The Death of Grandpa

The eyeball that fell out of the envelope gave me a start. This couldn't possibly be Grandpa's, could it? But on second thought, that was clearly impossible - Grandpa had received the letter first and disappeared afterwards, so this eyeball must belong to someone else.

Other than this sticky eyeball, there was nothing else in the letter. This was really bizarre - what exactly was the sender trying to tell Grandpa? Why did Grandpa suddenly disappear?

The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. I scratched my head furiously and sat down in irritation.

Grandpa used to say, we must see the essence through the phenomenon. When you can't figure something out, start by considering the most fundamental points.

I looked around the study. Everything was neatly arranged, the doors and windows were intact. Grandpa hadn't been forcibly taken away, which meant he had left home voluntarily after receiving the letter.

Since this was a letter, it must have conveyed some kind of information that only Grandpa could decipher. Therefore, I should be able to decipher it too.

The message the sender wanted to convey to Grandpa must be on this eyeball!

I turned on the desk lamp and examined the eyeball carefully under the light. Judging from the cloudiness of the lens, this eyeball had been detached from the body no more than three hours ago. The round eyeball had a small segment of optic nerve still attached. After close inspection for about a minute, I came to two conclusions: First, the victim was still alive when the eyeball was gouged out; Second, the perpetrator was highly skilled - they had managed to remove the eyeball without any damage, and eyeballs were extremely fragile organs. This skill was comparable to a surgeon's!

There were some tiny granular objects stuck to the eyeball. I scraped some off with my finger and rubbed it between my fingers. It was sawdust, and had a pine aroma when I sniffed it.

I recalled that there was a wood processing plant north of the county seat. Logs brought in from other places were processed into boards for furniture there. So this eyeball must have come from that factory. The sender's message was: someone's life was in danger at the wood plant. This was a veiled threat, so Grandpa had rushed over to save the person!

I didn't think much more. I picked up a wooden stick from the ground and ran out of the house. The night road was pitch dark, with occasional dog barking coming from the alleys. I sprinted all the way to the north side of the county seat, where I saw the looming factory buildings of the wood plant amid the darkness.

The factory was surrounded by a wall, the big iron gate had been left open, the padlock tossed on the ground with a piece of wire still stuck in the shackle.

This proved my deduction wasn't wrong. The sender must be inside, and Grandpa might be there too. But I felt somewhat timid. The sender was clearly no good person. Should I call the police first?

I didn't have a cell phone on me at the time, so running back to alert the police wasn't very realistic. Every passing second put Grandpa in greater danger.

So I picked up a wooden stick from the ground and headed into the factory, walking carefully with both hands gripped tightly around the stick. Soon I saw a warehouse with its lights on. I turned off my flashlight, tiptoed over and peered inside.

The warehouse was stacked with planks of wood piled all the way up to the high ceiling. The top was covered with tarpaulin. I walked quietly through the silent surroundings, feeling uneasy.

As I rounded a corner, I suddenly saw two figures up ahead. One was an unfamiliar middle-aged fat man, sitting limply on a chair with his clothes open, head tilted to one side. I noticed a large blue dragon tattoo across his chest. His mouth was stuffed with a rag, and his eye sockets were hollow. Oddly, there wasn't a single drop of blood around the empty sockets or on his face and clothes.

In his hands he cradled a black plastic bag, seemingly containing something.

The other figure lay on the ground not far away, dressed in a red Chinese robe and shoes with thousand-layer soles. I recognized him instantly as Grandpa!

I rushed over without caring about the fat man's condition, throwing myself on Grandpa. His hands and feet were icy cold, his heartbeat had completely stopped, and his pupils had started to dilate slowly. I placed my hand under Grandpa's nose. It was several seconds before I felt an extremely faint wisp of breath.

My eyes instantly moistened. I cried out, "Grandpa, hang in there, I'll go get help right away!"

I shouted a few more times, hoping to rouse him to consciousness. Grandpa's lips moved ever so slightly as he uttered in a very faint voice, "Yang'er."

"Grandpa, don't die, I'll go call an ambulance right now! Call the best doctors!"

"No..." he said with great difficulty. "Too late."

Hearing this, I felt a stabbing pain in my heart. Hot tears spilled from my eyes. Grandpa spoke again, very slowly, as if each word drained all his strength. I desperately wanted him to conserve his energy, yet didn't dare interrupt him.

Grandpa said, "Yang'er... Grandpa's time is up... From now on, even if you become a forensic doctor, Grandpa won't stop you... But if you hear the words 'Jiangbei Broken Blade'... you must... you must stay far away."

I held his hand, my crying distorting my voice, "Grandpa, what is this Jiangbei Broken Blade? The scoundrel who harmed you? I will definitely avenge you!"

"No!" He hugged me tightly, staring into my eyes, "Promise me."

I nodded forcefully.

Grandpa's expression turned gratified. He slowly exhaled his last breath. I knelt on the ground, weeping inconsolably.

As I wept, I suddenly noticed a dim, swaying shadow on the ground. It scared my tears to a halt. Based on the light source and clarity of the shadow, the person was right behind me, pressed tightly against my back.

Yet I didn't detect the slightest sound of breathing from a living person. I even wondered if it was the eyeless fat man, risen from the dead!

Of course that was impossible!

Because this shadow was tall and thin. At that moment, his right hand slowly raised, holding something that looked vaguely like a curved blade.

I immediately stood up, but was promptly pinned in the waist through my clothes by something icy cold and sharp.

The shadow spoke in an eerie, genderless voice, "Don't turn around. If you see my face, you won't leave here alive."

The voice sounded strange, neither male nor female, neither yin nor yang, as if it had been processed through some kind of device.

I trembled, filled with fear and indignation. This person must be the murderer who had lured Grandpa here and killed him. But I was unarmed, powerless against him. Even if I died here, no one would ever know.

Yet the desire to live compelled me to nod.

"What's your name?" asked the shadow.

"Song...Yang!" I answered.

"So Old Song XiaoLin has a grandson. Did he ever teach you anything?" the shadow continued asking.

"He didn't teach me anything," I replied.

"Oh really? Heheh!" A sinister laugh emerged from the shadow's mouth. "Do you want to live?"

This time I didn't answer, just nodded.

"Then here's a riddle for you. Answer it correctly and I'll let you go. Get it wrong and you can accompany your grandpa to hell!"

I shuddered. I felt utterly ashamed of my powerlessness and cowardice. My grandfather's murderer was right within reach, yet I didn't even dare look at him, letting him toy with me like a mouse caught by a cat.

But the desire to live still compelled me to nod.

"It's a simple riddle. As long as you can deduce how your grandfather died, I'll release you!" said the shadow.