Chapter 115: Descendant of an Old Acquaintance

Three days later was the day we had agreed to meet Professor Su. Waiting is always filled with apprehension and unease. What if the answer was that a general named Shi Ganzhuang truly existed? Would that be a cause for joy? I think fear would be a more appropriate reaction.

Heavy historical documents seal away the past. Reopening them and stepping inside, the world discovers that everything is merely a cycle.

Professor Su confirmed that such a figure did indeed exist in history. On the table lay a thread-bound ancient book from the Song Dynasty titled *Old Book of Tang*. It was a printed edition by the renowned scholar Ouyang Xiu, containing many biographies of figures from the Tang era. As the book sat before me, Professor Su pointed with a wooden ruler: "Right here. Shi Qing, courtesy name Ganzhuang, a prodigy of his time. He could shoulder a stone drum and possessed the strength of Xiang Yu. Having no parents and an unknown lineage, he joined the tent of Li Ji, the Grand General of the Liaodong Campaign, at the age of twenty-four. He pacified Goguryeo, earned repeated merits, and in the fourth year of the Qianfeng era, he was appointed as the General of Harmonious Virtue to guard the two passes and suppress the northern deserts."

"Was that during the reign of Emperor Gaozong?"

Professor Su replied, "Judging by this passage, there was indeed such a figure stationed in the Dunhuang area during the Gaozong era to defend against the invasions of northern nomadic tribes, by the name of Shi Ganzhuang. As a historical record, the *Old Book of Tang* is highly credible; a third-rank military officer would not be a mere fabrication. Coupled with the unearthed Tang saber, the evidence basically aligns."

Cha Wenbin then asked, "Is there any other information recorded about him, such as personal writings or other documents?"

"No. Information on this person is only found in this Tang history book. In the prosperous Great Tang, such figures were everywhere. To find traces of ancient people from a millennium ago, unless..." He paused, looked at us, and said, "Unless more materials regarding him are unearthed."

Cha Wenbin said, "I believe Professor Su must find it strange why I have been so persistent in searching for information about this man."

Su Qing remarked with disdain, "To sell it for a better price, I presume? Isn't that how all of you are?"

"I have a friend whose name happens to be the same as the one inscribed on this sword: Shi Ganzhuang." Cha Wenbin calmly began to tell a story that sounded somewhat incredible. When he reached the part where he woke up alone inside that coffin, I saw the corner of his eye twitch slightly.

Su Qing found it miraculous after hearing the tale, but then asked, "Gu Qinghe—is that Professor Gu Qinghe from Stanford University?"

"According to my friend, yes. Does Professor Su know him?"

Su Qing replied with some excitement, "He is an internationally renowned Sinologist and a frequent guest in Sino-American cultural exchanges. I once had the honor of meeting him. If what you say is true, I must report this to the organization. This is a monumental discovery!"

"Don't." I quickly grabbed the old man, who was about to rush to his office to make a call, and advised, "Professor Su, many things are better left in the shadows. You've been in this field for so many years; surely you've heard of such things?"

To my surprise, Su Qing's attitude changed faster than turning a page. He shook off my arm and snapped, "Nonsense! Professor Gu is a great scholar; how could he be involved in shady dealings? I believe you are all deliberately making this up, and I will certainly report this matter."

Cha Wenbin walked over to me quietly and said, "Let him make the call."

Two days ago, when we were in Nanhu Township, Cha Wenbin had made a phone call. I did not know who was on the other end, nor did I know the content. I had wondered who a rustic man like him would be contacting by phone. I soon had my answer. A few minutes later, Su Qing emerged from his office with a bitter expression. He kept eyeing the young man before him, unable to understand why his superior, who had always treated him with respect, had scolded him severely and ordered him to cooperate fully with this young man named Cha Wenbin.

Who was he? What was his background? Su Qing was a scholar, but that did not mean he was ignorant of politics. He had to begin re-evaluating the entire situation.

"Professor Su." Cha Wenbin once again broke the awkward silence. He asked, "Is it possible—and I am only speaking of possibilities—that, excluding the element of coincidence, the original owner of this sword and my friend who mysteriously disappeared are the same person?"

"Impossible!" Su Qing said decisively. "Young man, you must respect and believe in science. If it were truly possible for a modern person to return to ancient times, wouldn't history be thrown into total chaos?"

Cha Wenbin said with a hint of chagrin, "Then it can only be called a coincidence." With that, he prepared to take us away, but Professor Su called out from behind, "Wait."

I turned back, and he added, "The higher-ups have instructed me to provide you with support. I don't care who you are, but I advise you not to do anything illegal. Within the permitted scope of policy, you may come to me at any time."

"Many thanks! Farewell!"

In that era, street-stall literature mostly told tales of martial arts heroes like the *Seven Heroes and Five Gallants*. Novels were the domain of Gu Long and Jin Yong, lacking the many elements of modern fast-food literature; concepts like time travel were unheard of. Therefore, both Cha Wenbin and I felt this was likely just a coincidence. Although Cha Wenbin was a Taoist, he believed in science and knew that time was irreversible. Thus, even if Fatty had gone missing, it was absolutely impossible for him to have returned to the Tang Dynasty a thousand years ago. It was better to view it as a miraculous coincidence.

There was also some progress regarding the Jiang family. After all, Zhu Zihao had returned under the guise of being a Hong Kong businessman visiting relatives, and the local government attached great importance to it. With the cooperation of several departments, a clue had finally emerged.

That afternoon, when we returned to Nanhu, people were already waiting in the township. As soon as we stepped out of the car, Township Head Xu pulled us into a house. Inside was a white-haired old man. The protruding cheekbones and sunken cheeks told me he was nearing seventy, yet his eyes were exceptionally bright.

As soon as we entered, Township Head Xu introduced him impatiently: "Hu Genglin, ninety-one years of age. He knows something about Mr. Zhu's ancestral home."

Zhu Zihao stepped forward and shook his hand, greeting him, "Old sir, how do you do?"

Upon seeing Zhu Zihao, the old man choked up, clutching Zhu Zihao's hand and trembling, "Little Master? Are you the Little Master?"

Zhu Zihao was baffled by the address and turned to look at Township Head Xu, feeling at a loss. "Who is this?"

"Come, let me introduce you. He was a servant for the Jiang family back then. When your grandmother was married off, he was only seven or eight years old, a shepherd boy for the Jiang family. He now lives in Guojiabao Township."

The old man kept holding onto Zhu Zihao, asking excitedly, "Little Master, are you really the granddaughter's grandson?"

"I am..." Zhu Zihao looked back at Cha Wenbin, who signaled him to continue. He said, "I am the grandson of Jiang Yu. Did you know my grandmother?"

To everyone's surprise, Old Hu began to weep and made a move to kneel on the ground. Fortunately, Zhu Zihao pulled him up in time and sat him down.

"Oh, Little Master, you have finally returned! I have failed the master's instructions!"

Although Old Hu was aged, his thoughts and speech were still clear. It turned out that three years after Jiang Yu was married off, the Japanese invaded. The Gansu region was plagued by bandits, and since the Jiang family was a wealthy household with grain and money, they naturally became targets for plunder. After several attempts at resistance, Old Master Jiang decided to move the family away to escape the chaos, leaving only a few servants to look after the property. Hu Genglin was only a ten-year-old boy at the time, earning his living by herding for the Jiangs, and was one of those left behind.

Old Master Jiang originally intended to move the family to Taiyuan, but they encountered a band of robbers on the way. The Jiang family suffered heavy casualties, and by the time Old Master Jiang returned home, he was barely clinging to life.

During the six months they were in flight, the few remaining servants of the Jiang family colluded to liquidate the family's valuables and fled with the money. Only Hu Genglin, feeling that the master had treated him well, insisted on staying. Thus, when Old Master Jiang returned, only the two of them were left.

Less than six months later, Old Master Jiang passed away. On his deathbed, he entrusted Hu Genglin to bury him properly and tell the young mistress where his grave was when she returned. Who would have known that a year later, the civil war would break out? Hu Genglin was conscripted by the Kuomintang and drifted for many years, surviving several brushes with death. By the time he returned, the old Jiang residence had been razed to the ground, and even Old Master Jiang's grave had been dug up, fueled by rumors that the wealthy Jiang family had buried valuables in the tomb.

"I couldn't even find all the bones!" Speaking of the painful memory, Hu Genglin wept again, clutching Zhu Zihao's hand and saying, "I have failed the master. Now that you have finally returned, I can at least give him an account."

At the foot of Mount Longshou, just a few hundred meters from where we had camped that day, there was an inconspicuous little dirt mound with a wooden grave marker in front. The writing on the marker had long since faded, and only the character "Jiang" could be barely identified. Hu Genglin said this was the burial site of Old Master Jiang; he had collected the scattered remains and reburied them at the original site.

Zhu Zihao knelt, kowtowed, burned incense, and offered wine. With a fit of inexplicable, mournful wailing, the kinship was acknowledged. Township Head Xu was pleased; now that the Hong Kong businessman's wish had been fulfilled, he surely wouldn't run away.

Back in the township, Zhu Zihao insisted on hosting a dinner that evening. We went to a restaurant in town and treated Old Hu as a guest of honor. Now that we had found the person, the true purpose of this visit to his ancestral home had only just begun.