The middle-aged man surnamed Ke. Learning his ancestral grave was in Guangdong, I hesitated—far from Shenyang, and I'd just wanted to spend time with Zhao Na like a normal young man.
"Is there a problem, Master?" Mr. Ke asked.
"It's quite a distance," I said. "At least a week round-trip, and I'd have to close the shop. Maybe try someone else?"
"Don't refuse, Master! Dajun spoke highly of you. I need to know—are you confident?"
"Confident, but the distance..."
He stood before my desk. "I'll cover flights. 10,000 yuan if you locate the grave."
Tempted—10,000 yuan was a fortune in 2007. I accepted the job. Mr. Ke paid half the deposit upfront, and we booked an 8 AM flight for the next day.
Shortly after he left, Zhao Na bounced into Yi Zhai. "Dabao! I'm on vacation—let's go to Dalian!"
My heart leaped, but I'd promised Mr. Ke. "I have to go to Guangdong tomorrow. Back in 3-7 days, okay?"
She frowned. "You're always busy when I ask. Avoiding me?"
I apologized profusely, explaining until she smiled. "My dad leaves next week, and I might go to New York. I wanted to relax with you."
"I must keep my word. When you're back, we'll go to Sanya!"
"Fine—spend today with me."
I closed the shop, joined her for shopping, movies, and dinner. Her playful and tender moments melted my heart. Passing a budget hotel at night, she stopped, eyes bright. "Aren't you inviting me in?"
Though inexperienced, I understood her hint. My ears and cheeks burned—even more shy than her!
"I... I... Will you marry me?"
She stared like I was an alien. "Joking, right?"
"Serious." She pushed me, voice unreadable. "Stop fooling around. Go home. I'm not ready to marry." Then she hailed a cab and left. I stood confused: Did I say the wrong thing?
Home, I packed. My tools needed checking, but Mr. Ke handled it. The next day, we flew to Guangzhou.
Landing before noon, we were met by a Mercedes. Mr. Ke was wealthy, with leather businesses nationwide. He talked about Guangdong's culture as we drove. The skyscrapers impressed me, but I missed Shenyang's dry heat.
When he invited me to dine, I thought of Zhao Na. "Ate on the plane. Let's start work."
He insisted briefly but yielded. I was here to work—finish fast and return.
The village wasn't far. After two hours, we arrived. Guangdong's emphasis on funerals was renowned, with feng shui masters thriving here, especially near Hong Kong.
Stepping out, I saw countless unmarked graves. Mr. Ke explained: thirty years ago, a Taoist said this hill held a dragon vein. Bosses flocked to bury ancestors here, but the hill owner forbade tombstones—lest they "steal the dragon's qi." Recent floods and a developer's purchase forced relocations.