My Ghost Lingers, Who Am I Afraid Of?

This story begins in Yuanjiafen Village, an extremely small village in the North China Plain. When I was a child, I often heard the elders in the village say that the reason why our village was called Yuanjiafeng was that before liberation, our ancestors had been guarding the tombs here for generations for the Yuan family, a wealthy man thirty miles away. While guarding, we also gave birth to unfilial descendants like us. Which family is the Yuan family thirty miles away? At that time, our children's family didn't know much about it. But in the north of our village, there was indeed a graveyard of the boss at the earliest. It is said that it was later suppressed by a group of young students who came in horse-drawn carriages during the movement, and it became a good wheat field that grew vigorously. However, what I want to describe now is actually not these. I would like to say that I was born in such a village, like an unpruned tree that grew wildly until I was fifteen - maybe sixteen. Then, he left on a dark and stormy night. After leaving, I never returned to this village. Now, I'm finally back. Here, what I want to tell you quietly is that what is coming back now is not my person, but my soul. What does it mean to return to one's hometown? That's probably what I am now. Right now, I am staying at the southernmost end of the village, in front of my courtyard that has become dilapidated. I want to think carefully about everything that happened. But all of a sudden I couldn't think clearly how everything happened at that time. But I know that memories can never be erased. I'll try to remember it bit by bit and tell you. Of course, what I will tell you in the end is probably more than that.