Sold into a ghost marriage? Four-year-old and his thuggish father go on a killing spree.

"Yanqiu, come out and say a few words."

Gu Yanchun stood at the gate of the dilapidated house.

He was wearing a slightly worn Zhongshan suit—the kind the militia captain wore to meetings.

Her hair was neatly combed back.

He seemed to be acting like an older brother who cares about his younger brother.

Gu Yanqiu came out from behind the stove, wiping her hands.

Niannian crouched behind the door—she didn't go out.

But its ears are standing straight up.

The two brothers stood by the low wall at the entrance of the courtyard.

In the April twilight, the sun had already sunk behind the mountain ridge.

The remaining orange-red light from the other half of the sky shone on their faces—

One is bright, the other is gloomy.

"Yanqiu—" Gu Yanchun spoke up.

His tone was very gentle.

Like chatting.

"I heard you've been quite busy repairing farm machinery lately? Several nearby production brigades have been contacting you?"

"Um."

"Your skills are good—did you learn in a training course?"

"It was taught by Director Zhao."

"Mm." Gu Yanchun nodded.

He paused for two seconds.

"Let me tell you the truth, brother."

He put his hands behind his back and paced back and forth a couple of steps—

This is his usual posture when he holds meetings in the militia.

"I won't stop you from separating from the family. I won't interfere with your life on your own. But Yanqiu—don't forget one thing."

He stopped and looked at Gu Yanqiu.

"Your surname is Gu."

Gu Yanqiu did not respond.

"Your parents are getting old—you can't just abandon them. Separating the family is one thing, but supporting your parents is your fundamental duty. You need to understand that."

"Big brother—" Gu Yanqiu said expressionlessly.

"It's all clearly stated in the family division agreement. The support for my parents will be divided equally among them. Every month, I will pay my share of grain to the public treasury—not a single grain less."

His voice was not high.

But every word was powerful and resounding.

"The rest—I can't control it. And I don't want to."

Gu Yanchun's eye twitched.

He didn't get angry immediately.

Instead, the tone changed—lower. Slower. As if reminding someone of something very important.

"Yanqiu, you're out there repairing machines and selling mountain products—your brother is so happy for you."

His speech slowed down.

"But—have you thought about it—what would the commune think if it found out about these tasks?"

Gu Yanqiu's fingers clenched slightly.

He knew the weight of those words.

"You are now an independent business owner, separate from the production team. You earn money outside—whether by buying mountain products or repairing machines and charging for your services—this is in accordance with the commune's rules—"

Gu Yanchun paused for a moment.

Then he uttered four words—

"Speculation and profiteering."

The four characters look like four nails.

It was stuck in the cold wind of dusk.

Speculation and profiteering.

The countryside in 1964—these four words are more terrifying than "jail".

Once that label is put on you, your life is over.

It's not about deducting work points.

It involved criticism sessions, public humiliation, imprisonment in cowsheds, and even being sent to labor camps.

Gu Yanqiu's face darkened.

He looked into Gu Yanchun's eyes—those eyes held no brotherly affection.

Some people are calm and collected after they have gained leverage over others.

"Big brother," Gu Yanqiu said calmly.

"Go ahead and sue me if you want."

Gu Yanchun's expression paused slightly.

"But I'd like to remind you of something—" Gu Yanqiu's tone remained unchanged, as calm as when stating the weather.

"The work at the brick kiln was arranged by the production brigade. There was an approval slip from Uncle Cheng Tiezhu."

"Agricultural machinery repair—was also assigned by the brigade. I repaired the diesel engine—Uncle Cheng Tiezhu was there. Repairing machines from other brigades—was also coordinated between brigades."

He raised his head.

"Mountain products—those grow on the mountains. The mountains belong to the public—all commune members can gather them. I gather them and take them to the supply and marketing cooperative to sell—the supply and marketing cooperative issues receipts."

His gaze met Gu Yanchun's eyes directly.

"Tell me then—which one is 'speculation and profiteering'?"

Gu Yanchun's lips twitched.

He hadn't expected Gu Yanqiu—the "cowardly" younger brother he remembered—to be so tough.

Moreover, each one has its origin, approval document, and witnesses.

It wasn't done secretly or clandestinely.

But Gu Yanchun will not give up so easily.

His bottom line was crossed—his younger brother had separated from the family and was living a better and better life.

His elder brother, the militia captain—was actually outshone.

I can't swallow this insult.

"Yanqiu." He lowered his hands from behind his back.

The tone changed.

It's no longer about "the older brother caring for the younger brother".

It is a blatant threat.

"You're all grown up now—I can't control you anymore. But there are some things—think them through."

He took a step forward.

The voice was very low—as if squeezed out from between his teeth.

"Hats are something that you can't just ignore if you're not in a bad situation."

If someone says you're in trouble—then you're in trouble.

After he finished speaking...

Turned around and left.

The footsteps disappeared behind the low wall.

—At the entrance of the courtyard.

Gu Yanqiu stood still.

Not moving at all.

The last rays of twilight swept across his face—illuminating his taut jawline and the throbbing veins on his temples.

His hands clenched into fists.

The knuckles made a "crack" sound.

The words "speculation and profiteering" swirled in my mind three times.

He is not afraid of hardship.

Not afraid of being poor.

He's not afraid of chopping wood, carrying water, moving bricks, or repairing machines—he can do anything.

But he was afraid of a hat.

A hat can crush a person.

No evidence is needed.

No trial is needed.

All you need is someone to speak up.

Gu Yanchun is right.

"If someone says you're in trouble—then you're in trouble."

This statement is the cruelest truth of our time.

—Behind the door.

Niannian squatted in the door frame.

An eye peered out through the crack in the door.

She heard every word her uncle said.

Every single word.

Including the last sentence—"If someone says you're in trouble—then you're in trouble."

Niannian's hands gripped the door frame—her fingernails dug into the decaying old wood.

Her mind was racing.

My father's work—it had approval slips, witnesses, and receipts.

From a procedural standpoint—there are no problems.

But what my uncle was talking about wasn't the process—it was the "hat".

Hats don't require any procedures.

All a hat needs is—a mouth.

The mouth of a militia captain.

At a commune meeting, casually mentioning "my brother is involved in speculation and profiteering"—no evidence needed—whether the higher-ups investigate is another matter, but once word gets out—

Gu Yanqiu is finished.

No one dared to come to him to fix their machines.

No one dared to buy his mountain produce.

Even the brick kiln factory couldn't keep up with the work.

A hat.

Four words.

That can completely block all of a person's options.

Niannian slowly loosened her grip on the door frame.

A ring of wood chips was embedded in his fingernail.

She did not go to see her father.

He didn't say anything.

She went back to the stove and squatted down.

Staring at the fire in the stove.

The flames flickered.

The light flickered.

In the firelight—there was no fear on Niannian's face.

Some of them possess a calmness that doesn't belong to a four-and-a-half-year-old child.

Dad needs a protective umbrella.

This path cannot be taken by simply relying on physical strength or skills.

Someone needs to be there to protect it.

It doesn't need to be a very big person.

All you need is someone slightly older than your uncle.

He was slightly older than a village militia captain.

Several names flashed through Niannian's mind.

Cheng Tiezhu – Captain.

He can manage the affairs of the brigade.

But they couldn't control the commune.

If Gu Yanchun were to file a complaint with the commune—Cheng Tiezhu might not be able to save his life.

Director Zhao – the person in charge of the training course.

People in the commune.

But he only manages the training courses—he can't manage anything else.

Who else?

Niannian's eyes lingered on the ledger on the stove for a moment.

Next to the account book—are my mother's belongings.

That earthenware pot.

Inside the earthenware jar—there was a letter from my mother.

The letter contained some names.

Some names that Nian Nian hasn't had a chance to look at carefully yet.

She brought the earthenware pot over.

I gently lifted the lid.

The letter—neatly folded.

It was sandwiched between a yellowed photograph and a few banknotes.

Niannian took the letter out.

Unfold.

My mother's handwriting is delicate and beautiful, each stroke like a printed image.

The letter is short—but I read it very slowly.

She recognized some of the words.

There were some words she didn't recognize—but she could guess them by analogy.

Her gaze lingered on a line in the letter.

A name.

A name she had never heard her father mention before.

"If all difficulties arise, you can go to him."

My mother wrote an address after the name.

Niannian silently repeated the name and address twice.

remember.

She folded the letter again and put it back in the earthenware jar.

Close the lid.

The fire in the stove was still burning.

The firelight reflected on the surface of the earthenware pot, making it look like a thin layer of gold.

Outside the gate—Gu Yanqiu was still standing at the courtyard gate.

With his back to the house.

Remaining silent.

Niannian didn't call him.

She squatted in front of the stove, her fingers unconsciously drawing something on the ground.

I drew for a while—

She looked down at what she had drawn.

It is a single character.

"road".

It's crooked and twisted.

But it's much neater than last month's.

Niannian rubbed that word off with the sole of her foot.

stand up.

He patted the dust off his cotton-padded trousers.

As she walked to the door, she tugged at Gu Yanqiu's sleeve.

"dad."

"Um."

"In my mother's letter—there was a name."

Gu Yanqiu looked down at her daughter.

"Did you read the letter?"

"Um."

"Which name?"

Niannian's lips moved slightly.

He uttered two words.

Gu Yanqiu's body stiffened for a moment.

His eyes—which had been tired and gloomy—suddenly lit up.

It's dark again.

It's lit up again.

"You said—" His voice was a little strained.

"Mom said—if there are any difficulties, you can go to him." Niannian's voice was steady.

"Dad—is this considered extremely difficult now?"

The last rays of twilight disappeared behind the mountain ridge.

It got dark.

But in the eyes of the father and daughter—there was something shining.

Like two buds that have just emerged from the frozen soil.

Braving the darkness.

It grows upwards.