But people had died—villagers she knew.
During these five days in the county, how had Changzong been searching? In the end, Meng Qingdai still died.
Wang Auntie and Kong Laosan identified her body, crying their hearts out.
Hongguo went to the morgue. From the moment Qingdai disappeared until now—eight days—she had wasted away. Was she starving to death?
Jiang Hongguo dragged Meng Qingdai with surprising ease—light enough that she could manage it, even as Qingdai’s spirit seemed unwilling to rest.
Gu Changzong glanced at Kong Laosan with disdain, then handed Hongguo a handkerchief. “Guoguo, we’ve seen enough. Let’s go home.”
“I want to see the mute girl,” Hongguo said. Everyone called her “mute girl” so habitually they had forgotten her real name.
Hongguo was certain she had been knocked unconscious by the mute girl.
But the mute girl had woken first and explained what happened in a way no one would doubt. She hadn’t intended to harm Hongguo—more likely, she had subdued her to keep her out of danger. Hongguo still wanted to see her.
As soon as the mute girl noticed Hongguo, she gestured urgently. An older woman nearby, fluent in sign language, translated through tearful gestures:
“The mute girl thanks you. She’s unfortunate, has no siblings, and her parents passed away. She was left with two jobs that could sustain her, but that evil man targeted her. No matter what, she thanks you and the girl who died.”
Looking at the once-threatening but now seemingly innocent mute girl, Hongguo felt a mix of concern and unease. She spoke casually to her, then asked Changzong to handle the discharge. “Changzong, I want to go home.”
Changzong, not wanting to linger in the hospital among people he disliked, quickly took care of the discharge. The doctor suggested one more day of observation, but Changzong’s stern look overrode the advice, and the paperwork was completed.
Hongguo reassured the mute girl: “Yunxiang, what you told others matches what I remember. Thank you for helping me recall the events. Rest well—I’m going home now.”
The mute girl’s name was Ji Yunxiang, confirmed later by the police. Overcome with gratitude, she clasped Hongguo’s hand and signed a heartfelt thank-you.
….
At home, Gu Changzong had prepared a large tub of hot water. Hongguo washed her hair first, then soaked in the tub, reflecting on the mute girl’s two calls of “Hongguo” when she revived. How had she known Hongguo’s name?
Changzong had said he handled things fairly well—if Meng Qingdai had died, he wouldn’t have claimed that. Hongguo didn’t dare dwell on it further. The revival of the mute girl, and the death of Meng Qingdai, were both strange occurrences. And Changzong… was he really human?
Seeing that Yunxiang knew her previous habits, even her sign language, Hongguo wondered: did Changzong know about Gu Zhishi’s past too? Her heart tightened at the thought.
Auntie Liu, noticing Hongguo returned, hurried back from the fields to speak with Changzong.
“Is Guoguo alright?” she asked.
“She’s fine—just tired. A bath and some rest,” Changzong replied.
Auntie Liu had wanted to discuss the county trip, but Changzong’s response made her pause. Hongguo lingered in the tub until the water cooled, giving herself time to recover.
When Changzong entered, he scooped her up in his arms. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
Hongguo, exhausted, had some strength left but not enough to resist completely. Her struggle splashed water over him.
“Give me the towel,” she panted.
Changzong wrapped her in a towel, carefully wringing water from her hair.
Exhausted but mindful, Hongguo asked, “Do you want to go work in the city?”
“Yes,” Changzong replied. Opportunities were better there, and he wanted a better life for her.
Hongguo, however, was afraid. She had seen Meng Qingdai earn money, only to die. She worried the same fate might befall Changzong.
“Changzong, if I don’t want you to go, will you still go?”
Changzong, understanding her concern, told her to sleep first. He called the city, and the plan was postponed. Hongguo felt relieved—Changzong wasn’t like Gu Zhishi; she didn’t need to analyze whether he remembered everything from the past.
That night, she rewarded him in the way he liked, asking repeatedly: “Changzong, you’re not going to the city—don’t regret it?”
“No. If I went, you’d be upset. Here at home, I can earn too,” he replied.
….
Soon, Hongguo was called to help at Wang Auntie’s house again. Meng Qingdai’s body had been returned for burial. Though cities had practiced cremation for years, Dayang Village followed traditional earth burials.
Wang Auntie purchased a prime plot for Qingdai, honoring her as a family heroine who died unjustly. The funeral was grand, with more dishes than even a wedding feast.
Hongguo refused to go, still shaken by recent events. Auntie Liu and Wang Auntie understood, asking Changzong to handle the rituals. He complied, his face dark.
The day of the funeral, the county’s mute girl attended, silently shedding tears. Auntie Liu commented, “Qingdai saved her—she should come to pay respects.”
Hongguo stayed silent. The mute girl could now speak but continued pretending to be mute—Hongguo didn’t know what her intentions were.
Later, the mute girl came to thank Hongguo. Changzong, displeased, gave her no hospitality: “Hongguo didn’t attend the funeral. We won’t host you. A person must have discernment.”
Hongguo pretended to sleep, letting the girl leave. She wondered why she still felt pity.
“She’s unfortunate, and doesn’t mean harm. Why were you so cold to her?”
Changzong’s wariness of Ji Yunxiang made him protective. If she grew close to Yunxiang, she might start disliking him—Hongguo would not allow that.
“Guoguo, if I don’t want you to be friends with Yunxiang, would you be upset?” he asked.
Hongguo, unwilling for him to go to the city and knowing he didn’t like Yunxiang, replied immediately: “Then I won’t be friends with her.”
Changzong smiled, pleased. Hongguo had agreed without conditions.
….
With the autumn harvest approaching, Hongguo helped briefly in the fields before feeling faint and being assigned kitchen duties.
Changzong, with Auntie Liu and Uncle Yang, helped harvest the rice quickly—three days to finish several acres. The school gave a farming break, so Liu’s younger son returned to help, and Hongguo’s smaller plot required fewer people.
During the harvest, Hongguo noticed Wang Auntie’s arrangements. Despite family disputes, the eldest sons and Kong Dabai’s fields were harvested cooperatively.
Auntie Liu frowned. “Why is Wang Auntie’s youngest son helping with others’ fields when they’re supposed to be estranged?”
Uncle Yang explained: “Qingdai is dead. Who knows how much she left for Kong Laosan? This year, the autumn harvest is for the eldest two brothers. That’s enough to eat.”
Auntie Liu, exhausted, tried to gather gossip later, but Wang Auntie’s household kept tight lips, frustrating her.
Hongguo prepared a hearty meal and encouraged Auntie Liu: “Once we sell the harvest and have some money, let’s go to the county and have some fun.”
Auntie Liu’s face brightened. “That’s exactly what I wanted. Also, your stomach hasn’t moved—let’s see a doctor I know.”
Hongguo declined. She was increasingly suspicious that Changzong wasn’t normal—and perhaps her inability to conceive was not a misfortune.
The harvested rice, still damp, needed several sunny days to dry. After giving half to the state and keeping half for themselves, they could sell the remainder—a much better arrangement than during the collective farming era.
They had just finished storing the harvested rice in the granary when they saw Wang Daniu’s eldest son moving—with his wife and children—into the three newly built tiled rooms that had belonged to Kong Laosan.
Aunt Liu felt sick. “Qingdai hasn’t even finished her forty-ninth day memorial, and they’re already taking over the house she earned money to build.”
Kong Laoda’s wife overheard and rushed over to argue. The two women quarreled until others pulled them apart. After that, Aunt Liu stopped speaking to Wang Daniu altogether.
A few days later, more “good news” came from Wang Daniu’s household. Instead of joy, Aunt Liu was furious. She ran to Jiang Hongguo to vent.
“Hongguo, now I know why Kong Laosan didn’t care about that bit of autumn grain. He’s climbing the social ladder! He’s remarrying—going to be a live-in son-in-law for a city family. No wonder Wang Meihua doesn’t bother talking to us anymore. One step to the heavens—she’ll be eating state grain soon.”
A chill ran down Jiang Hongguo’s spine.
“Who is Kong Laosan marrying into?”