Chapter 204: The Cemetery

“Farewell, my comrade, as you embark on your journey,

Silent tears fall as the camel bells chime,

The road is long, the mist is thick,

In the life of revolution, partings are frequent,

Though we part, our hearts remain entwined.

Oh, comrade, dear brother,

Beware the cold northern wind at midnight,

Take care along the way.”

“Farewell, my comrade, as you embark on your journey,

The burden is heavy, the road is long and arduous,

The sound of camel bells lingers along the path,

Mountains rise in layers, rivers crisscross,

With unyielding ambition against wind and water,

We shall not betray the people’s nurturing love.

Oh, comrade, dear brother,

When the spring breeze brings good news,

We shall meet again.”

“Oh, comrade, dear brother,

When the spring breeze brings good news,

We shall meet again.”

…

In the dead of night, the clear sound of a tongue whistle reached her ears, over and over. Lin Fang got up and dressed. Dong Huixin, hearing the movement, scolded her, “Child, why are you so stubborn? It’s snowing and freezing outside. Just use the chamber pot and stay in.”

Lin Fang didn’t stop her movements as she explained to her mother, “Mom, I’m not going to the bathroom. I’m worried about Chen Dong and want to check on her.”

“Chen Dong doesn’t stay in one place at night, and after causing trouble tonight, who knows where she’s hiding? In the middle of the night, how will you find her?”

“I’ll find her. Even if I can’t, Heipi will help.”

Since her rebirth, not only could she see in the dark, but her hearing had also become much sharper. Her mother hadn’t heard the tongue whistle, but to Lin Fang, it sounded as if it were right beside her. Chen Dong’s favorite tune to whistle was “The Camel Bells”—not for the lyrics, but for its melody, sorrowful yet heroic.

After dressing, Lin Fang stepped off the kang and rummaged through the wardrobe in the outer room. She found the fleece sweater Yan Ping had altered for her the previous week. Chen Dong was about the same size, so the sweater would fit her too. Wearing it close to the skin would keep her warm.

She took the military canteen hanging on the wall and filled it with hot water from the thermos in the inner room. Hanging it around her neck, she picked up a few sweet potatoes warming by the stove, wrapped them in a handkerchief, and tucked them into her coat. After putting on her overcoat, she quietly opened the door.

“Fang, wait. Take the thin quilt with you.”

“Dad, you’re awake?”

Lin Yuanmin didn’t say anything else. He pulled out the thin quilt Lin Yong had brought back from his military service and tied it to Heipi’s back. Once secured, Heipi obediently stood by Lin Fang’s side. Since childhood, Heipi had not only been her playmate but also her pack animal, so it knew what to do whenever its owner strapped something to its back—Lin Fang was going out.

Lin Yong had been an armed police officer, always ready for missions. For convenience, some of his personal items were specially made. This thin quilt was lightweight, soft, and warm. Lin Fang had loved it ever since Lin Yong brought it back after his discharge, and she had claimed it as her own. When the family divided their belongings, Lin Yong gave the quilt to Lin Fang, which had caused some friction with Yan Ping.

Over the years, Lin Yuanmin and Dong Huixin had grown accustomed to their daughter’s nighttime companionship with Chen Dong.

During the day, Chen Dong was like a hedgehog ready to attack anyone who threatened her. Only in the dead of night would she stop to lick her wounds. And at such times, only Lin Fang could approach her.

The snow wasn’t heavy. Since nightfall, only a thin layer had settled on the ground, but the faint whiteness made the night seem less dark.

Following the sound of the tongue whistle, Lin Fang headed toward the abandoned graveyard outside the village. According to the villagers, this graveyard once belonged to a large family. For some unknown reason, the family members died one after another, and the survivors had moved away, their whereabouts unknown. Left untended, the vast graveyard had fallen into ruin over the years.

As she neared the graveyard, the whistle suddenly stopped. Lin Fang called out, “It’s me,” and the sound resumed.

Chen Dong was curled up in the watchman’s former hut, a tiny room. She sat on the edge of the kang, hugging her knees, motionless except for the repeated whistling of “The Camel Bells.”

The door and window frames had long been stripped away, leaving gaping black holes facing the broken kang. Years of neglect had left the walls riddled with holes of various sizes. If there were stars in the sky, one wouldn’t even need to step outside to see them—they were visible right from inside the room. At that moment, a small patch of snow lay on the ground in front of the kang.

Lin Fang first wrapped the fleece sweater around Chen Dong’s neck, then untied the thin quilt from Heipi and tightly wrapped it around Chen Dong. Throughout, Chen Dong didn’t move a muscle—her body was frozen stiff.

Heipi jumped onto the kang and lay down behind Chen Dong, half encircling her waist. This was something it often did, so it knew its role without Lin Fang’s instruction.

Pulling the canteen from her coat, Lin Fang held it near Chen Dong’s face but didn’t let it touch her. For someone frozen stiff, warmth had to be reintroduced slowly; too much too soon could harm the body.

When she judged the time right, Lin Fang unscrewed the cap and brought the spout to Chen Dong’s lips, commanding, “Spit out the whistle. Drink.”

A small object slid from Chen Dong’s mouth and landed in the folds of the quilt.

Lin Fang carefully fed Chen Dong water until she shook her head slightly. Then she screwed the cap back on and tucked the canteen into Chen Dong’s arms inside the quilt, where its residual heat could serve as a warmer.

Next, she pulled out the roasted sweet potatoes from her coat, unwrapped one, and rewrapped the rest before tucking them into Chen Dong’s embrace.

This time, without Lin Fang saying a word, Chen Dong opened her mouth as the sweet potato neared her lips, taking small, slow bites.

Lin Fang had deliberately chosen slender, smaller sweet potatoes for easier eating.

After feeding her one, Lin Fang retrieved the canteen from the quilt and gave Chen Dong a few more sips of water before putting it back. She didn’t offer more food or speak, only carefully found the tongue whistle and slipped it into Chen Dong’s pocket. Then she stood quietly in front of Chen Dong, waiting for her to recover.

After a while, a hoarse voice emerged from Chen Dong’s lips: “I thought I’d get to make an ice sculpture tonight.”

Lin Fang snapped, “Hmph, still cracking jokes. Seems like you won’t be dying anytime soon. You’ve really stirred up trouble this time—what are you going to do?” The girl had chopped off her eldest sister’s hand, and whether her sister was alive or dead was still unknown.

Chen Dong replied slowly, “Good thing I reacted fast, or it would’ve been my head rolling.”

Lin Fang was stunned. “How did it come to this?”

Chen Dong was fifteen. Her five sisters were each two years older than the next, meaning her eldest sister was twenty-five—already considered an unmarriageable old maid in the countryside. Though usually eccentric and lacking familial warmth, she wasn’t stupid enough to turn on her own sister and invite disaster.

“Money, of course. In this world, when money’s involved, anything can happen.” These words came from a girl in the bloom of youth.

As Chen Dong gradually recovered, she began recounting the events that had led to this.

About three miles from Yiping Village ran a large east-west river. On the eastern embankment grew a rare plant. Its stems and leaves were unremarkable—at a glance, it looked like ordinary wild grass, indistinguishable from others. The rarity lay in its roots, which were knobby, resembling the nodules of leguminous plants.

Strangely, this plant seemed fixated on the embankment. It didn’t grow in the fertile soil on either side of the river, choosing only the slope on the eastern embankment, as if it disdained all other locations.

These root nodules were said to be a precious medicinal herb, capable of curing rare and stubborn diseases. Exactly what ailments they treated, the villagers didn’t know. They only knew the herb was exorbitantly expensive—a single liang could fetch a television set. Many risked arrest to secretly dig for it. Over the years, the embankment had been hollowed out to the point of collapse, and the herb had nearly vanished.

To support herself and stay in school, Chen Dong had joined the risky ranks of nodule diggers. But no matter how fierce or slippery she was, she was still just a young girl. She’d been caught several times, but her age meant the police could only confiscate her haul, lecture her, and let her go.

Over time, a medicinal merchant took notice of Chen Dong and struck a deal: if she dug up nodules, he’d buy them at 20% above the going rate, on the condition that she sell exclusively to him. If she broke the agreement, she’d owe him five times the price.

Chen Dong’s return this time was for a scheduled delivery. The merchant always paid her for the previous batch upon receiving the new one. She came back weekly but never went home, heading straight to the embankment to hide in a corner until nightfall, when she’d sneak out to dig.

Here, Chen Dong laughed self-deprecatingly and said to Lin Fang, “You’ve always wondered how I learned to swim, right? It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you—I just didn’t want you and Mom and Dad to worry. I’ve slipped into the river many times but couldn’t cry for help. I was afraid the nodules I’d worked so hard to dig up would be confiscated again, so I had to figure it out myself. After enough tries, I somehow learned to swim.”

Lin Fang scolded her through tears, “And you can still laugh about it? You’re lucky you didn’t drown.”

“Heh, the good die young, but the wicked live a thousand years. Someone like me won’t die so easily.”

After this quip, Lin Fang ignored her, her face cold. Chen Dong continued her story.

She’d arranged to meet the merchant at the graveyard, but this time, for some reason, he’d delivered the payment early to her home. On her way back by bike, she ran into him and heard about it. Panicked, she pedaled furiously home. Whether the money had gone to her parents or sisters, if she didn’t fight for it, she’d get nothing.

At home, arguments and scuffles ensued. Then, to her own surprise, her eldest sister grabbed a kitchen knife and lunged at her like a madwoman.

At first, Chen Dong just dodged. But when her other sisters joined in, clearly intent on killing her, she snapped, wrested the knife away, and chopped off her eldest sister’s hand.

Chen Dong was only fifteen. Her five sisters were each fierce as wolves and tigers. How she’d escaped with her life, Chen Dong described lightly, but the details were something Lin Fang couldn’t bear to imagine.

After a silence, Lin Fang asked, “What are you going to do now?”

Instead of answering, Chen Dong said, “Light me a cigarette.”

Unlike usual, Lin Fang didn’t scold her for smoking. She pulled the cigarette case and matches from Chen Dong’s pocket, placed a cigarette between her lips, struck a match to light it, and waited quietly for Chen Dong to speak.

When only the butt remained, Lin Fang plucked the cigarette from Chen Dong’s mouth, tossed it to the ground, and stamped it out. Then she waited for Chen Dong’s answer to her question.