Short, Light, Free

Chapter 160: Door of Truth (Part 2) I

The moment I was pulled into the room, I collapsed.

As I gasped for air, all kinds of thoughts flashed through my mind. The most persistent one, though, was why did Father Dahai help me?

I lay flat on the ground, conscious that my back was now covered in dust.

It was extremely uncomfortable but I did not care.

I was so tired and my arms were trembling. I was totally out of strength.

Dahai watched me for a few seconds as I struggled for breath before switching his mobile light off.

The room was completely dark and all I could hear was my own ragged pants.

“Ask,” Dahai prompted.

“Why... so many.. uniforms?” I managed.

“Passed down from each generation.”

“Ancestors? Are they Chinese or the war devils1?” I asked.

The moment I let that question slipped, I knew I had done wrong.

I’d been too direct.

“Chinese, of course.

“Chinese? And you’re spreading Christianity within China? Not orthodox Christianity but an easternized version?”

Dahai stamped his foot frustratedly and replied, “We have no choice but to conceal this, to pass this down. They mustn’t find the things in here so that’s what we are preventing.”

“They who?”

“Everyone excluding the five of us,” Dahai answered.

“Everyone?”

“Yes. Everyone.”

“Who are you guys afraid of then?”

“Everyone,” he repeated, taking a cigarette out. I did not notice until the light and smell came out.

The sparks from the cigarette flickered amid the darkness.

“I heard everything you guys said earlier. You initially wanted to let me in on this secret?”

“Do you wanna know?” he asked.

“You guys aren’t bad people, are you?” I asked with uncertainty.

Father Dahai had watched me grow up. I knew he wasn’t a bad person because he kept my secret. He could’ve killed me easily by pushing the window to make me fall off.

Not only did he keep my location a secret, he pulled me back into the attic.

The other Fathers could be bad people, but I trust Dahai.

The way he was acting right now, at least, gave me that confidence.

I was over 20 years old and only had about 10 conscious years of memories. I wouldn’t say that Dahai was like a dad to me, but he definitely was someone I respected.

With a forced smile, he responded, “I can tell you the story but you won’t be able to leave this place after that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll have to pass this secret down to the next generation and then take it to your grave.”

“It’s like this is some sort of... unspeakable secret.”

“Yes, that’s apt,” he agreed with a bitter smile.

“I don’t think you understood my point. You said that I’m supposed to pass it down, but I can’t speak to anyone about it? That’s not a secret. Might as well just keep it from the younger generation and let it die out.”

“But this secret’s been passed on for more than a hundred years. We’re the witnesses and these are the evidence,” Dahai replied vehemently. “I was like you back then. The only difference between us was that I had no choice. After listening to the story, however, I discovered the honor and glory within. It’s a pity that it has to be hidden.”

“I thought that you guys were just bogus Fathers, but now this is looking more and more like an evil cult,” I said, standing up.

“You’re better than all of us. I can give you a choice. Leave without knowing and never come back, or listen to my story and keep it for life.”

My first thought was to listen to the story and determine where to go from there.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll tell you slowly so don’t interrupt me.”

I nodded but he probably couldn’t see it in the dark anyway.

A red spark lit up.

“Remember the uniform?” he asked after a puff.

I did not respond.

“Hey? Are you listening?”

“You told me not to interrupt, didn’t you?”

“I’m asking you!”

“I remember. The clothes in the box,” I answered.

“Do you know how long ago did the invasion occur?”

“It happened sometime in 1937. The devils invaded the Central Plain, first opening up Lugou Bridge and then Shanghai Pass.”

“Yeah. This church was built in 1939. An overseas Chinese returned to China and told us that the devils will not invade the westerners’ church. Do you have a rough idea of what these items here in the attic are?

“A place to gather intelligence like in the war resistance or spy films?” I asked in wonder.

“You’re pretty imaginative. You’re about right. My ancestors sent and receive reports from in here. You must’ve seen the bells in the window. There used to be a rope reaching the corridor below. Intruders would engage the rope and in turn notify the people above, giving them sufficient preparation time.”

“What about the uniforms and flag? For the Chinese to disguise themselves as the devils in case the latter barge in?”

“No, no. The devils came up and were killed by our people. Seven sets of uniform and a flag.”

“I remember seeing only four. If what you said is true, wouldn’t this place be a historical spot? Why can’t the public know about this? Make it known and your ancestors can bask in the glory, no?”

“I’m about to tell you about the three missing sets, and also the reason why it has become a secret.”

“Alright, tell me in detail. I really wanna know,” I said.

The conflict I felt within me was unbearable.

1. wartime term for the Japanese

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