Let’s talk about me first. I was born in 1943. I started attending private schools the year the country was liberated, but within a few years I stopped attending private schools because the old school was outlawed. My father was arrested in 1959 because he was a gang member. Less than a year after he was imprisoned, he fell seriously ill and died after treatment failed.
At that time, the prison staff brought my father's body back, and the family organized a funeral and took inventory of the family property. My mother was widowed for a year and then remarried. Before she remarried, she entrusted me to my father's half-brother, my uncle Chen Bingli. My uncle was in the teahouse business, so I had been working as a handyman in his teahouse. I was only seventeen years old that year.
Frankly speaking, even though I knew that it would be difficult for a mother to live with a child, and even though I knew that few people would accept a widow with a teenage child, I still blamed my mother very much. , shared the joys and sorrows with me, but when in trouble, she chose to bear it alone.
Since it was the early days of liberation, the apparent unity of the military and civilians could not change the truth that every small place had its own rivers and lakes. One day the army suddenly rushed to the teahouse and began to arrest a man dressed as a commoner. After a fight, the man dressed as a commoner suddenly took out a dagger from his arms and waved it at the army people. One of them The soldier shot him dead.
If I remember correctly, it was the first time I saw a dead person, and it was someone who died before my eyes. As an ordinary citizen, I always believe that the army is responsible for eliminating violence and bringing peace and stability. Since this man was beaten to death by soldiers, he must deserve to die. Sure enough, after the army took away the body, one of the men dressed as a political commissar told his uncle that he had just been beaten to death. That person was a pawn planted by the Kuomintang reactionaries in the local area ten years ago. He was a spy. Your place has housed spies. If you don’t know about it, you won’t be held accountable. Today we have eliminated the enemy and established another foundation for Chairman Mao. One merit.
At that time, my uncle and I were trembling with fear. When faced with the political commissar's words, my uncle could only nod his head. In the next few days, the teahouse was closed for business. My uncle told me that something like this happened in the store and people died. It was so unlucky that no one came to drink tea even if it was open. Everyone avoided it.
But in fact, I know in my heart that my uncle, like me, is afraid. He is afraid that when he opens the door, he will be asked about the ins and outs of this matter. If he doesn't tell it, he will appear to be secretive. If he talks too much, the army will come to deal with us again. It's better. Temporarily close the door to thank guests and avoid the limelight. But just a few days later, something strange happened.
That night was the same as before. After dinner with my uncle, I cleaned up and down the store. The blood stains left on the ground by the man who was shot to death earlier had almost been cleaned. Then I After chatting with uncle for a while, they went back to their rooms to sleep. In the middle of the night, I heard the sound of porcelain being broken.
The sound was very strange, as if someone was holding the bowl incorrectly and the bowl fell to the ground and was shattered. There was only one sound at first, but soon there was a second sound, and then the sounds of bowl smashing began to appear densely. It felt like many people smashed the bowls in their hands at the same time. I originally opened the door to see what was going on. Was there a thief in the store?
If it was a thief, he was probably sneaking around for fear of making any noise. How could he be so blatant? But when I opened the door and followed the sound, I passed by my uncle's door, but he suddenly grabbed me and then pulled me into his room. I was about to ask him what happened and why he didn't go check if there was such a big movement, but I saw my uncle's face was pale and his whole body was shaking. He just shook his head and felt like he wanted to speak but couldn't.
Just like this, another short while passed, and the sound of bowls being thrown almost never stopped. I felt that if someone was deliberately throwing bowls, he would have smashed all the bowls in his life, and then it finally stopped. .
I heard no sound, so I asked my uncle if he wanted to go and have a look. My uncle still shook his head and grabbed my sleeve with his hand. It seemed that he had no intention of letting me go. After midnight, my uncle and I maintained this posture. No matter what I asked him, he shook his head and didn't answer. But judging from his expression, he obviously knew something. Maybe he was not ready, maybe I didn't think about how to speak, so we just sat like this until the rooster crowed and the sky started to light up.
Seeing that it was getting dark, my uncle let go of my sleeves, but he spoke for the first time that day. He was telling me, sit here and don't move, I will go and take a look. After saying that, his uncle opened the door softly and walked towards the place where the sound of throwing bowls came from last night.
The teahouse was just that big, so it was easy to tell that the sound was coming from the lobby. In the lobby, in addition to teapots, wine pots and other ceramic items, there are eight tea cups placed on each small square table. Because there have been no guests in the past few days, they are all held upside down. This eliminates the need to clean it every day. And that night when my uncle and I were sitting stupidly, I thought that the sound of smashing bowls must have come from the lobby, and those smashed bottles must also be the pile of bottles and cans.
It's just that it took a while after my uncle left. I stood inside the door and called for my uncle, but he didn't answer me. So I couldn't help but walked over, only to see my uncle sitting silently on a stool smoking a cigarette. Teacups and teapots broken into small pieces were everywhere on the ground.
Although I had expected it, I was still shocked by the mess in front of me. I quickly started to check the doors and windows, and found that there was no damage or signs of someone breaking in. So what was going on with the debris on the ground. My uncle smoked in distress, and coupled with his unusual behavior last night, I knew he must know something in his heart.
At the age of seventeen, I had a somewhat impatient temper. When my mother entrusted me to my uncle, I knew that if my mother took me with her, she would inevitably suffer a lot in the future, so I was very grateful to my uncle for taking me in. Although he is my father's brother, he has not had much contact with me over the years. Instead, at times like this, he is willing to keep me around to help out.
So I also hoped to help my uncle share his worries, but seeing that he didn't say a word, I was also very anxious. Then I squatted down next to my uncle and said to him, uncle, if you know what happened last night, just tell me. I am your family.
This must be the first time that I have spoken to my uncle in the tone of a family member. My uncle is a simple and honest man. I really don’t believe that he will form grudges with others. My uncle looked at me in silence for a while, then spoke. Children, something evil happened to our teahouse last night.
Something evil? What an evil thing. I asked. My uncle told me, do you remember the spy who was beaten to death by soldiers in our teahouse a few days ago? I said remember, this kind of thing happened right under my nose, and it’s impossible to forget it.
The uncle said with a sad face, I counted the days, last night should be the first seven of the dead person, and the first seven are usually the souls of the dead. He died here, or was shot to death. He must have been unwilling to do so, so he came to our place last night to cause a scene while he was still alive.
Although I was studying in the old school and had not had much time to accept new trends of thought, when my uncle said these words, I immediately didn’t know how to answer them. Because I think it's too ridiculous. There were so many soldiers killed in the war, most of them killed by gunfire. Why didn't something like this happen? So I asked my uncle, "Uncle, please don't talk nonsense. If this person is dead, he is dead. Where does the idea of returning to the soul come from? It's all made up by those ghosts and ghosts to scare the people."
It was either a wild cat or a mouse that just broke our things last night. I'm afraid you were just scaring yourself.
I tried to comfort my uncle in my own way. Although I believed that the debris on the ground was definitely not caused by wild cats or rats, it was still difficult for me to believe that it was the ghost of a dead person who came back to cause trouble.
But my uncle spit on me and said, you little brat, what do you know? Last night you left the room and wanted to come over, but I grabbed you. Do you know why? I asked, why? Uncle said, that's because I know it's a ghost throwing a tantrum and smashing things. If you were to walk over like this and bump into the dead soul, and the trouble would become even worse, you would still be in danger!
I couldn't help laughing and said, uncle, please stop thinking nonsense. You guys have old ideas. You always think that those weird things are caused by goblins and ghosts. The more you think like this, the more you think about it, the more you think. The more trust you get.
Although I was smiling, I was still a little touched by my uncle's behavior of stopping me because he was worried about me last night. But the uncle said that I was not talking nonsense, because I saw the dead man before the noise started.
When my uncle said this, I was speechless again. My uncle is a very sincere person. He is usually honest and honest. He rarely even makes jokes with others. Occasionally, when a tea guest makes a joke, my uncle just smiles stupidly. Now that he said this, although it was unbelievable, I began to believe it.
My uncle then told me that when he was sleeping until midnight, he suddenly felt a strange noise in the room where he slept. There was no light on in the room at that time, and my uncle was in a daze, but he felt that the sound was getting closer and closer to him, and it was getting louder and louder.
I quickly asked my uncle what kind of sound it was. My uncle said he couldn't describe it. It felt like someone was gasping for air at a very rapid pace. It is also accompanied by a hoarse feeling similar to that after shouting too much. This rapid feeling is a bit like the feeling of a person who is particularly angry but unable to speak. The uncle said that originally something like this happened in the store, and he was very upset.
I thought that just running a small business and giving tea to people would be considered as accumulating virtue. Who would have expected that people would be shot and die in front of me. But when the sound appeared, my uncle didn't think about it. He was in a daze and just wanted to figure out what the sound was. So he stood up and planned to turn on the light to see, but when he got up, For a moment, there was a sudden tightening feeling on his face.
The uncle said that it felt like a sudden gust of wind after sweating all over. At this moment, my uncle was completely awake. The first reaction after waking up was to think about whether he was dreaming, but he found that his body had already sat up. In addition, the voice was still echoing in his ears, and the feeling on his face also changed. It was so real that my uncle was frightened and rushed over to turn on the light in the room. The moment he turned on the light, his eyes were very dazzling because he had been in the dark for a long time. Even so, his uncle suddenly saw his own eyes. In front of the bed stood a man with a slightly hunched back and hunched shoulders.
