With that answer, many of the questions could be solved as easily as a blade splitting bamboo. It meant that the photograph of the execution ground had most likely been taken in Chengdu. In other words, those three revolutionaries had been killed in Chengdu! The third man had also been arrested and killed for engaging in anti-Qing activities there. The clouds surrounding the photograph would soon part to reveal the sky. The heaviness in Yang Zhipeng's heart began to lift. He felt he was on the verge of unraveling the mystery.
The fat woman seemed unconcerned with how closely he resembled the third martyr in the photograph. Instead, she said calmly, "Back then, this missionary named Qiong wanted to photograph the execution ground, and my grandfather gave permission. The missionary also promised to take a photograph of my grandfather."
That was actually the second question Yang Zhipeng wanted to ask, but he had feared being too abrupt, so he had asked her surname first. Now he asked, "Could you tell me your grandfather's name?"
Some people were like that when they talked: they paid more attention to their own thoughts than anything else. This woman was one of them. Talking to her was exhausting; her answers kept wandering away from other people's questions. Yang Zhipeng decided to cut straight to the heart of it. "Do you know who the people being shot in that photograph were?"
Yang Zhipeng was stunned again. He even wondered whether something was wrong with the woman's mind. Your grandfather must have been dead for decades. Why are you looking for him? He had no idea what she was trying to do. Had she come here just to frighten people?
Lost in her own thoughts, the woman ignored Yang Zhipeng's reaction this time. Instead, she turned