The photos attached to the end of the file had been packed in an envelope, while the video was saved on a USB drive.
I started the video and took out the photos.
The oldest photos had probably been taken with an old camera. An orange date was printed in the lower-right corner, and the images had a dated feel to them. The colors were vivid, almost unnaturally so.
Mr. Duan and his wife, whom I had seen in the video earlier, were the stars of the photos. The supporting cast included people who had also appeared in the video, and the backgrounds changed from one photo to the next: the seaside, in front of a sculpture, at a park, at an amusement park. Their children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren all appeared in them.
One set of photos had been taken at a hotel. Behind a huge round table, people crowded together, some sitting and some standing. A big cake sat in the middle of the table. The cake and the number of candles on it changed in each photo. Fourteen years, fourteen photos. Mr. Duan's children grew older, and his grandchildren and the younger children grew up. The only things that never changed were the two elderly people and the smiles on everyone's faces.
There were more photos from school, from the fresh-faced beginnings of their school years to graduation pictures in caps and gowns. Then came photos of newlyweds.
The video started playing on the computer.
Mr. Duan and his wife appeared with a faint shadow over them in the video. I could tell it was yin energy. They weren't alive, but in the video they looked just like ordinary living people.
Laughter came from the video.
I couldn't help feeling a little dazed.
Ye Qing... had seen