The Strange Old Man

Back in the village, it was already high noon.

The old house naturally had no food stored, but Jiang Yue had brought back plenty of ingredients from the city the day before when he returned.

The kitchen was very crude, with only a small stove that burned honeycomb briquettes, though a few hundred briquettes were stockpiled.

After all, it was a holiday, so it couldn't be too shabby.

Salted duck was a cooked dish brought back from the city, plus a plate of stir-fried beef, a plate of braised fish chunks, and a few home-style sides.

This meal was quite presentable, with meat and vegetables balanced, and full of color, aroma, and flavor. It really whetted San Gou's appetite.

"Second Brother, can we talk about something?" San Gou gnawed on a duck leg, mumbling as he ate.

"No discussion!" Jiang Yue didn't even look up.

"I haven't even said what it is yet." San Gou grew anxious.

"I know what it is without you saying it."

"Then tell me. If you're wrong, you have to agree to one thing." San Gou tried to be clever.

"You want me to take you to the city. Fine! Get into the city's middle school."

San Gou's little schemes were clear as day to Jiang Yue.

That one word—"get in"—deflated San Gou like a balloon pricked by a needle.

The duck leg in his mouth instantly lost its flavor.

"Second Brother, I promise I'll just go play for two days. Just take me along for fun."

Qingming had a short holiday, and playing for two or three days wasn't a big deal. But San Gou was like a monkey—give him an inch, and he'd take a mile.

If Jiang Yue agreed too readily, there'd definitely be a string of follow-up requests. Better to let him stew for now.

San Gou had no idea what Jiang Yue was thinking and was about to pester him when someone called out from the yard.

"Is anyone home?"

The brothers went out to see an old man passing by.

A round bamboo hat paired with a green-brown straw rain cape, and on his feet, a pair of straw sandals rarely seen these days, caked with mud.

He was already severely hunched, and with a fish basket on his back, he looked even more stooped.

That rain cape was also peculiar—much wider than usual, with faint, strange patterns that seemed somewhat out of place. Still, it was clear enough that he was a fisherman.

"Young man, this old man is passing through and would like to beg a bowl of water." The old man had a heavy accent, his words barely understandable, but it was indeed the local dialect of these hundred-odd miles.

"Old man, won't you come in and sit a while?" Though the Old Jiang Family wasn't a prominent household, they never lacked in manners. In dealing with others, Jiang Yue had a rare poise for his age.

"No, no, no. This body's all mud; I'd dirty the house." The old man waved his hands repeatedly.

"San Gou, go pour the old man a cup of water."

San Gou scurried inside and brought out a cup of warm water.

The old man took the cup, but just as he brought it to his lips, he shook his head. "Country folk are coarse. A lifetime of drinking boiled water doesn't sit well; it upsets my stomach. Just some well water will do."

"Hey, look at you, old man. Who refuses boiled water and prefers raw?" San Gou grumbled, but his hands were busy as he went to the well at the edge of the yard and drew up a small bucket.

Gulp, gulp, gulp...

Despite the old man's hunched, scrawny frame, he drank with surprising gusto, and an astonishing amount at that.

A small bucket of water was drained to the bottom in the blink of an eye. He smacked his lips, still seeming unsatisfied.

Even San Gou, a glutton who could eat and drink anything, watched in amazement.

Taking the bucket the old man handed back, San Gou was reminded of the time he won a "one more bottle" prize from a drink in the city, and blurted out, "One more bucket?"

"One more bucket?" The old man seemed to weigh whether it was appropriate, then grinned readily. "Then one more bucket it is."

Down went another bucket, again drained to the bottom.

San Gou said nothing aloud, but inwardly grumbled that he'd only ever heard of rice buckets; this was the first time he'd seen a water bucket.

The old man seemed to have had his fill this time and waved to leave.

After a few steps, he wobbled back and beckoned to Jiang Yue.

"Young man, I've drunk two buckets of your water, so I'll give you a few words."

"Please speak, old man."

"Heh heh heh..." The old man let out an inexplicable laugh, and from deep in his throat came a gurgling sound like fish spitting bubbles, as if he muttered something, or maybe nothing at all.

"Remember this, remember this."

Leaving behind a bizarre smile, the old man hobbled away.

"Second Brother, did you catch what he said?"

"Second Brother, you didn't hear it either? That old geezer wasn't messing with us, was he? He clearly said nothing at all." San Gou was furious and wanted to chase after him to argue.

Jiang Yue held him back and shook his head. "Forget it. The old man's that old; it's just two buckets of well water after all."

The brothers returned to the house, disgruntled.

Before they even reached the main hall, the two brothers noticed something unusual in the corridor.

"Eh? Second Brother, what's written on the corridor?!"

Three lines of big characters had suddenly appeared on the corridor, the strokes flowing like dragons and snakes, quite imposing.

The first and second lines each had ten characters, the third had twelve.

Who wrote them?

The back door was shut, no one was inside the house, and the two brothers had been outside the yard the whole time—no one could have come in through the yard gate.

And in such a short time, writing this many characters was highly unscientific.

The strangest thing was that these characters were written in water stains.

Jiang Yue often saw people writing big characters with water in the city.

In parks, or even open spaces in residential areas, old men fond of calligraphy loved to show off a few strokes like that.

What made it strange came down to four points.

First, the characters appeared extremely oddly; the handwriting was unhurried, showing no sign of haste. In such a short time, normal hand speed could hardly accomplish this.

Second, the yard was this small. They stood at the gate, only seven or eight meters from the corridor. Even if someone had sneaked in to write so many characters, they couldn't have done it without making any noise.

Third, when people usually write big characters with water, they fade as they're written, the traces slowly lightening until they disappear. But these water stains seemed even darker than ink, showing no sign of fading at all.

Of course—

The strangest thing was the content of these three lines!

"White Tiger fights Azure Dragon, heaven and earth torn asunder. Vermilion Bird's Spine Broken, the mortal world sees much trouble. A place of right and wrong breeds right and wrong, do not linger long."

If Jiang Yue had only been relying on guesses and premonitions before, these three lines suddenly appearing shattered the last shred of wishful thinking in his heart.

Those earlier premonitions were probably about to be confirmed.

San Gou was only twelve after all. These tongue-twisting words, with his elementary school education not yet complete, he couldn't understand at all, nor could he ponder the deeper meaning behind them. He grabbed the firewood chopper leaning by the door and rushed into the house.

He searched high and low, then came out dejectedly.

Shaking his head: "The back door's locked, and there's no one inside."

"Follow me." Jiang Yue, however, had a realization and quickly walked out of the yard.

"That old man earlier, he went this way, right?"

Jiang Yue led San Gou along the direction the old fisherman had left, chasing all the way to the end of the road, stopping near a small stream.

Jiang Yue pushed aside the grass. A fish basket and a pair of worn straw sandals were abandoned inside.

At the stream, the road came to a dead end, unless they waded across. But with all the rain lately, the stream was deep. Not to mention an old man, even a strong adult couldn't wade across without tools.

And even if they could cross the stream, there was no reason to abandon a fish basket, their means of livelihood.

"Second Brother, look, there's something in the water!"

San Gou, sharp-eyed, pointed at the water and shouted.

Sure enough, twenty or thirty meters downstream, a living creature was bobbing on the waves, swimming away.

It had a head, limbs, a shell on its back with patterns on it.

It was an old turtle.

After seeing it clearly, San Gou sighed, feeling regretful: "If only we had a net. Such a big turtle, a great tonic. Selling it in town, it'd be worth a few hundred at least."

This was when the advantage of youth showed.

Young and ignorant, fearless and without wild associations, he had no confusion.

On the way back, San Gou kept complaining about the old man who had asked for water, convinced he had accomplices and was deliberately putting on an act to mess with them.

As for the motive, San Gou chalked it up to bullying them for being young and having no adults at home.

Jiang Yue didn't explain. There was no need to let a twelve-year-old kid share in this fear.