RPAGF Chapter 1123 is redemption
Chapter 1123 is redemption
The news of Li Pozi's death was like a stone thrown into a calm pond, throwing the Red Star Production Brigade into complete chaos. At dawn, the large locust tree at the entrance to the village was crowded with people. Men squatted on the ground, smoking dry pipes, leaving cigarette butts scattered all over the ground; women, holding their children, huddled together and whispered, their eyes full of panic. "In my opinion, the old well must be filled! The things in the well are too evil. If we keep them there, someone might die!" Liu Laosan, the old bachelor in the village, suddenly knocked his pipe bowl to the ground, his voice full of fear. He went to the west slope to harvest millet yesterday, and was only two stalks away from the bleeding ears of millet. Thinking about it now, cold sweat still breaks out on his back. "Fill in the well? That's easy!" someone objected. "This old well is our village's only source of fresh water. If we fill it up, where will we get water when it's dry? We can't walk ten miles to the neighboring village every day, can we?" "That's better than losing our lives!" "Let's report to the commune! Let's send cadres to take a look. Maybe they can find out something!" The discussion grew louder and louder, giving everyone a headache. Wang Tieniu pushed his way through the crowd, his face livid. "Stop arguing! How can arguing solve the problem?" He glanced at the crowd, his gruff voice drowning out all the other voices. "Mrs. Li has an acute illness. It has nothing to do with the old well! This is a new society. No feudal superstitions! Anyone who dares to clamor about filling the well or reporting to the commune will have half a month's work points deducted from him!" Work points were the lifeblood of the commune members. If half a month's work points were deducted, the family's food rations would be gone. Although the crowd didn't believe Mrs. Li was "acutely ill," they didn't dare to object openly and could only disperse unwillingly. But from that day on, no one dared to fetch water from the old well. No matter how dry the weather, even if fetching water from the neighboring village meant walking ten miles, stepping on scorching yellow soil, and passing a mass grave, the villagers would rather take the long way around—the things in the old well were scarier than the wild dogs in the mass grave. The area around the old well gradually became deserted. A thin layer of soil fell on the bluestone slabs, but it couldn't cover the increasing number of muddy shoe prints. Some were on the edge of the well, some on the old poplar tree next to it, and some were even on the grass leaves by the well. The black mud on the shoe prints was damp, as if they had just been stepped on. The children in the village were so scared when they passed the old well that they walked around it, not daring to cry out loud for fear that the things in the well would hear them. Erzhu ran to Uncle Lao Gen's house every day. He had nightmares at night. He dreamed of a woman in red standing by the kang, holding red embroidered shoes in her hands, her hair hanging coldly on his face. Uncle Lao Gen sighed as he looked at his increasingly emaciated face. He pulled out a few sheets of yellow paper and a brush from an old wooden box under the bed. "Your mother died unjustly, and the things in this well are entangled with your mother's affairs. We need to talk to her first." Uncle Lao Gen dipped a little ink and drew a little figure on the yellow paper. He then had Er Zhu write his mother's name, "Zhang Lan," on the figure's chest. "Tonight at three o'clock, let's bury this little figure under the poplar tree by the well. We'll burn some paper money and tell your mother to stay safe down there, so she won't be haunted by the things in the well." Er Zhu nodded, holding the little yellow paper figure in his hands as if he were holding his mother's soul. At three o'clock that night, the moon was hidden in the clouds, and the village was so quiet that one could hear the chirping of insects. Er Zhu followed Uncle Lao Gen, carrying paper money and matches, and quietly came to the old well. The shadow of the old poplar tree stretched long across the ground, like a monster with bared fangs and claws. Uncle Lao Gen dug a small hole under the poplar tree and had Er Zhu place the yellow paper figurine inside, then filled it with soil. As Er Zhu filled, he whispered, "Mom, I've brought you something. Stay safe down there. Don't come out, or be bullied by the things in the well..." After filling, Uncle Lao Gen lit paper money. The flames danced in the darkness, illuminating their faces. The paper money sizzled, and the wind blew the ashes toward the well, as if sucked away by something. But before the sun rose the next day, someone screamed at the well. Er Zhu and Uncle Lao Gen rushed over to see what was happening. A long crack had appeared in the bark of the old poplar tree where they had buried the paper figurine the day before. From this crack, dark red blood oozed, trickling down the trunk and dripping onto the ground, forming a small puddle. Mixed with a few black hairs, it was exactly the same as they had seen on the ears of grain and in the well water. "No, this thing is too ferocious. Yellow paper can't calm it." Uncle Lao Gen squatted beside the poplar tree, touching the oozing blood with his fingers. It was icy cold. "It doesn't want a replacement, nor paper money, but atonement. The person who hurt it hasn't confessed to it yet." "The person who hurt it?" Er Zhu was stunned and scratched his head. "Who? Was it Mrs. Li? But Mrs. Li is dead." Uncle Lao Gen was about to speak when he heard a hurried cry from the threshing ground: "Oh no! Something's happened to Little Stone!" The two of them hurried to the threshing ground. The haystacks in the threshing ground were crowded with people. Mrs. Li's daughter-in-law sat on the ground crying, holding Little Stone in her arms. Little Stone's eyes were closed, his face pale, and white foam was flowing from the corners of his mouth, as if he had an epileptic seizure. In his hand, he tightly clutched the fragments of half a red embroidered shoe - red cloth, embroidered with peach blossoms, a set with the two in Er Zhu's water tank and at Mrs. Li's feet. "Little Stone! What's wrong with you?" Erzhu squeezed in and quickly picked up Little Stone. The child's body was soft and his breathing was weak. At this moment, Little Stone suddenly opened his eyes. But his eyes were not as innocent as usual, but staring, as if covered with a layer of white mist. His voice also changed, as sharp as a woman's, not the voice a child should have: "Give me back my family tree...Give me back my shoes..." As soon as these words came out, everyone stepped back in fear. Erzhu's hands holding Little Stone began to tremble. He remembered how his mother looked when she fell into the well that year, and what Mrs. Li said before she died. A chill ran from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. Uncle Lao Gen came over, his voice trembling: "Child, you... who are you? Whose family tree do you want? Whose shoes?" Little Stone tilted his head slightly, his eyes fixed on the direction of the old well, and continued in a woman's voice: "My family tree... my red embroidered shoes... they were burned and robbed back then... I want them back..." Someone in the crowd murmured: "Family tree? Mrs. Li burned Erzhu's family tree back then, could it be..." "Not only Erzhu's family tree." Uncle Lao Gen suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse with reminiscence, "I remember that ten years ago, Mrs. Li took the lead in destroying the four olds. She burned not only Erzhu's old family tree, but also an old account book - that was left behind by the village landlord Mr. Shen decades ago. Mr. Shen had a daughter named Xiu Lian, who looked like a fairy in the painting and could embroider red embroidered shoes with peach blossoms always embroidered on the toes. Later, during the land reform, Mr. Shen was persecuted to death, and Xiu Lian disappeared. Some said she fell into the well, some said she ran away, but no one has ever seen her body." Uncle Lao Gen's words were like a flash of lightning, splitting everyone's memory. The old people in the village all remembered Xiulian——