31: The Terrifying Prophecy Before Father’s Death

People can never escape one thing: death.

This sudden realization made me understand that my grandmother never expected she would pass away so abruptly, though she had prepared for such possibilities. Living alone in the old house, with my mother and me seldom visiting, she knew that an accident could happen at any time. To ensure we would know how to handle her affairs, she had written a letter long ago, in case she couldn’t explain things before her passing. If I hadn’t discovered the letter under the meditation cushion, I believe the little spirit she raised would have guided me to it, just as it later directed me to the slip of paper about the burial.

Reflecting on my grandmother's circumstances, I realized that although she and Mr. Xu did not walk the exact same path, both could foresee their own deaths. In fact, my grandmother had no premonition of her death. This proved that her passing was extremely sudden, so much so that she herself did not sense it coming. The perpetrator must be skilled in such matters, having secretly arranged everything to cloud her senses and launch a surprise attack.

Thinking of this, rage flared in my chest, barely contained—I wished I could drag out the culprit and tear them apart. Now that I understood the situation with the letter, I could refute the suspicion that Xu Neverlive deliberately left it to lure me closer. Yet his impersonation of Mr. Xu remained difficult to explain.

"By the way, how do you know my uncle?" Xu Lei’s sudden question caught me off guard.

"Your uncle? Xu Daring is your uncle?" I asked in surprise.

Xu Lei nodded. "Even most people in the village don’t know that my father has a twin brother. What they really don’t know is that most of my father’s skills were taught by my uncle. He lives nowhere in particular, sometimes stays at our house, and when my father is away and someone needs help, he'll step in. No one has realized he's my father's twin."

The revelation was shocking. The Feng Shui master of Xishan Village, Mr. Xu, was actually taught by his older brother, Xu Neverlive—implying that Xu Neverlive’s skills surpassed his brother's. Now that his identity was clear, I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or helpless.

No wonder, then, that Xu Neverlive was unfazed even after I learned Mr. Xu had died—he was, in fact, the true Feng Shui master of Xishan Village. I also wondered if the person my grandmother mentioned in her letter was meant to be Xu Daring, the elder brother, rather than the younger.

This would explain why Xu Neverlive told me on the burial hill, “How do you know there’s only one Mr. Xu in Xishan Village? How can you be sure your grandmother wasn’t seeking me?” He had long known she would look for him upon her death, hence his presence at my home.

Given his skills, Xu Neverlive surely knew his brother was murdered by an enemy, yet he remained calm throughout. Now that his identity was clear, I felt at ease, but soon found myself troubled—if Xu Neverlive was truly helping me, then Grandfather Qin’s intentions needed further scrutiny.

Perhaps even Grandfather Qin was unaware that Mr. Xu had a twin brother. Upon hearing of Mr. Xu’s death, he assumed Xu Neverlive was an impostor, hence his warning. Maybe the two men, both unfamiliar with each other and wanting to help, ended up suspicious due to some unclear circumstances—each believing the other to be a villain, resulting in the earlier misunderstandings.

The truth seemed to be emerging as Xu Neverlive’s identity was confirmed. To avoid another round of suspicion and confusion, I decided it was necessary to arrange a meeting between the two, to clear up lingering doubts.

I had come to Xishan Village to confirm the situation with Mr. Xu and Xu Neverlive. The answers exceeded my expectations, and as time grew late, I left at once.

“Wait a moment,” called the granddaughter of Mr. Xu as I stepped out of the courtyard.

“My name is Xu Xue. What’s yours?”

“Chen Ziwu.”

“Chen Ziwu, will my grand-uncle be staying at your house for a while?”

Xu Xue looked at me seriously. I wasn’t sure why she was asking about Xu Neverlive’s whereabouts, so I replied that he might stay, or might not—I couldn’t decide his movements.

“Please tell my grand-uncle, it’s one thing for my father not to avenge my grandfather, since it was forced on him. But if he refuses to avenge his own brother, then I will seek revenge for my grandfather myself—even if it costs me my life, I will do it,” Xu Xue said, her eyes red with emotion, before turning back into the courtyard.

Watching her walk away, I wondered: if my grandmother truly was murdered, what would I do? Should I, like Xu Xue, find a way to avenge her?

On returning to town, just as I was waiting for the bus, Xu Neverlive hurried over, carrying a neat wooden box. He asked, “Did you get the answers you were seeking?”

Embarrassed, my face grew hot—I knew I’d gone too far last night, and gave a sheepish smile.

“Forget it. Since you’re still tolerable, I won’t bother arguing,” he said, grinning. His expression suddenly turned serious. “Now that things have reached this point, let me share my observations. You’re too suspicious, but also too easily trusting. You chase shadows, and once something is verified, you believe it completely. Are you aware of this problem now?”

I knew he was alluding to my trust in Grandfather Qin. Thinking there might be a misunderstanding, I couldn’t help but retort, “Old man, could you be mistaken? You two haven’t even met, both want to help me, and since some things aren’t clear, you end up badmouthing each other?”

“Heh…” Xu Neverlive snorted, staring at me. “How do you know we haven’t met? Still, the same thing: whether you trust me or not is your business. I will continue doing what I must. As for that old man, I repeat—he’s not as simple as you think. If you believe him, fine, but if something happens, don’t expect me to save you.”

The older they get, the more stubborn they become.

It seemed Xu Neverlive and Old Qin had indeed met. But given their mutual suspicion, would they ever sit down calmly to discuss things? I understood why Xu Neverlive acted as he did, and began pondering how I could get the two old men to sit together peacefully—for I truly didn’t want two good people to fight while the real villain benefited.

Thinking of my grandmother’s sudden death, I asked, “Old man, was my grandmother murdered?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just tell me—was she killed?”

“So what if she was? So what if she wasn’t? Take care of yourself, don’t spend all day worrying.”

Evasion is a form of concealment. In that moment, I was one hundred percent certain my grandmother had been murdered; otherwise, Xu Neverlive wouldn’t answer like that.

“Your granddaughter Xu Xue asked me to tell you: if you don’t avenge her grandfather, then she will—even if it costs her life.”

Xu Neverlive’s shoulder visibly trembled. I saw the muscles by his jaw tighten and relax, his fist veins bulging. He stared into the distance; though I saw him in profile, I could feel the intensity of his gaze—cold and furious.

Clearly, Xu Neverlive had always kept his brother’s death close to his heart. The only reason he hadn’t acted was because my family’s troubles demanded his attention.

Thinking of my grandmother, who was also murdered, I took a deep breath and made a decision in my heart: I would learn the skills, and avenge her.

Once the village’s troubles were resolved, I would pour over the books she left me, master her craft, and find out who was behind it all—so they would know the true meaning of regret.

This resolve became deeply rooted in my heart.

On the way home, Xu Neverlive remained silent. I knew the pain of being unable to avenge his brother weighed heavily on him, so I didn’t press him, leaving space for quiet contemplation of all that had happened.

Some doubts were resolved, but new questions arose.

After dinner, Xu Neverlive took his wooden box and went to arrange his room. I stayed in the kitchen, preparing to ask my mother what my father had said before his death that had come true last night.

My father died young; my memories of him were always hazy. But after hearing my mother’s murmurs last night, I sensed he wasn’t as simple as I’d always thought.

When I brought up my father’s last words, my mother seemed terrified, trembling all over. After much comfort, she finally calmed down.

"Before your father died, he said something. At the time, I thought it was nonsense, but after what happened last night, I realized I’d misjudged him. It was as if he’d seen the future."

My mother said my father’s death was also sudden. A week before, he was healthy, but after coming home soaked from work, he began to fall ill. Each day his condition worsened, and even after injections and medicine, nothing helped. Grandmother even tried to call upon spirits, but it was all in vain—he grew weaker each day, and in his final hours, his mind began to blur.

At this point, my mother gave a helpless smile, saying my father took her for his first love, holding her hand and calling out his sweetheart’s name.

A few minutes before he passed, my father suddenly became lucid, as if revived, and spoke some words of reluctance. As he finished, his consciousness faded again, and grandmother left the room, unable to bear it.

As soon as she left, my father said, "Xiaolan, these days I keep dreaming the same thing. With mom around, I didn’t dare say it. In my dream, at her burial, the crowing rooster under the coffin calls out, bringing all the village’s roosters to crow together. Afterward, they all die—not one more, not one less, exactly a hundred, all buried with mom. I also dreamt that those who carried her coffin died, one after another, each death more tragic than the last. After them, it was the villagers—a chain of deaths, one after another…"

Hearing this, I shivered violently.

If someone else had said it, I would have dismissed it as nonsense. But my mother’s retelling made me believe it. My father, it seemed, really foresaw the future.

At grandmother’s burial, when the coffin touched the ground, the rooster beneath it suddenly crowed, and all the village roosters followed. When the coffin rooster died, every rooster in the village died. When we cleaned up the dead roosters, I counted ninety-nine; with the one from the mountain, it made exactly a hundred.

Everything had come true. Now, I wondered—if it was real, then deaths would soon follow.

Just as this thought flashed through my mind, outside came the tearful voice of Brother Li’s wife, Sister Liu: “Ziwu’s mother, something’s wrong—Old Li is in trouble.”