My name is Ning Chuan and I am a freelance writer.
My grandfather's name is Ning Hanqing. He was born at the beginning of the last century, which happened to be in the year 1900. He didn't have my father until he was middle-aged.
Then my dad had my brother in his twenties, and then carried forward the fine tradition of my grandfather, based on the principle of eugenics, in his forties, a new life was born in the family, that is, me—Ning Chuan.
In the past two decades of my life, I have never seen my grandfather named Ning Hanqing. His old man died before I was born.
I don't know much about him, and my father rarely mentions him.
In my subconscious mind, my grandpa is just an ordinary person.
Like all Siyou youths, I worry about my livelihood after graduation.
He has never done anything illegal and disciplined, and has been fighting for the great cause of socialist construction.
We firmly believe that our world is material and that birth, old age, sickness and death are the laws of nature, and we cannot be disobeyed.
Until the trip to Inner Mongolia, I met an old monster who has lived for many years and will live for more years-Meng Qisheng.
I began to feel that my life is much more than just picking up students, occasionally writing manuscripts is as simple as that.
Like all novels, everything has a root.
My trip to Inner Mongolia this time is definitely not as simple as I want to eat a few mouthfuls of Xuexiaoxiao after I am full, but to verify one thing.
The root cause of this incident was a package without a sender's address.
When I received it from the community guard, it had been lying there for a long time. On the package of unknown origin, my address and my name-Yuanshan Garden, received by Ningchuan were written.
Inside the package is a heavy document bag, which seems to be a thick stack of documents.
The document bag is quite old, it looks like it is decades ago, and the traces of artificially erased dust on it are still obvious. It seems to be left there for a long time without anyone paying attention to it. No one took care of it until it was sent.
There is no other text on the document bag. On the large empty area, there is just a combination of numbers and English letters written in red pen—sdd-63127.
Obviously, this is only one of a series of documents. At that time, I thought, is it a prank, or is it the wrong message
Then I felt that the possibility of sending it wrong was unlikely, because besides my name, my address was clearly written on the package.
Finally, I opened the file bag.
As expected, there are thick stacks of yellowed four-fold paper, covered with densely packed fonts. It is unsimplified Chinese, which is the traditional Chinese characters currently used in Hong Kong and Taiwan.
It uses vertical typesetting, which needs to be read from top to bottom and right to left, which is the current typesetting method in Taiwan.
Of course, the typesetting method during the Republic of China was also like this.
The traditional Chinese characters can still be read with guessing, and the different ways of reading will quickly become accustomed.
The content described in these words became the key to my journey to Inner Mongolia.
On this, a large part of the font is printed out, about the detailed process of the Secret Investigation Bureau to inspect the wet flood, including personnel scheduling and expenditure.
Inside, I saw my grandpa's name.
That document records in detail the three years before and after the inspection plan, which is why I am very clear about the causes and consequences of Meng Qisheng's affairs.
However, in addition to this document with the seal of the Secret Investigation Bureau, there is also a stack of octave sheets of paper. Obviously, it did not originally belong to this document bag.
It was a stack of handwritten materials, similar to diary materials, but also in traditional characters, using the current recording method in Taiwan.
There are obvious tearing marks on the edge of the paper—it seems to be torn from a notebook.
And the last signature of these incomplete diaries is Ning Hanqing, that is, my grandfather.
This is a record without beginning or end. He saw a person named Meng Qisheng who should have died in a place in Inner Mongolia.
There is no specific year, only the date and place are recorded at the end of the diary.
There, he told Meng Qisheng some things about wet flood research, but he didn't fully tell him what happened back then, so Meng Qisheng was still confused about what happened back then.
I integrated those data and roughly sorted out the whole thing.
My grandfather was a member of the Secret Investigation Bureau. He participated in the establishment of the Secret Investigation Bureau in 1931. In 1943, he participated in a research project on wet floods. Later, with the death of the subject, the research came to an end.
But in a certain year, according to Meng Qisheng, after the secret investigation bureau was disintegrated, my grandfather found him in Inner Mongolia and recorded that action in his diary.
So the point is, who sent me part of my grandfather's diary and part of the secret investigation bureau information. This is related to Meng Qisheng and Wet Jiao. What does he want me to know
And these information, is it true or fabricated, is my grandfather an ordinary person I thought before, or a researcher working in the Secret Investigation Bureau
So I went to Inner Mongolia to verify the authenticity of the content on the handwritten note.
Then I don't know if it was accidental or inevitable, I met the man who was the same generation as my grandfather-Meng Qisheng.
From Meng Qisheng, I got a word from my grandfather before I was born—
Something in the building.
With such a thoughtless sentence, I never came up with a clue on the way back from Inner Mongolia.
However, I know that the contents of the document bag are likely to be true.
…
When I returned to Chongqing, it was already midnight.
I came out of the station, my head hurts, and I was tired all the way, which made my body very unbearable.
In fact, in the past few years after graduation, relying on the money given to me by my family, plus some of my own unstable manuscript fees, I have played all over the country in large and small places, and my physical strength is pretty decent.
But the difficulty of adapting to boats and cars is natural, and every time I ride in a car, I will fall into a period of exhaustion for a period of time.
Standing outside the station, he rubbed his painful forehead and turned pale. It seems that there is a wind chill on the snowy field, and the body is very hot.
It took a long time to slow down, and then stopped a taxi to get in.
"Yuanshan Garden." I sat in the back seat and said to the driver.
The driver’s accent was not a local, and speaking in Mandarin sounded awkward, he hesitated, and said, "It’s so far, in the middle of the night... and out of town..."
He was afraid that desperadoes would harm him as a taxi driver. I didn't say anything, thinking that my small body could trick you out of the city and tie you up.
No way, everyone got in the car. Although the driver was muttering, he started the car quickly and didn't ask more.
Yuanshan Garden, like its name, is quite far away from the city. It is estimated that it has already left the urban-rural junction, and there will be no way to go for a long distance.
This is a wealthy district built in the 1990s when the real estate industry was not so hot, and it has been almost 30 years now.
There is also a private garage in the small villa Pei Garden. It is built around the mountain and has a small natural lake. There is a large mountain behind the community, and the environment is also good.
It was originally an excellent real estate project, but the brain-dead developer didn't know what to think, and chose the address in such a remote place.
It’s far from the city, and the surrounding infrastructure is poor. There are no lights outside the community in the middle of the night. It looks dead at a glance. The mountains behind the community are very cold. No wonder the taxi driver hesitated when he heard that I was going there. At a glance, it is indeed a good place to kidnap and throw corpses.
There are not many residents in Yuanshan Garden, including me, and the villas are vacant, which can be said to be barren.
I originally wanted to go back to my hometown after graduation, but my older brother who is more than 20 years old and the big business owner of Ning told me that he bought me a villa in Chongqing and gave me a graduation gift. Let me not dislike anything.
The villa in the mountain city of Chongqing, the Internet celebrity city, hot pot, beautiful women, scenery, who is still staying in the house, who is a fool who dislikes it.
Only after I moved in did I know what it was, and I comforted myself, it’s nothing, somehow there is a place to live, isn’t it
In fact, besides the location is a little bit off, the surrounding residents are a little bit less, the surrounding infrastructure is a little bit worse, the distance from the city is a bit far away, and it is difficult to get a taxi, the situation inside the Yuanshan Garden is still good.
Except that the interior has been left unattended for a long time, there are more trees, less sunshine, the mountain behind is a bit gloomy, there are more weeds in the garden, and the guardian’s attitude is a little worse. pretty good.
For example, the private garage is very good. I like it very much. Although I don't have a car, I haven't been to my underground garage.
The taxi turned around and out of the city, moving silently in the silent night.
The headache got worse, I thought about it, and then I piled on the seat behind the driver's seat, wanting to rest my head on the back of the driver's seat.
The driver froze for a moment: "..."
I:"… "
Looking at the driver's leaning forward body, I couldn't laugh or cry. I didn't explain anything, as long as I didn't scare the car overturned.
It felt like only after a while, the car stopped slowly. I woke up from a half-sleepy state, feeling that I hadn't slept long before.
After paying the money, I got out of the car and the driver drove away. After standing sober in the cold wind for a while, I walked into the distant mountain garden with only a few lights on.
The whole community was quiet, it was midnight, and there was a hint of silence.
Going deep, stopped in front of the innermost small villa, walked through the weedy garden, stood in front of the steps for a while, opened the door and walked in.
The lights came on and the darkness faded.
The empty house is still the same as when I left.
I have lived in for so long and haven't added anything to it. In the past few years, I have spent most of the past few years playing around the world in the name of picking life.
I didn't live here much time. Most of the time, he came back from the station and plunged into the room to sleep in the dark. After regaining his strength, he continued to go out.
Going upstairs, Zai ** soon fell asleep in a faint.
It was noon the next day when I woke up again, but I found that my headache got worse. I usually feel refreshed after a nap. It seems that this time I was really sick. I measured it myself. Take body temperature, 39.6℃.
Putting on the clothes and looking out from the window, the community is quiet, and a few birds are searching on the empty concrete floor, revealing a barren atmosphere.
The location of my villa is close to the edge of the community, behind which is the mountain. The birds in the forest screamed for their lives and quarreled with shrews.
I rubbed my forehead, groggy, thinking, just lie down for a while. He lay down again until the next day, and gave himself a bowl of dried noodles in the middle. There was almost a sign on his forehead with the clear soup and water, and the words "Empty Nest Youth" were written.
Later, I really couldn't hold on, I thought it would be better if I lie down, but it became more serious.
Pull out the phone from under the pillow, turn it on, and dial.
"White Ye, I'm sick and dying, come and save me."
The man at the other end seemed to have just woke up, and his voice was dumb, "Hey, I said, when did you come back, are you at home now?"
"Yeah." I responded weakly.
"It's far away from you, it's very gas-consuming, hey, don't hang up."
Ignoring Bai Ye's yelling on the phone, he hung up. A joke, your gas bill is expensive, but my phone bill is not expensive.
Dazed in my heart, I fell asleep again without knowing it. (End of this chapter)