At that time, my father had already established his own household, albeit just across the street from my grandfather's.
I watched curiously as those strangers entered my grandfather's house, wondering about the origins of these unexpected guests.
Soon, the mud-brick house was filled with the sounds of fierce arguments, followed by the clatter of pots and pans crashing to the floor.
Alarmed, I grabbed a stick and dashed outside. Reaching the doorway, I saw my grandfather, his face contorted with rage, wielding a rolling pin and forcibly ejecting several men.
The men, beaten and bloodied, wailed pitifully while two women stood petrified, their briefcases flung open without their notice, scattering bundles of bright red banknotes that stung my eyes.
One of the men, incensed, bellowed, "Old Zhang, you're pushing your luck! What era do you think this is? Still cherishing your worthless trinkets like treasures!"
"Look at the life you lead! Less dignified than a beggar! You reject a golden path laid before you, insisting on dying in this wretched village, don't you?" he continued, his voice laden with scorn.
The man's tirade was fierce, but my grandfather's response was a grim-faced: "Leave!"
Furious, the man retorted, "Fine, Zhang! You're tough, I'll give you that! But remember, your family is cursed, with sins too numerous to atone for in a lifetime!"
"You think you can bear the Zhang family's sins alone? Even the heavens might not agree to that!" he shouted before the group hastily collected the scattered banknotes, shot a venomous glance at my grandfather, and drove off.
During the summer harvest, this commotion went unnoticed by the villagers, except for me, clad only in shorts and a tank top, furiously throwing my stick at their cars.
The stick struck the rear windshield with a loud crash, eliciting screams from inside the vehicle, which sped away, leaving only me and my grandfather to squat and gather the broken kitchenware. It was then I noticed my grandfather's hair had turned very white, and his back was severely stooped—a man nearly seventy, after all.
After we finished, we sat in silence; I did not ask who those people were or what they wanted.
My grandfather offered no explanations, merely sitting on the sofa, continuously smoking.
After a while, he suddenly said, "Little Jiu, pack your things; we're leaving tomorrow."
My hands trembled slightly as I asked, "Where to?"
"To the provincial capital, Shimen," he replied.
Hearing the firmness in his voice, I realized I probably couldn't stay at home any longer.
Seeing my teary eyes, he sighed, "Little Jiu, you've read the books I wanted you to read over the last six years—those you should and shouldn't have."
"There are things you don't understand now, but you will eventually," he added hoarsely.
"Grandpa, does it have to do with those men and women?" I asked.
Touching my head, he smiled and said, "It's related, and yet it's not. Their arrival made me realize some things can't be avoided and must be faced."
"Go ahead, I'll talk to your parents."
My grandfather has always been a decisive man, overbearing in simpler terms. Despite my father and uncles living separately, they never dared to defy him.
However, that night, my parents fiercely argued with him, almost tearing the roof down with their shouting, lamenting over sending me to some "damned place" in Shimen—wishing for my death instead.
Grandfather's roar soon drowned theirs out.
I didn't know who this "bastard" in the provincial city was, but the argument went on until late into the night until my exhausted parents finally agreed to Grandfather's plan.
That night, they packed my bag themselves—shorts, T-shirts, a jacket, even a thick down jacket, stuffing it all into my backpack.
Besides, my father divided a thick stack of money, nearly thirty thousand, into three parts and hid it in my pack.
Their preparations made me pale, and I asked my grandfather when I would return.
He touched my head and said meaningfully, "You'll come back when you feel it's time."
His words confused me, but I understood that this departure might be for a long time, perhaps even through winter, hence the inclusion of the down jacket.
At the thought, I felt a surge of excitement. A young man just turned eighteen, burdened by schoolwork, having barely traveled beyond nearby towns, I naturally yearned for the outside world.
Especially seeing the stack of money my father had stuffed into my bag made my heart race.
Growing up in a modest household, my parents were strict with money; I had never held more than a hundred yuan.
Suddenly seeing tens of thousands of yuan at my disposal exhilarated me, overshadowing the sorrow of leaving home.
Thus, I was forcibly expelled from home by my grandfather.
No one saw me off that day, except for Grandfather's large yellow dog, which followed me to the village outskirts until I boarded a bus to the train station. The dog then wagged its tail, barked, and returned home.
At that moment, I had no idea what this departure truly meant.
The provincial capital was not far, just over three hundred kilometers away. But a provincial capital is a provincial capital; carrying my heavy pack, I wandered the streets for over an hour until I found a shop marked with funeral wreaths and shrouds.
The "bastard" my father spoke of was the shop's owner.
Grandfather had instructed me to call him "Third Uncle," while my father dismissively said to call him a "bastard," which even earned him a slap from Grandfather.
Not knowing the history between them, but since I was seeking refuge, I decided to be polite. I stepped forward and called into the shop, "Is Third Uncle here?"
That was what Grandfather had told me to say.
No one responded from the front, but voices came from the back room. I thought about it and then walked into the shop. Just as I steadied myself, two men came out from the back.
One, with grizzled facial hair, dressed in a Sun Yat-sen suit, looked up respectfully. The other, sallow and weary-looking, seemed perpetually ill.
Yet, when he glanced up and saw me at the door, his eyes unexpectedly brightened, belying his sickly appearance.
Then I heard him ask, "Are you a child of the Zhang family?"
I quickly responded, "Third Uncle, my name is Zhang Jiu Zui. Grandfather sent me to find you."