Chapter Four: Overwhelming Joy

The death of my old squad leader was the hardest blow I've suffered in my life. The moment I learned the news, it felt as though the sky itself had turned gray.

He was my mentor, my benefactor; he once saved my life, and together we endured eating maggots. Such a bond between master and apprentice, comrades forged by blood and fire, is one that marks a man for a lifetime. It is a kind of kinship, thicker than water, cultivated bit by bit on the battlefield, tempered within the great crucible of the barracks, watered by heart's blood more vivid than molten iron.

To say that his death was like having my heart torn out is no exaggeration. This funeral stripped me of all hope, all the solace and shelter I once had.

That’s why, at the wedding feast held in his honor, I felt more desolate and downcast than ever. Looking up, I saw white banners fluttering in the sky; looking down, the ground was scattered with freshly thrown paper money. Ahead, the coffin stood, flanked by black-and-white portraits of the squad leader and his bride. Behind me rose the wailing, cracked music of the mourning band.

On this colorless day, the lead singer stood gripping his microphone, belting out the refrain over and over: “Today is a good day! Everything you wish will come true! Today is a good day...”

Damn it! Where did they dig up this so-called “Bitchy” band? If not for the sake of Zhao Haikun and the villagers, I’d have liked nothing better than to grab a kitchen knife and bleed every last one of them!

With this infuriating, inappropriate music blaring, Zhao Hong and I sat at the table, listlessly picking at the ghost-wedding feast, shifting about as if we were sitting on needles.

“What the hell is all this?” I grumbled after tossing back a glass of wine, venting to Zhao Hong. “This is supposed to be a funeral, but it feels like some New Year’s gala. Is this how things are done in the countryside now?”

Unlike me, Zhao Hong showed astounding adaptability and tolerance. He even clapped me on the shoulder in comfort, saying, “Come on, Old Tian! This is how it is nowadays—if a dead person was unmarried, they hold a ghost wedding. To get the whole village to turn out, you have to sing happy songs at both weddings and funerals. Just wait, there’s even ‘adults only’ entertainment lined up for tonight...”

I shot him a glare. “You seem to know an awful lot. Do you go to a lot of funerals or something?”

He waved me off. “Not really. The last one I went to was for my second uncle’s dog.”

I stared at him. “Your uncle held a funeral for his dog?”

He nodded solemnly. “Of course! My second uncle’s a respectable man. When the dog died, he was heartbroken—personally oversaw the whole thing. He even made my cousin wear mourning garb and serve as chief mourner. The banquet lasted three days! It was even grander than this.”

“Enough!” I snapped. “Don’t you dare insult my squad leader by comparing him to a dog!”

Zhao Hong saw my reddened eyes and realized he’d overstepped. He fell silent, sheepishly picking up a piece of beef from the banquet table.

But just then, as I looked at the rosy meat, a strange feeling crept over me.

“Don’t eat the beef!” I blurted, stopping him. “Nothing on this table is exactly... clean. Stay away from the meat!”

He stared wide-eyed. “Huh? But I’ve already eaten a bunch! What do you mean, not clean? Is it dangerous?”

Damn, this guy eats way too fast. I’d barely had a chance to warn him and he’d already loaded up his plate.

But what was done was done. I could only force a laugh and say, “As they say, ‘Pleasure on the tongue, pain down below.’ You’ll have to look after yourself now!”

With that, I stood up to leave this aggravating “wedding” feast. As I turned away, Zhao Hong called after me, “Where are you going? What’s wrong with the food, really?”

I couldn’t be bothered to explain, so I just tossed over my shoulder, “I’m going to check on Wang Hou.”

I left the table. Just as I was about to turn into the Zhao family’s side room, the wailing from the main hall blasted out again.

The lead singer declared, “To commemorate this joyous occasion and to express our heartfelt longing, it’s time for requests! Anyone who wants to bless the newlyweds can choose a song. Fifty-one songs! Sung by our village’s most famous musician...”

That was it—I was furious. I spun around, threw a hundred yuan at Zhao Hong, and told him to pay the singer for a song.

“Have that bastard sing ‘Joyful Sheep’ twice in a row! Maybe if Wang Hou hears it from the back, he’ll wake up!”

Zhao Hong took one look at my murderous expression, pocketed the cash, and hurried off to the musician.

...With the chipper strains of “Joyful Sheep” in the background, my anger eased a little. Only then did I weave through the crowded banquet to the small courtyard where Wang Hou was lying.

As soon as I entered, I spotted Xian Hongye standing guard outside Wang Hou’s room.

Since arriving at the Zhao house, while Zhao Hong and I were “regaining our composure,” Hongye had not been idle. She’d once again demonstrated her excellent social skills—together with Zhao Haikun, she had arranged for the comatose Wang Hou to be settled in the east room. She’d already explained his condition to Zhao Haikun, though she had not mentioned the figure known as “Old Nineteen.”

She handled everything without troubling me. By the time I realized, she and Zhao Haikun were already tending to Wang Hou.

From the bottom of my heart, I was grateful for Hongye’s support. She was a true comrade—thorough and thoughtful in all things.

This is what comradeship forged in battle means.

At that moment, Hongye stood beneath a pomegranate tree in the center of the courtyard, tracing circles in the dirt with her foot, her face clouded and withdrawn, as she had been when we first met.

I knew why she couldn’t bring herself to smile. All the way from Hebei to southern Shandong, the belief that my old squad leader could cure the “White Food Gu” and that I could help her resolve the crisis of “She-Serpent Xiao Jiu’er” had kept her going.

But with the squad leader’s death, those hopes had all but vanished.

Still, compared to Hongye’s despair, I was more optimistic. After all, though the squad leader was gone, his elder brother Zhao Haikun remained. He was from the same temple—surely, he would know something of these matters...

Clinging to this hope, I didn’t let myself be pulled down by Hongye’s gloom. I even forced a smile and greeted her, “You’ve worked hard.”

She glanced at me, then looked away, tracing the ground with her long legs. “Already feeling better? If you haven’t, don’t force a smile. It looks worse than crying.”

I froze awkwardly, then regained my composure and asked, “How’s Wang Hou?”

She gestured toward the room. “He’s inside. Zhao Haikun is using moxa on him, but he said not to get our hopes up. He doesn’t know how to treat a ‘food curse.’”

I nodded and started for the door, but catching sight of Hongye’s forlorn expression, I turned back.

I gently shook her shoulder. “Don’t worry about the Gu. Since I promised, I’ll see it through.”

She nodded and gave me a wan smile.

To be honest, I saw no hope in her smile. But this was all I could offer.

...Resigned, I entered Wang Hou’s sickroom alone, my heart heavy.

The room was small, furnished with only a kang bed, as if meant for guests. As I entered, I saw Wang Hou lying pale upon the bed, while Zhao Haikun sat beside him in a wheelchair, holding a bundle of moxa and fuming it over the Yongquan point on Wang Hou’s foot.

For some reason, Zhao Haikun’s face was so dark that it unsettled me.

Nervous, I called softly, “Uncle Master.”

He shuddered and looked up at me, immediately correcting, “Don’t call me that. Just call me Old Zhao. You and Haipeng never performed the formal master-disciple rites—at best, you were privately apprenticed. I can’t accept the title of ‘uncle master.’”

His words left me ill at ease. But since he insisted, I couldn’t argue. Still, I couldn’t just call him Old Zhao, so after a moment’s thought, I addressed him as “Brother Kun.”

He smiled at last and let the matter drop.

Relieved, I didn’t ask about Wang Hou’s illness, but instead got straight to the point. “Brother Kun... can you tell me how my old squad leader died?”

I’d been holding this question back for ages. Ever since I heard the news, I’d wanted to ask, but Zhao Haikun had always been busy with Hongye tending to Wang Hou, and my own spirits were too low. Only now did I have the chance, and I had to know—what had happened in the Zhao family these past days? Why was my old squad leader gone, just like that?

At my words, Zhao Haikun sighed, his expression growing even more somber.

From his face, I could tell there was some unspeakable truth behind the squad leader’s death.

After several sighs, Zhao Haikun finally spoke. “You’re not just an outsider, so I’ll tell you the truth. My second brother took his own life three days ago. He... he hanged himself right here, from this very beam.”

His words struck me like a thunderbolt. I stared up in shock at the thick main beam overhead.

A chilling breath seemed to seep down from the pale wood, straight into my heart.

The squad leader... suicide? Hanging? Why? Why!

I lowered my head, my voice barely more than a whisper. “What... exactly happened?”

At this, Zhao Haikun, too, drooped his head and slowly recounted the entire story.

...After leaving the army, my old squad leader, Zhao Haipeng, went to Jinan to work. I knew he was skilled—especially his abilities with the kitchen knife, unmatched by anyone I’d ever met.

Thanks to his talents, he quickly found success in the restaurant business, earning over ten thousand yuan a month.

During this time, he used his earnings to build his elder brother a three-story tile-roofed home in the village. He even courted several respectable women, and it seemed he was set to restore the Zhao family’s reputation and prosperity.

But half a year ago, the squad leader suddenly quit his job as head chef in Jinan and returned to Shiren Gu Village alone.

After coming home, he was a changed man—so different from before. As Zhao Haikun put it... his younger brother seemed like a man whose soul had fled, lost and silent.