He Cong hobbled towards the direction of Hejia Village, supporting his waist with one hand and leaning on a stick he had picked up from the ground with the other.
As soon as he returned to the village, He Cong saw a traditional Chinese medicine shop. His thigh was swollen and painful, and he had intended to seek treatment there. However, something came to his mind, and he turned to look at a vendor not far from the medicine shop.
He took out most of the money he had and bought some fruit from the vendor before heading towards the mountain path.
After walking a few miles, He Cong arrived at a desolate mountain range, where a stone stele stood alone amidst the weeds.
"Mother, I've come to see you. Have some fruit. These fruits were given to me by the villagers," he said.
"Mother, rest assured, the villagers all care about me. By the way, today is my eighteenth birthday, and the village chief even gave me two acres of land!" he continued.
He Cong forced a smile, his eyes turning red. Despite his grievances, he spoke kindly, wanting his late mother to rest in peace.
After chatting for a while, fatigue hit him hard. With heavy eyelids, he leaned against the stele and fell asleep.
Meanwhile, in a brothel in Hejia Village, the village chief was toasting a man repeatedly, praising him non-stop.
Seated beside the village chief, the man wore official robes. His left arm was around a beautiful woman's waist, while his right hand was mischievously reaching towards her bosom.
The woman showed no resistance but rather smiled coquettishly, welcoming his advances.
The man was the county magistrate.
After three rounds of drinks, the village chief, seeking to ingratiate himself, gestured for the courtesans to leave and sat beside the magistrate, saying, "I heard that Your Excellency is troubled by something."
Having been in the officialdom for many years, the magistrate knew the village chief was trying to please him. He gladly accepted the offer, pretending to be distressed, "I have several beloveds and I intended to take them as concubines into my household. However, my original wife adamantly refuses to accept them. What should I do?"
The village chief, grinning, said, "Your Excellency, to be frank, I have a solution to this! Just find a place, build a house there, and have a secret love nest. If you trust me, I can take care of it for you!"
"What do you mean by 'trust you'? We're like brothers!" the magistrate said with satisfaction, agreeing to the plan.
The village chief chuckled, "Don't worry, I've found a perfect spot for you. We can start construction tomorrow!"
As night fell, a cool breeze woke He Cong up. He looked up at the sky and realized it was nearing midnight. He quickly tidied up and headed back to the village to report the time for the night watch.
Just as he was about to descend the mountain, he saw dozens of men approaching from a distance, some carrying hoes, others with axes hanging from their waists, all heading up the mountain in the dead of night.
"Why are these people carrying tools and going up the mountain at night?" He Cong thought, feeling a sense of unease.
While he was hiding and speculating about their intentions, they had already climbed up the mountain one after another.
Once on the mountain, their leader looked around and finally fixed his gaze on a stone stele.
He waved his hand, and the others followed suit.
"Dig!" he commanded.
Immediately, several men stepped forward and began digging at the foot of the stele.
"Stop! That's my mother's grave. Why are you digging it up?!" He Cong rushed over, trying to stop them, but he was too late. The entire stele was uprooted from the ground.
"A coffin? Why are you here? Shouldn't you be on night duty?" He Cong's fists clenched, and his fingernails dug deep into his palms, causing pain. His eyes were bloodshot, and he grabbed one of the men by the collar, asking coldly, "Why are you digging up my mother's grave?!"
The man was startled by He Cong's appearance. They didn't hide the truth and said, "Young Master He, it's the village chief's order. If you have any complaints, you can talk to him. We're just following orders."
"The village chief, the village chief again! First, he covets my land, and now he's digging up my mother's grave. I'll kill him!" He Cong trembled all over. Over the years, he had endured all kinds of humiliation, but this was intolerable.
He Cong snatched an axe from one of the men and descended the mountain, heading straight for the village chief's residence.
The door to the village chief's residence was tightly closed, and despite shouting, there was no response. He Cong raised the axe and was about to chop the door down.
After several strikes, the door was on the verge of collapse. He Cong was about to strike again when the door creaked open.
The village chief was standing behind the door, looking at the badly damaged door caused by He Cong's axe. His face turned extremely dark, and without hesitation, he wanted to take He Cong to see the magistrate.
At that moment, He Cong was furious and didn't care about the consequences. He thought that if the village chief wanted to take him to the magistrate, he would first kill the village chief, avenging himself and his mother.
With this thought in mind, he raised the axe without a word and aimed for the village chief's face.
The village chief was shocked and panicked, his dark expression turning into one of fear. He never expected He Cong to actually attack.
He instinctively tried to dodge, but was too slow, and his right arm was cut, leaving a deep wound. Blood continuously flowed from it, and without timely treatment, it could be fatal.
After landing a blow, He Cong looked at the village chief's arm, which was bleeding profusely, and suddenly came to his senses. He felt nauseous.
"You're finished, you little bastard! Guards, catch him!" the village chief shouted, covering his wound and stepping back several paces. He then called for several servants, intending to capture He Cong.
He Cong, realizing he was outnumbered, turned and ran as soon as he came to his senses.
Fortunately, his nightly patrols had made him swift, and he quickly outpaced the pursuers.
He leaned against a wall, gasping for air. It was his first time injuring someone, and the feeling was unpleasant. But after a moment's thought, he realized the village chief was no good person, and he had actually held back with the axe.
"Mother, forgive me for being unfilial!"
He Cong looked up at the sky and laughed bitterly, feeling like the most cowardly person in the world.
Whether his mother was truly in the heavens, as soon as he uttered those words, a thunderous roar came from the sky, followed by pouring rain.
The rain fell on him, stinging his skin. He Cong moved to find shelter from the rain but saw many officials and soldiers on the street, apparently searching for something.
Realizing that news of him injuring the village chief had probably reached the county government, He Cong decided to leave the place in the rain.
Taking advantage of the rainy night, he reached the village entrance. As he was about to leave, he saw dozens of constables in raincoats surrounding him.
He subconsciously turned to look behind him, only to find his retreat blocked. He had no choice but to surrender.
At the county government office, the magistrate, without holding a trial or interrogation, ordered He Cong to be thrown into the prison and executed in the autumn.
After being imprisoned, He Cong learned from the jailer that the village chief had died. The coroner's examination revealed that the chief had died from excessive blood loss due to the arm injury.
The villagers' servants had witnessed He Cong's attack on the chief, leading the county government to skip the interrogation and directly sentence He Cong to prison.
The next day, He Cong was paraded through the streets in a prison cart, publicly humiliated, before being taken to the execution ground.
When the appointed time arrived, the magistrate threw the command arrow in his hand. The executioner, understanding the signal, raised his large sword, ready to behead He Cong. Suddenly, a strange event occurred. A lightning bolt flashed several times in the sky, then accurately struck He Cong.
He Cong felt as if he had been struck hard all over his body. At first, there was a sharp pain, then his consciousness gradually blurred.
This unexpected turn of events caught everyone off guard. The executioner, looking at He Cong, who had been turned into charcoal, couldn't carry out the execution and could only look to the magistrate for instructions.
The magistrate seemed to be at a loss, having never encountered such a situation before. Fortunately, there was an advisor by his side who suggested having the coroner examine the body. If He Cong was not dead, they could still carry out the execution.
After the examination, it was confirmed that He Cong was dead.
Sadly, He Cong had always considered himself part of Hejia Village. Now, he died a tragic death, and the villagers cheered at his demise.
That night, He Cong's body was sent to the mortuary.
The person in charge of the mortuary was an old man. He took He Cong's body from the constables, frowned slightly, and casually asked, "How long has He Cong been dead?"
The officials replied, "About seven or eight hours."
The old man raised his eyebrows, thinking it was interesting. He took He Cong's body into the mortuary for arrangements. Afterwards, he waved his hand, indicating that the constables could leave.
Instead of putting He Cong in a coffin, the old man reached into his clothes.
After a while, he murmured, "This person still has body temperature."