Fang Family Ancestral Hall

"Ow, ow, ow!" "Ow, ow, ow!" Fang Jibai lay prone on the bed, bare-chested. "Look at you, what a fool. Didn't you know how to dodge?" Third Sister rubbed safflower oil onto his back, her eyes reddened with heartache as she raised her sleeve to dab at their corners. "The one who got kicked isn't even crying, yet the one who did the kicking is shedding golden tears," Fang Jibai mumbled in a muffled voice. "You brat!" Third Sister slapped him on the back. "You mistake good intentions for a donkey's liver and lungs!" "Are you really crying?" Fang Jibai propped himself up with both hands on the bed and turned his head to look at her. "You didn't rub ginger on your eyes, did you?" "Bastard!" Third Sister brought her hand down hard, striking Fang Jibai's back with a loud smack. Just as Fang Jibai let out a theatrical howl, Eldest Sister and Second Sister came in with the children. "Fang Sanmiao, what do you think you're doing!" Eldest Sister immediately picked up a broom and went after Third Sister. "You've bullied Fourth Brother ever since you were small! You living bandit, look around the whole town—is there anyone like you?" "Fang Damiao, I'm getting married tomorrow!" Third Sister shouted, dodging about. "I'm getting married tomorrow!" "All the more reason to thrash you," Eldest Sister huffed. "Once today passes, I won't be able to hit you anymore!" "Eldest Sister, don't hit her face," Second Sister said, pinching a melon seed in her fingers and spitting out the husk with a soft pop. "If her face gets ruined, she won't be able to get married." "I won't be able to get married?" Fang Sanmiao bristled, planting her hands on her hips. "I am a top graduate of Jinling Women's Middle School! I can calculate and plan, hold my own in the parlor, and work in the paddy fields! For Cui Qingping to marry me is eight lifetimes of accumulated fortune for the Cui family!" Fang Jibai kept quiet, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Third Sister taking a scolding. "Whose mother are you calling yourself?" Mother Fang pushed aside the door curtain and entered, glaring as she reprimanded them. "Stop this racket. The courtyard outside is full of relatives and neighbors. You're making a spectacle of yourselves." "Mother." Fang Jibai sat up from the bed. "Are you all right?" Mother Fang asked her fourth son. "I'm fine. Used to it—thick skin and tough meat." Fang Jibai pulled on an undershirt, then slipped into a white button-down. "Where's Father?" Fang Sanmiao immediately cast a sharp glare at her younger brother. "In the ancestral hall. Your father told you to head over," Mother Fang said. "Should I go over right now?" Fang Jibai asked. "Go on," Mother Fang replied. "When you're finished, have a few drinks with your second brother-in-law and eldest brother-in-law." "Understood." …… Sunset approached. The light inside the Fang Family Ancestral Hall seemed frozen in place. Sunlight pierced through the square opening above the courtyard, casting long, slender beams of light that sliced into the gloom of the main hall. Suspended from the hall's crossbeam was a plaque reading Eternal Loyalty and Valor, its gold lacquer peeling and mottled. Fang Lishan held a spirit tablet in both hands, his rough palms gently caressing the ebony wood. Incised in gold-filled regular script were the words: Spirit Tablet of National Revolutionary Army Martyr Fang Jiwei. When Fang Jibai reached the ancestral hall, he happened upon his father staring blankly at Eldest Brother's tablet. "Father, let me do it." Fang Jibai received Eldest Brother's spirit tablet with both hands from his father and set it down carefully. He then fished a coarse cotton cloth from a bucket of water, wrung it out, and set it aside. Taking another dry cloth, he first dusted away the loose grime from Eldest Brother's tablet. Then he picked up the damp cotton cloth and, following the grain of the wood, wiped it clean inch by inch. His fingertips brushed the ebony wood and the name incised as deeply as a ravine. "Eldest Brother, do you smell the scent of osmanthus in the back courtyard?" "I still remember you promised to make me osmanthus cakes." Fang Jibai murmured in a low voice. Fang Lishan's eyes grew red. He held his back as straight as he could, yet turned his head away. Fang Jiwei was his eldest son, a teacher at the Jiangjun Temple branch of Danyang National Higher Primary School, and also a member of the Nationalist Party. In the sixteenth year of the Republic, the Northern Expeditionary Army had been sweeping all before them, taking Henglin on March 19, with Danyang next in line. On the twentieth, to welcome the arrival of the Northern Expeditionary Army, the local district branches of the Nationalist Party and the Red Party in Lücheng organized personnel to gather grain and raise funds to reward the troops. Fang Jiwei and others went to Lücheng Railway Station to receive them, preparing tea and provisions to welcome the Northern Expeditionary Army. Yet unexpectedly, before the Northern Expeditionary Army arrived, what reached the station first was a train carrying retreating troops from the Zhili-Shandong warlords. The members of both the Nationalist Party and the Red Party believed it was the Northern Expeditionary Army, striking up gongs and drums in welcome. Incensed, the routed Zhili-Shandong warlord soldiers seized Fang Jiwei and twelve others, demanding they kneel and shout that the Northern Expeditionary Army deserved death. All thirteen stood firm and unyielding, and the retreating soldiers butchered them one by one with broadswords at the railway station. That year, eldest son Fang Jiwei was twenty-three, and fourth son Fang Jibai was eleven. Having finished wiping it down, Fang Jibai placed Eldest Brother's spirit tablet back with care. "There's also your second brother," Fang Lishan said softly. "Yes," Fang Jibai replied. He lifted Second Brother's spirit tablet with both hands and looked at the gold-filled script: Spirit Tablet of National Revolutionary Army 25th Division, 145th Regiment, First Lieutenant Company Commander Fang Jiyan. Fang Jibai wiped the tablet with meticulous care. In the twenty-second year of the Republic, during the Defense of the Great Wall, Second Brother Fang Jiyan had died for his country. No one even knew where his remains lay; in the Fang family ancestral graveyard, there was only a cenotaph containing his clothing. "Your third sister was clever from a young age, quick to learn everything," Fang Lishan said. "Both your eldest and second brothers doted on her." "I know," Fang Jibai said. "Whenever Third Sister hit me and Mother was about to discipline her, Eldest Brother and Second Brother would always shield her." "Knowing your third sister is getting married, your eldest and second brothers' spirits in heaven will surely be overjoyed," Fang Lishan said. "Surely," Fang Jibai said. "Tomorrow when your third sister leaves to be wed, carry her out of the house on your back," Fang Lishan said. "Mm." "Take your eldest and second brothers with you. The three of you together," Fang Lishan added suddenly. "Yes." Fang Jibai paused for a moment, then nodded. "Father, Eldest Brother, Second Brother, and I will see Third Sister off together." After a brief hesitation, he said softly, "Third Brother..." "Don't mention him. I consider him dead out there," Fang Lishan said coldly. …… Nanjing. Zhang Jiaju sat in a chair. On the table before him lay a cigarette—the very one that "Great Sage" had left behind at No. 21 Shipopo Lane. Zhang Jiaju's eyes remained fixed on it. He picked up the cigarette and examined it closely. It had to be right. Regarding the tiny speck of machine oil on the cigarette, Zhang Jiaju had even conducted an experiment. Ultimately, he confirmed that the machine oil had not rubbed onto the exterior of the cigarette pack and seeped through; rather, Great Sage must have had machine oil on his fingers, transferring it from his fingertips to the cigarette. He had also questioned Liu Antai and confirmed that on the night Great Sage visited, there was no smell of machine oil on him. This indicated that Great Sage's hands had been washed clean by then. And according to Liu Antai, there had been only this single cigarette left in Great Sage's pack. Zhang Jiaju narrowed his eyes. In his mind, a scene began to take shape. A laborer who worked hard yet earned meager wages, scraping by in tight circumstances. With only that one cigarette remaining in the pack, he could not bear to smoke it. He took it out carefully to sniff it, and the machine oil on his fingertips accidentally stained the cigarette. Then, still reluctant to consume even this cheapest Caifeng cigarette, he slipped it back into the pack. At this thought, Zhang Jiaju felt a sudden stir. He pinched the cigarette between two fingers. As the sun sank in the west, sunlight filtered through the windowpane and fell across his body. He stared at the cigarette between his fingertips, lost in thought.