When Fang Li woke up, Qin Weidong was no longer beside him. Lately, Qin had been going to the county a lot, and Fang Li didn’t know why. His mom, Li Wenling, had also packed up and left.
The courtyard was eerily quiet. Fang Li called out a couple of times, puzzled. It wasn’t unusual for his dad to vanish, but even his dad’s young wife and their kid were gone so early in the morning.
It was only the first day of the New Year, and already there was no trace of holiday spirit. Fang Li ate the sweet potatoes Qin Weidong had left warm on the stove. From the eastern room, he vaguely heard his grandmother calling him.
Since she’d come back from the hospital, her health had worsened day by day. Now, she could barely breathe, let alone walk. She lay there with sunken, wrinkled eyes and gestured for Fang Li to come closer.
His eyes turned red instantly, though he forced a smile.
“Grandma, it’s New Year’s Day today. Your son came to see you—and brought something from the city…”
Nose tingling with emotion, Fang Li ran outside, wiped his cheeks, and rummaged through the cellar for the gift box of New Year apples his dad had brought from the city. Only the top layer was good—the ones underneath had all rotted. He picked the biggest, reddest one to bring to her.
“Grandma, let me peel you an apple, alright?”
She gripped Fang Li’s hand, not letting go, and gently touched his skin.
“Xiao Wu… Everything of Grandma’s… is yours…”
She coughed, struggling to sit up. With trembling hands, she reached for a small, old wooden box hidden by the bed. Inside, wrapped in red cloth, were a gold bracelet and a pair of gold earrings.
“I don’t want your things, Grandma…”
Fang Li refused, and she raised her hand to scold him—but her arm wouldn’t lift. She collapsed back down onto the bedding, mouth wide open, gasping desperately for air.
“Grandma! Grandma!”
Fang Li panicked. Qin Weidong wasn’t home, and he had no idea what to do. He’d heard people say that with silicosis, in the end, the lungs felt like they were filled with cement—so heavy you couldn’t breathe, so painful you just suffocated. He quickly helped her lie down properly, clutched her hand, and pleaded in a panic,
“Grandma, please don’t scare me… don’t scare me…”
She stared upward, gulped several deep breaths, then gradually calmed down. Her trembling fingers reached out and tapped the back of Fang Li’s neck.
Fang Li understood what she meant and rushed out to find his father.
His father was at the mine. It was the first day of the New Year, and all the workers who had been protesting for their wages had gone home for the holiday—only Uncle Pan had stayed behind, remembering Qin Weidong’s orders to keep an eye on the pile of ore inside the tunnel.
But now, Fang Hongqing had shown up with several unfamiliar workers and a large semi-truck, intending to haul the ore off the mountain.
“Dad! Grandma’s not doing well—please go back and check on her!”
“Who’s in charge of this mine, me or that greenhorn Qin Weidong? I said we’re moving the ore, and that’s final! Pan, don’t forget who signs your paychecks!”
Fang Hongqing was furious. He shoved Uncle Pan aside and barked orders at the workers he’d brought: “Load up every last bit! Don’t leave a single piece behind! Move it, now!”
Then he turned to Fang Li. “What did you just say?”
“Grandma’s dying, Dad. Please go back—she wants to see you…!”
Fang Hongqing pulled out his bulky cell phone and glanced at it. Several calls from debt collectors flashed on the screen, sending his temper flaring. “Damn it! Bad luck on New Year’s Day—brought on by that old hag, no doubt! Go back home! I heard you!”
Irritated, he turned away and shouted at the workers to keep loading before the sun went down. Fang Li clenched his fists and suddenly rushed forward, grabbing his father by the collar.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Fang Li?! You want to rebel now?!”
Fang Li yelled, voice trembling with emotion: “Dad, please! Just go see her! Grandma doesn’t have much time left… she’s asking for you!”
“Get lost!”
Something in Fang Li’s words struck a nerve. Fang Hongqing exploded in rage. He yanked Fang Li’s hand off him and threw him to the ground. Fang Li landed hard, scraping his palm on the sharp gravel until it bled. Fang Hongqing, completely unhinged now, pulled a folded piece of paper from his coat and threw it in Fang Li’s face.
“Stop calling her your grandma! I’ve already done more than enough raising you all these years! If your whore of a mother hadn’t cheated on me and I hadn’t found out in time, I’d still be raising someone else’s bastard son!”
He was shouting so loudly, spit flew from his mouth. Fang Li sat frozen, eyes wide, unable to believe what he was hearing. What was his father saying? Raising someone else’s son?
He snatched up the paper from the ground. It was a crumpled, folded medical report stamped by the county hospital. In a panic, Fang Li’s eyes raced to the final line: “Paternity between Fang Hongqing and Fang Li is excluded.”
In that instant, Fang Li felt as if a heavy bell had crashed down over his head, the resounding strike splitting his mind into blinding white chaos.
“These nineteen years—I haven’t shortchanged you. Now go as far away as you can with that mother of yours!”
To Fang Hongqing, Fang Li had always been just a nameless, faceless child born of a woman—left to be raised back in the village without a second thought. He had never lacked children. But now, standing in front of him, Fang Li had become a thorn in his eye—a walking, breathing reminder of the deepest humiliation in his life as a man.
Clutching his briefcase, Fang Hongqing moved to continue directing the workers, only for Fang Li to throw his arms around his leg.
Fang Li looked up, tears spilling from his eyes in a panic. “Please… Dad! Just go see Grandma. She’s about to go… She just wants to say something to you…!”
“Get off me!” Fang Hongqing kicked him away in disgust and strode toward the mine, barking at the workers to speed up loading.
Seeing the situation spiraling, Uncle Pan grew alarmed. This batch of ore was their last hope. The mine was basically dead—without this load of raw ore, they had no way forward. Qin Weidong had left strict instructions before leaving: No one touches the ore—not even Fang Hongqing. But seeing how readily Fang Hongqing had signed the IOU yesterday, Uncle Pan had let his guard down and dismissed the worker on duty.
Now in a panic, Uncle Pan grabbed the mine’s phone and tried calling Qin Weidong, but the young man had gone into town, and none of the gold shop owners he knew had seen him either. Desperate, Uncle Pan secretly sent someone to inform Master Yang, begging him to bring the other workers quickly. Judging by the way things were going, Fang Hongqing might be about to make off with everything.
When Fang Hongqing saw Uncle Pan making a phone call behind his back, he had the line yanked out and smashed the phone on the ground.
The sun was already sinking low. One after another, the heavy trucks rolled down the mountain, kicking up clouds of dust. By the time a dozen or so workers rushed to the mine, over a thousand tons of raw ore had already been hauled away. Only scraps and shattered bits remained.
That was when the workers realized—they’d been conned.
Half a year’s worth of backbreaking labor, gone. Rage erupted, uncontrollable. They grabbed whatever tools they could find and gave chase.
Fang Li ran back to his grandmother. She was clinging to her final breath, her mouth open, eyes wide, lips moving soundlessly as she stared past Fang Li’s shoulder.
“Grandma… please don’t go. Don’t leave me…”
Fang Li was covered in dust, disheveled and miserable. He wept uncontrollably. Just the night before, everything had been fine.
Within mere hours, the New Year had morphed into a nightmare. Fang Li clutched his grandmother’s hand as if his insides were being ripped apart. He prayed desperately to wake up from this terrible dream—he’d give anything in exchange.
Sensing that there was no one behind the door, his grandmother mustered the strength to lift her heavy eyelids one last time, glancing toward Fang Li by her bedside.
Perhaps, in the final moments of her life, she saw clearly for the first time that this grandson was not the late Fang Hui—but by then, it no longer mattered.
In her fading vision, a young Fang Hui’s smiling face reappeared.
“Xiao Wu… Xiao Wu…!”
She gasped rapidly for breath, like a shriveled, leaking balloon being repeatedly inflated and drained—unable to hold its shape, air escaping until it finally collapsed.
Fang Li lay by the bed, weeping uncontrollably, completely unaware that outside, the enraged workers—unable to find Fang Hongqing—had turned their attention toward the Fang household at the foot of the hill, brandishing shovels and hammers as they came.
Peng Chao, who had been visiting relatives, heard someone shout that Fang Hongqing—the swindler—had stolen the ore and fled! The miners were coming after his son, Fang Li, threatening to use him to get their money back.
Realizing the danger, Peng Chao rushed toward the Fang residence. From a distance at the crossroads, he saw a swarm of angry miners—dozens of them—joined by able-bodied villagers home for the New Year. A black mass of furious men surged forward with tools in hand, and someone in the crowd shouted, “Grab that brat Fang Li! Make Fang Hongqing pay back our blood money!”
Peng Chao, terrified, scrambled over the back wall of the Fang home.
“Fang Li! Run! Your dad’s in trouble! He emptied the mine and took off! Now the miners have gone mad! They’re coming for you to get their money back!”
Fang Li had cried himself into a stupor, nearly passing out. Peng Chao clung to the window frame, shouting and cursing at him in desperation: “Snap out of it! Get moving! If they catch you, you’re dead! They’ll beat you to death!!”
Outside, the furious roars of the out-of-control workers were already echoing through the house. Stunned, Fang Li was frozen, his mind blank from grief and terror, limbs drained of all strength, unable to move.
Peng Chao was about to climb through the window to haul him up when—
Bang! The front door was kicked open.
It was Qin Weidong who had returned. He was drenched in sweat, his chest heaving with every breath. The moment he stepped in, his eyes landed on Fang Li slumped on the floor like a shattered puppet. Seeing him like that—after being gone for just one afternoon—was like having a sharp blade twist and grind through his heart.
“Lili, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left. I’m back now…”
Qin Weidong knelt and gathered Fang Li into his arms. Tears welled uncontrollably in Fang Li’s eyes, spilling down in heavy drops.
A few seconds later, he grabbed hold of Qin Weidong’s jacket and began pounding his chest and face in a frenzy.
“Where the hell did you go?! Qin Weidong! Do you know Grandma’s gone?! She’s gone!!”
Fang Li screamed through his tears. Today’s nightmare still hadn’t ended. In fact, it had gone far beyond anything he could possibly endure.
All these years, he had always been shielded behind Qin Weidong. As a child, when he was caught stealing and beaten, it was Qin Weidong who took the blows. When they grew older and Fang Hongqing told him to manage the mine, he refused, saying it was too dirty and exhausting—so Qin Weidong took over in his place.
Fang Li had never endured hardship—not even wind or rain. All his fear, rage, and helpless grief—everything he couldn’t bear—poured out onto Qin Weidong.
Axolotl Translations 
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