Chapter 4, The Yellowed Photograph

The old woman stepped aside to let me enter the house, as people in the mountains of Xiangxi generally do not refuse guests

This is a group photo of three individuals, with insufficient exposure, resulting in a somewhat dim image. On the left is a gaunt and emaciated middle-aged man, his expression serious. On the right is a middle-aged woman, her hair styled in a bun, dressed in an eccentric manner that carries an exotic flair, her eyes seemingly gazing directly at me

I have never seen my father in this photograph before; he is a person who does not like to be photographed

The old woman's eyes stared at me for a long time, and in the end, she still shook her head and said, "This is impossible"

What on earth is going on? I really can't hold it in any longer

"The one in the middle is Huangfu Zheren, a fellow villager from Xiangxi when my husband was in the exploration team. The woman on the right is a local, and I have heard that she is a shaman," the old woman explained one by one.

I laughed, even letting out a slight chuckle; my father, my six-fingered old man, was clearly living well at home.

I silently gazed at this dying old man, who bore no resemblance to the dignified and serious middle-aged man in the photograph. He was someone who had once known my father, yet strangely, my father had never mentioned him. At this moment, a faint sense of unease quietly surfaced in my heart

There is no electricity in the village, and last month, Old Man Xiao also moved away. Now, only our household remains," the old woman sighed.

It seems that I have made a trip in vain, I think

That person is my father

The old woman bent down, gently placing her ear close to his mouth: "Zitan, what do you want to say?"

The woman's face and gaze seemed familiar to me, I pondered inwardly

"Who are you?" The old woman inside the door asked me with a suspicious gaze

Oh, I have finally found it

Looking at the appearance of my hunchbacked old father in his youth, with his delicate features, melancholic eyes, and faint smile, I felt a sweet sensation in my heart for a moment

Why? I asked in wonder

At this moment, I noticed a small picture frame tightly adhered to the wall above the table, containing a yellowed black-and-white photograph measuring two to three inches, which caught my attention

The old woman glanced at me and said, "Lielie in our Miao dialect means that there are many rats. Rats also like to make their nests in graves, which in turn attracts owls"

"How do you know?" The old woman cast a suspicious glance at my face, finally settling on the six fingers of my right hand

Let us go out. The old woman once again lowered the curtain and walked out of the room holding the oil lamp

The old lady paused for a moment, then continued: "Do you remember Huangfu Zheren, a colleague from the exploration team thirty years ago in Laos? You said he had already passed away, and you personally buried him, but today his son has come..."

This is a face that is all too familiar, especially his right hand resting on the shoulder of a middle-aged man, where one can clearly see that he has six fingers

An emaciated old man lies on the bed, his bones protruding, high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, tightly closed eyelids, and hair reaching his nape, as if there were no signs of life whatsoever.

In a moment, a rustling sound came from within the door. After a while, the door opened, revealing a face full of wrinkles. Beneath the disheveled white hair were a pair of vacant, lifeless eyes. This was an elderly woman.

The old woman hesitated for a moment, stood up, picked up the oil lamp, and said, "Follow me." Then she turned and walked into the west room, and I followed her in confusion

Oh, so those owls are catching mice on the graves, in this case, I feel somewhat reassured, I was just startled for a moment.

The old lady noticed that I was staring intently at the photo on the wall, and a faint smile appeared on her face. She pointed to the photo and said: "This is a picture taken many years ago in Laos, it has been over thirty years now. The one on the left is my man, look how young and handsome he was back then."

I have lost my companions and I am lost. I think it is better not to reveal the true intention of this trip, as the atmosphere in this mountain is indeed somewhat eerie

I turned back to look, the moonlight was enchanting, and everything I had just seen had already vanished into the darkness

"Grandma, what place is this?" I asked while chewing on a sweet potato

"The wind is strong," the old woman replied

"I know you heard me, do you have something to say?" the old woman asked him

"The man of my family personally buried Huangfu Zheren," the old lady said with a serious tone.

These are three earthen houses, and the main room is quite simple. Apart from a few farming tools such as a hoe and an iron rake standing in the corner, there is only a rough Eight Immortals table and two chairs. A broken oil lamp is lit on the table, casting dim light.

Your village is quite remote, isn't it? It seems there aren't many residents here, is that so? I asked tentatively

The oil lamp dimmed, crackling softly. The old woman pulled out a hairpin and adjusted the wick, and the light suddenly brightened again

As I approached the bed, I faintly sensed a trace of death's presence

The old man seemed to nod slightly, and then fell silent again, no longer making a sound

Who? I said inadvertently

On the way here, I saw a graveyard with many owls perched on the tombstones. I picked up another sweet potato.

This is my man, Wu Zitan, who has been sleeping here for over twenty years

Yes, my name is Huangfu Xiaoming, and I am the son of Huangfu Zheren. You see, this is a hereditary trait of the Huangfu family. I brought my right hand closer to the oil lamp, and the sixth finger grew on the outer edge of my little finger, exactly like my father's six fingers in the photograph

Indeed, I casually agreed.

The old man's dry lips quivered slightly, releasing a faint breath from his throat

I noticed that the muscles on the old man's face twitched slightly, his eyes still tightly closed, and the bony hand that was exposed outside the blanket moved slightly.

"Then where is your uncle?" I felt a surge of displeasure in my heart

"Grandma, you are mistaken; Huangfu Zheren is still alive in this world," I corrected with a suppressed smile.

The old woman placed the oil lamp back on the table, looked at me, and sighed, saying: "Well, I will tell you about what Zitan told me regarding the sage Huangfu Zhe back in the day..."

***

This farmhouse is hidden deep within the bamboo forest, and through the swaying shadows of the bamboo, one can see a faint light from an oil lamp cast upon the window, with no barking of dogs or any other sounds to be heard

"Pasum? Are you referring to the witch in the photo?" the old woman repeated her question to him

The elderly person on the bed showed no response, and the air was thick with a deathly silence.

"Hello, fellow villager, is anyone there?" I stepped forward and knocked twice on the door.

The old man continued to murmur, I listened quietly, yet I could not hear anything.

"Only sweet potatoes." The old woman said as she turned to the back kitchen to bring a basket of boiled sweet potatoes, placing it on the table

"Grandma, do you have anything to eat here?" I am currently feeling quite hungry with an empty stomach

He has been dead for over thirty years. A sigh from the old woman came from behind.

Huangfu Zheren

The old woman opened the mosquito net, hung it on the hook, and brought the oil lamp closer...

Against the wall in the west room stands an old-fashioned bed, with a white gauze mosquito net hanging down that has likely not been cleaned for a long time, now yellowed and emitting a musty odor

The intermediary is a young man with a refined appearance, dressed in a light-colored Zhongshan suit, wearing a gray cloth hat, with his right hand gently resting on the shoulder of the man to his left, displaying a smile

Thank you. I reached out and grabbed a sweet potato, and the old woman's gaze swept over the six fingers on my palm, revealing a look of surprise

"Zitan, can you hear me speaking?" the old woman gently said to the person.