Just then, I noticed a slight expression of bewilderment on Uncle Quan’s face. The woman’s story had finally explained why did his teacher treat him with so much love and affection. He must have been about the same age as his teacher’s own child.

If she had detected the change on Uncle Quan’s face, the woman certainly showed no indication of it. Instead, she pressed on bluntly, “But it was none other than my teacher’s husband’s junior sister who had stolen their baby boy. She had an intense loathing for my teacher’s husband – your teacher and her senior brother – who had rebuffed her love for him. Days turned sour and bitter for my teacher and her husband. This went on for many years until the junior sister of your teacher, reflecting upon the horror that she had wrought on the person whom she had once adored and loved, confessed everything to the man, the baby boy she had stolen now grown up, on her deathbed. The man, now middle-aged, came from Shanxi in search of his biological parents. Alas, my teacher’s husband had been robbed of all his wits by then due to the thrombus he’d suffered. But with concern for their wellbeing, the son then took his parents back to Shanxi with him.”

Still throbbing with curiosity, I could not help asking another question, “Was your village not called Shijia Village? Why did you not look for the very place where you were born?”

The woman explained, “Our village was called ‘Shijie Village (literally the Stone Tablet Village)’. Without proper education, it is natural that both our mothers have mistaken the name. Moreover, our little village had but only a few families including us in the past. There was a farm nearby. Hence many people would just consider us part of the community of the farm. Later on, we were all inducted into the Balipu Town’s production brigade. The name of ‘Shijie Village’, most undoubtedly, faded out of memory. My father was sick after my mother return. My uncle, my aunts, and my grandparents were weak and frail. Therefore, no one ever thought of searching for him. But when I grew up, at my mother’s behest, I went in search of his village, albeit reluctantly. My heart was for him, but I did not know he was the bearer of the pendant. I barely made any effort to search, despite my mother’s insistence. With no news of your Uncle Quan, I later got married to another man.”

As we talked, we reached another graveyard. With Uncle Quan leading us, we found the grave markers of his parents’ tomb. Sobbing hard with tears lining down his cheek, he mumbled, “I have found them, Mother… I have found them…” The older sister collapsed to the ground, weeping as she said something to herself incomprehensibly. The melancholic and mournful atmosphere was so unnerving that even her sister and I could hardly keep our heads up. When everything was done, we walked back to the direction which we came from. Halfway, Uncle Quan pointed to a piece of land suddenly and said, “There. There was once an embankment by a river here. But when the river was diverted, the embankment was demolished, so was a little house which once sat upon it. It was in that house where you and I were born!” Everyone looked at the direction where his finger was pointing and said nothing. There was a wistful silence that lingered, broken only by the sporadic wheezes and gasps of the tearful sisters. Despite not possessing the Magical Sight which allowed its user the power to discern destiny and Karma, it had become evident that the sisters both shared a love for Uncle Quan which was not to be. Even though their parents have vowed to have their children marry each other, still, the will of Fate, Karma, and Destiny reigned absolute.

When we returned, Uncle Quan tugged my elbow and led me aside. He spoke quietly to me, “I have a favor to ask of you, Shiyan. Your father holds certain authority across the Three Realms of Existence. Can you ask if he can allow us all to meet our mothers? I hope to at least fulfill their lives’ wishes.” But he had barely finished when my father’s voice boomed from over his shoulders, saying, “Say no more! I have looked into the accounts of their souls. I’m afraid that they have both been reborn into well-to-do households. We can only accept this as the will of Heaven!” Uncle Quan fell silent as this, but he nodded thankfully to my father, understanding that Father had guessed that he might have such a wish and had already looked into the fates of both parents for him.

It was in the evening when we reached back to the Institute. Uncle Quan’s son, Lin Feng came to us, wanting to ask what happened anxiously. But upon realizing his father’s grim demeanor, he decided to remain silence. I patted Lin Feng, whom I usually addressed as Brother Lin, on his shoulder and spoke softly to him, “I’m afraid this matter about your father is one that would usually begin with ‘once upon a time’…” I gave him a concise version of the story, and Brother Lin finally understood the morose look that his father had upon his face.

Lin Feng was one of the veterans among the fresher ranks of substitute teachers and instructors at the Institute. With Uncle Quan’s entire repertoire of skills and techniques passed on to him, Lin Feng had joined the army even when he was barely a raw graduate out of university and was awarded his graduation certificate after being discharged. In truth, I was envious of Lin Feng for I had always hoped to be able to enlist as an army man with pride. But my failure to fulfill the requirements had dashed any hopes of donning a military uniform.

Being almost one or two years senior to most of the younger crop of instructors and teachers at the Institute, most of us would address him as Brother Lin. Our relationship has been well; both of us seemed to enjoy talking with each other as we have a lot in common. He was also extremely popular, especially with the fairer gender, when almost half of his wushu classes were mostly attended by young ladies who had come seeking to witness with their own eyes his commanding and yet handsome looks, hence his well-enjoyed reputation in the town. Then again, Lin Feng was hardly a slippery fellow with a honeyed tongue, especially when it came to dealing with the ladies who loved huddling around him, bombarding him with various questions that had little to do with academics. This was the part where I would usually come to his rescue and liberate him from the clutches of the ravenous ladies. At times, we were even referred to as the dynamic duo of the Institute for being close to each other.

However, our having a lot in common was hugely due to my specialty – playing the zither. Contrary to what many might think, the zither was not a musical instrument reserved only for the womenfolk, although it was undeniably rare for men today to learn and practice playing this particular instrument. This would best be proven with me being the sole male among hundreds of students and instructors practicing to use this instrument in the whole Institute. But this had also granted me the chance to learn how to help Lin Feng slither away from being mobbed by his legions of female admirers. There might be some who might be wishful for the same thrill of being surrounded by ladies. The same could be said for one or two ladies, but definitely not for a horde of them! There was once an online author who gave me an odd comparison: if a lady equated to five hundred ducks and two would equal to a thousand ducks, try to imagine the noise and headache of having to stand in the middle of thousands of ducks!

With my recounts of his father’s tale ended, Brother Lin and I ambled aimlessly at the courtyard of the Institute. He asked me suddenly, “You and your father have been acting mysteriously for the past few days, young brother. What have you been up to?” I giggled mischievously and replied rather proudly, “You have no idea. We have been busy with something important!” Lin Feng’s eyes widened with surprise and wonder, “Ah?! Were you off subduing ghosts?” I nodded in reply, indicating a yes. But instead, Lin Feng smacked hard on his thigh and cried, “You should have brought me along! Many a time my father had pestered me to tag along with you guys. He said that I might be able to learn a thing or two! How could you have not called me along! It’s not every day we get such opportunities!” I smiled weakly and said, “Heh heh heh… Fret not, Brother Lin… Come, let me buy you some Cola…”

At his insistence, I embarked on a long oratory, retelling my experiences for the past two days, beginning from Fearless Hao, then Mr. Lee, Mr. Zhang and until the end.

The next morning, my mother woke me up from bed, and I came to the dining table to find my father had already prepared breakfast. My mother appeared to have eaten before she roused me from bed. In fact, my father was the one who cooked every morning. Despite her fine traits as wife and mother, never had I saw her cooked before, at least with my own eyes.

I finished my breakfast and walked out the door with a lighted cigarette between my lips. I peered at the time displayed on my phone and saw it was ten past eight in the morning. There was an unread message which I received at six earlier. It was an age where people rarely communicated using text messaging, hence with stirring curiosity I opened the message. It was from my father, saying, “I have gone fishing with your Uncle Quan. He’s still a tad unhappy after what happened. It’s Tuesday today, so I expect the Institute to be less busy today. I’ll count on you to look after things for me.” With that, he ended his message with a playful smiley. What a whimsical person my father could sometimes be, I wondered.

I got into the car and slid my car keys into the ignition switch, started the car and began driving to the Institute alone. Not long afterward, I noticed a familiar figure pedaling hard on his bicycle. That must be Lin Feng, I surmised. Despite having a car and knowing how to drive, I had never seen him using his car before. Cycling is good for training his legs; he once told me. I sped up to him and called out to him. To my surprise, he yelled for me to stop the car. I halted and got down the car, and he asked me for help. He needed to get to the Institute as fast as he could. He had an early class today, and he was late! Therefore we tucked his bicycle into the trunk of the car and continued towards the Institute. As we traveled, we spoke about why was he late and he told me that he was so amazed by the story I told him yesterday that he had not slept a wink the entire night!

At last, we arrived at the Institute. Fortunately, Lin Feng was in time for his eight-thirty wushu class. But later one day, word began reaching me that Uncle Quan would be so seriously displeased that he might even hit Lin Feng if his son was ever late for a class. But how could a father still hit a twenty-plus-year-old son, I wondered.

The morning sessions passed peacefully without any incident. Still, trouble never seemed to stop knocking. It was noon and all morning classes had ended. Lin Feng, me and a pair of lady instructors who also taught zither lessons were having lunch in the reception room of the Institute when I saw a group of people walking through the main entrance. I looked closely and found a familiar face: Mrs. Lee. There were a few people behind her, and she was leading them into the Institute with hurried footfalls echoing through the empty foyer…