On the seventh day after my grandfather was buried, I dreamed of a rainy night in my old house decades ago.
In the dream, a group of warlords rushed into the yard with guns, smashed cabinets, opened stoves, dug through the floor, looking for things like crazy. But my grandfather, who was already dead, took advantage of the chaos and buried a box in the side yard, just three feet underground.
After I woke up, I saw the cracked blue brick in my dream in my ancestral house.
I didn't believe in evil until I bought a metal detector and actually dug out a box with an iron sheet and wooden core three feet underground. There are gold bars, silver coins, old jade, a book of old accounts, and an old seal that cannot see the light.
I thought what my grandfather left me was just a windfall.
Later I realized that what was buried in that box was not money, but a road that could turn me over or kill me.
