Shen Nian returned to Liucun, where he had been away for fifteen years, on the third day after receiving a call from his second uncle.
On the other end of the phone, the second uncle's voice was hoarse and brief: "Your mother is gone, come back." Then there was a busy signal. No pleasantries, no inquiries, not even waiting for his response. It was like informing a distant relative rather than her biological grandson.
It takes three hours by bus from the provincial capital to the county town. Then transfer to the rural minibus from the county town, which only runs twice a day, and it takes nearly two hours. The scenery outside the car window gradually changes from high-rise buildings to harvested rice fields, and then to rolling hills. The road became more and more bumpy, and the mobile phone signal went from full bar to one bar, and finally disappeared completely.
Shen Nian put the phone back in his pocket, leaned on the back seat and closed his eyes to relax. He really didn't want to come back, but he had to come back. His grandmother only had a vague idea of him - she would ask someone to bring a jar of pickles or a pair of cloth shoes during festivals. In his memory, this mountain village was so poor that it didn't even have a decent road.
The car stopped at a fork in the road, and the driver shouted without looking back: "The driver in Liucun is getting off."
