Just as dawn was breaking, Shen Qiufeng was roused by roosters crowing outside the yard. She rubbed her throbbing temples and sat up. Her first task was to open the camphorwood chest in the corner of the main hall鈥攖he one sealed with raw lacquer. It had been her grandfather's. The lock had long rusted shut. She found a screwdriver and, with great effort, pried it open.



At the bottom of the chest lay a layer of yellowed homespun cloth, wrapped around a thin book: the Shen family genealogy. The paper had aged to a straw color, but the ink remained clear. Shen Qiufeng sat on a low stool, fingertips gently tracing the pages, reading line by line:



Brother Shen Wance, born in the 13th year of Daoguang (1833), moved his family and younger brother Wanxi to Huaixi Creek during the Tongzhi reign. Brother Shen Wanxi, born 1835, died 1865 from bandit violence. Shen Chengye, born in the 5th year of Tongzhi (1866), worked as a carpenter. Shen Chuanxi, born in the 14th year of Guangxu (1888). Shen Changshan, born in the 14th year of the Republic, farmer (marginal note: lost contact in 1978...). Shen Changyuan, born in the 16th year of the Republic, enlisted in the army in the 33rd year of the Republic and never returned, details unknown.



Then came her father, Shen Jianguo, born in 1952. There was no record of her or her brother. Clearly, the genealogy hadn't been updated in over twenty years.



Shen Changyuan enlisted and never returned? That meant her grandfather had a younger brother whose fate was unknown. This was an important lead.



Flipping to the last few pages, she found a faded black-and-white photo wedged between them. Two middle-aged men: her grandfather, about fifty, wearing a Dacron shirt, his smile bright and open; the other wore glasses, refined-looking, about the same age. On the back, written in fountain pen: "To my brother Changshan, Chen Youshan, Summer 1975, Huaixi."



"Chen Youshan?" Shen Qiufeng murmured. The name was both foreign and familiar. She called out to her mother: "Ma, do you remember Chen Youshan? Grandpa's friend?"



Her mother came over, stared at the photo for a long moment, her gaze gradually growing distant: "I remember... He was sent down from Guangzhou for re-education. He and your grandpa were thick as thieves. Later in '78, when it was time to go back to the city, your grandpa saw him off at the county bus station. He came back in a daze, and after that... Chen Youshan vanished. Some say he disappeared on the road back to the city. Not long after, your grandpa disappeared too."



Shen Qiufeng looked down at the black-and-white photo in her hands. Summer 1975, Huaixi. One had been missing for twenty years. The other had vanished into thin air on the road home.



She turned the photo over, then back. A thin layer of dust clung to her fingertips.



She took the genealogy and walked to the little shop at the head of the village. The owner, Uncle Li, was one of the village elders and had watched her grow up. When she asked about Chen Youshan, he took a slow drag from his pipe and said unhurriedly: "That Guangzhou fellow鈥攃ultured, refined, knew calligraphy too. He was always running over to your house, holed up in the side room with your grandpa for whole afternoons. Then he left, and no one saw him again. Some say he went back to Guangzhou, others say... there was an accident."



"Did my grandpa act strange around that time?" Shen Qiufeng pressed.



Uncle Li thought for a moment. "Yes! After Chen Youshan returned to the city, your grandpa kept going to the post office, running into the county. Oh, and when your father was young, your grandpa taught him martial arts. Said it was 'handed down from the Shen family.' Too bad your dad was frail鈥攈e didn't keep it up long."



Shen Qiufeng thanked Uncle Li and headed home, lost in thought. The walk back was a blur. The genealogy had never explained why Shen Wance moved to Huaixi鈥攐nly that it was "to avoid disaster." Chen Youshan's disappearance, her grandfather's strange behavior, her father's early death, and her grandpa's younger brother who joined the army and never came home鈥攖hese fragments were like scattered beads, as if an invisible thread ran through them all.



In the following days, she wandered through every room. These empty rooms had been locked for years, thick with dust. She found a room and opened the door; the stench of mildew hit her. The room was bare except for an old wooden table and a few planks of lumber stacked in the corner.



She crouched down, using the thin light filtering through the window cracks, and noticed that one brick beneath the table leg looked like it had been pried at the edges. Could her grandfather have hidden something in this room?