main hall to the three bedrooms on either side. Everywhere she looked was destruction: all cabinets smashed to pieces, even the beds dismantled! The cement floor bore marks of being pried at—if not for the thin brick walls that couldn’t hide anything, the house itself might have been torn down. She left the brick house and circled to the side kitchen. The kitchen was a tiled room with brick walls, small and cramped, half-filled by the stove. Bowls lay shattered across the floor, the shelf overturned, all the jars smashed—including the pickled vegetable ones, spilling sauerkraut and brine everywhere. Pots were smashed, stove ash scattered all over, firewood from beside the stove tossed into the middle of the kitchen, even the ash bin rummaged through.

“Wah—” Wang Cheng’an burst into tears again, wailing loudly. “My pickled ginger, my eggs, my flour… Wah… Yaya… Wuu…”

Wang Ya heard Wang Cheng’an’s crying and let out a deep, heavy sigh. Turning, she shouted, “Dad, stop crying. Tomorrow I’ll take you to town for rabbit noodle soup—three liang per bowl, and I’ll treat you to four!”

Wang Cheng’an’s crying stopped immediately. Tears still hung on his face as he asked, “Really?”

A man over forty, and this was his demeanor! Still her dad! Toward this father of hers, Wang Ya felt nothing but helplessness. She pulled out a hundred-yuan bill and slapped it into Wang Cheng’an’s hand. “No need to worry, I’m just coaxing you now, right?”

Wang Cheng’an instantly broke into a grin.

Wang Ya surveyed the house once more. Her conclusion: the kitchen floor hadn’t been touched. She turned and left the kitchen, sitting on the steps under the eaves and staring at the practice dummy in the courtyard. Tears rolled down unbidden. As a child, she had hated that dummy to death—forced to practice on it for hours every day until her whole body ached, with Grandma standing guard, not letting her slack even a little.

Wang Cheng’an sat beside Wang Ya and said, “Yaya, don’t cry. Daddy will buy you candy. Guoguo’s mom bought the candy—it’s so good. I didn’t eat it all, saved some for you. Yaya, where did my mom go? When’s she coming back? I didn’t eat enough tonight—Guoguo’s mom only gave me one bowl of noodles. I want three bowls.”

Wang Ya patted her dad’s shoulder. “Dad, go play by yourself, but don’t leave the courtyard.” With that, she went back inside.

About ten minutes later, eighteen beams of Blood Light flew continuously from the house into the fields outside the courtyard. Wang Ya made some arrangements around the courtyard, then picked up the hoe from under the eaves and headed to the kitchen. Passing through the courtyard, she turned to Wang Cheng’an, who was squatting there, and shouted, “Dad, if anyone comes, call me!” She added, “Don’t wait until they’re close to our courtyard to call.” She pointed out a range for him. “Whether it’s a person or a ghost, if they step into the area I showed you, call me.”

Wang Cheng’an replied with an “Ai” and said, “Don’t worry.” He grinned and walked over to Wang Ya’s side. “Yaya, are you going to do bad things again? Don’t worry, I won’t tell Grandma—as long as you buy me…” He trailed off halfway, unsure what he wanted, shrugged it off, and went back to squat in the dim courtyard.

Wang Ya entered the kitchen and used the hoe to shove aside the shattered sauerkraut jar. She swung the hoe hard at the spot where the jar had been and started digging vigorously. Her dad came in and out several times behind her, but she ignored him.

After digging over a meter deep and carving out a large pit in the kitchen—her phone nearly out of battery—Wang Ya finally hit a wooden board. She pried it open and saw a Sealed Jar. The jar was sealed tight with Talisman Paper. Wang Ya struggled greatly to extract it. The yellow cloth wrapped around the outside, painted with Runes, had faded, but the Talisman Patterns on it remained bright as new. Wang Ya unwrapped the yellow cloth to reveal Talisman Paper plastered densely over the jar; she peeled back one sheet to see more Talisman Paper painted directly on the jar beneath.

Wang Ya stared at the jar, her emotions surging indescribably. She took several deep breaths to steady herself, then pried open the seal. Inside was packed full of River Sand! Yes, she hadn’t misseen it—completely dry River Sand! Wang Ya stared blankly. “Why would Grandma bury a jar of River Sand?” She swung the hoe and smashed the jar! With a “clang,” it shattered, River Sand spilling everywhere, revealing something tightly wrapped in oilcloth. Wang Ya picked it up—it wasn’t long, just over twenty centimeters, heavy in hand, fairly thick at about seven centimeters in diameter. She untied the red rope around the oilcloth and opened it to find another layer of yellow cloth painted with Talisman Patterns. Unwrapping that exposed a familiar book. Rolled up, it was an Ancient Book. Wang Ya had learned from this book since childhood; she knew its contents by heart. It was thick, but not as thick as the one before her now. Something was wrapped inside the book.

The phone’s light suddenly died, plunging the room into darkness.

Wang Ya opened the book and felt inside with her hand—the wrapped item was cold, smooth, and round to the touch.

The room was pitch black, but the thing in her hand began to glow faintly, somewhat like fluorescence.

With poor visibility, Wang Ya suspected it was the nearly decayed Ancient Painting she had seen before. She didn’t dare unroll it casually, fearing damage. She took off her jacket, wrapped the item up, and shouted to Wang Cheng’an, who was playing with fire, “Dad, let’s go.” As she reached him, she was stunned to see it wasn’t fire he was playing with—it was barbecue! He had skinned a snake and a rat, gutted the rat, and skewered them over the flames. He’d stacked bricks for a stove, using her Grandma’s thick knitting needles to impale the rat and snake meat. Somehow, he’d found salt, MSG, and Sichuan peppercorns, sprinkling them onto the half-cooked meat like a pro. His left hand fanned the coals with a palm-leaf fan—a perfect roadside barbecue vendor, just short of hawking, “Lamb skewers! Xinjiang roast lamb…”

Wang Ya stood there, speechless for a long time. Dad, with Mom’s life or death unknown—even with your intellectual disability, can we not do this? Who could barbecue with such enthusiasm after nearly suffering family extermination, squatting amid the ruins with rat and snake meat? You think you’re a street vendor selling lamb skewers?!

Wang Ya trembled all over, standing there, feeling her heart utterly shattered—far more than shattered!