Chapter 3

Chapter 3

At about seven the next morning, I was drifting through dreams I can no longer remember when someone began pounding urgently on our door.

I jolted out of bed.

My first thought was whether Dad had made it home the night before. To my relief, as I reached my bedroom door, I saw him emerge from the main room.

He crossed the courtyard and opened the gate.

The village chief’s anxious voice came from outside. “Fusheng, where are your brother and sister-in-law?”

“They aren’t home? I could have sworn I took them back last night. Did they go to the Earth God temple at the village entrance to see Tianye?”

Tianye’s body had been moved there during the night.

“No,” the chief said. “We’re about to call the funeral home, but your brother’s house is empty. No one’s seen either of them.”

“The reservoir?”

“I looked from a distance. No one was there.”

“Come on. I’ll help you search.”

Uncle Guisheng and Aunt were missing?

I was about to follow when Grandma came out of her room.

“Fusheng,” she called. “Has something happened to your brother’s family?”

Dad froze, not knowing how to answer. When she asked again, his gaze wavered and he lowered his head, unable to meet her eyes.

The chief understood and hurried to say, “We just don’t know where Guisheng went. Nothing’s wrong. Fusheng and I will find him.”

Grandma’s lips trembled and her eyes reddened.

“Stop lying to me. Take me with you. We’re going to the reservoir.”

“I’ve already checked there,” the chief said. “Guisheng isn’t—”

“The reservoir,” Grandma repeated firmly.

She looked as though she already knew Uncle Guisheng was there—and knew that something had happened to him.

The chief glanced at Dad. Dad looked at Grandma. She ignored them both and started walking, so the three of us hurried after her.

No one spoke along the way. We met several villagers who, after hearing that my uncle and aunt were missing, joined us.

At the reservoir, the two rings of Buddhas still stood on the drying bed. But when we drew closer, we saw that the ground enclosed by the rings had been visibly disturbed, as though freshly plowed.

“Fusheng…” Grandma pointed at the earth and began to weep. “Your brother is under there.”

“Mom, don’t say that.” Dad tried to support her, but she only cried harder.

“I don’t remember the ground looking like this last night,” the chief muttered.

He led several of us into the rings to dig. We had brought no shovels, so we clawed at the loosened soil with our bare hands.

Before long, a corner of a shirt appeared.

A chill ran down my back. Uncle Guisheng had worn a shirt that color the night before.

Only seconds later, someone beside me shouted, “Hair! There’s hair here!”

Several gray-streaked locks protruded from the earth.

Was that Aunt?

Were they really buried beneath us?

Who had killed them? Who had hidden them here?

My mud-caked hands began to shake. I looked at Dad and saw grief written across his face.

“Guisheng! My Guisheng!”

Grandma threw herself to the ground, wailing.

“Call the police!” the village chief shouted, stamping his feet. “Call them now!”

But Grandma, half kneeling in the dirt, suddenly grabbed his trouser leg.

“No police,” she pleaded, her face frantic. “Whatever you do, don’t call the police!”