"Yi, we need to make another stop."
As the scenery outside the car window grew increasingly lush and green, Cheng Yi realised they were heading out to the countryside. The day's events had been so strange that she could barely keep up. Though her mind was full of questions, the unusually serious expression on Ye George's face told her this wasn't the right time to ask. As the car continued its journey, she noticed George's furrowed brow deepen, his demeanour growing ever more solemn.
Over an hour later, the car slowly rolled into an ancient village, eventually stopping in front of a shrine. The Ye Family Ancestral Hall—George must have come to pay his respects and visit his ancestors. Cheng Yi hesitated to follow George into the shrine; she'd always heard that not all family shrines permitted women to enter.
"Come inside. Let's offer some incense to our ancestors."
George explained that some of the Ye family had moved abroad, the clan had become more open-minded, allowing women to enter the shrine freely. Cheng Yi, though slightly hesitant, followed him inside.
She looked around, taking in the shrine's unusual blend of architectural styles. Unlike the traditional ancestral halls she'd seen before, this one merged elements of Chinese and Western design. The main structure was built with traditional Chinese grey bricks and red tiles, with intricately carved pillars. Yet, there were touches of Western influence in the details: the windows were fitted with Nanyang-style shutters, and the roof and windows featured stained glass reminiscent of a Western church. As sunlight filtered through the coloured glass, it cast vibrant patterns across the shrine's interior.
Cheng Yi respectfully handed George an incense stick, then knelt beside him as they bowed in reverence.
After leaving the shrine, Cheng Yi took in more of the village surroundings. The archway at the entrance bore the inscription "Ye Family Ancient Village." In front of the shrine lay a large lotus pond, and behind it, neat rows of houses. The village nestled against a green hillside, with homes arranged around the shrine. Some were newly built villas, while others were century-old houses, yet all shared a consistent architectural style, reflecting the unity of the clan. The village was peaceful, likely because most of the younger generation had gone to the cities for work, leaving behind the elderly and children. Cheng Yi followed George as they wound through the village's narrow lanes, eventually stopping in front of an old house.
This house, unlike the others in the village, was particularly small and weathered. Judging by the aged bricks, it had stood for over a century. The house was modest, less than 50 square metres, a simple two-storey structure with a low wall enclosing it and a small courtyard in front. Though old, the house was well-maintained: the courtyard was spotless, an old starfruit tree in the corner bore bright green fruit, and the freshly pasted couplets on the door and the weed-free ground indicated that someone was regularly caring for the place.
The gate to the courtyard was unlocked. George pushed it open gently, and it creaked softly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a well-worn brass key, which he used to unlock the door with a quiet twist. As he pushed the door open, it groaned on its hinges. Despite the midday sun, the interior was dim, Cheng Yi squinted, trying to adjust to the darkness inside. The furnishings were sparse—a square table in the middle of the room, flanked by two old wooden stools. That was all.
The house followed the traditional Lingnan layout, with a front hall and a small room at the back separated by wooden partitions. The room was tiny, just enough space for a bed and a wardrobe. Upstairs, a small loft was enclosed by a low railing, offering a clear view of both levels. In the front hall, a few ancestral tablets were placed in a row, with the remnants of burnt incense in the censer.
Could this be the ancestral home? Cheng Yi wondered, picking up an incense stick from the side.
As she scanned the names on the tablets, her body suddenly froze. In disbelief, she turned to look at George, who was standing solemnly before one of the altars. George didn't seem to notice her reaction, calmly taking the incense from her hand, lighting it, and then bowing deeply in respect.
He slowly made his way over to a row of old photographs hanging on the wall. Cheng Yi followed in a daze, examining the black-and-white and colour photos. One was of three young boys and a woman in her youth, likely the elderly lady they'd met earlier that day with her sons. There were also several family portraits taken in front of the shrine, showing the prosperity of the clan. Cheng Yi's attention was drawn to a photo of a young couple. The man was handsome, the woman gentle and sweet, both holding a "double happiness" sign and smiling shyly. She didn't recognise the young man, but the woman's happy face was unmistakable.
Cheng Yi stood there, lost in thought, until George softly reminded her it was time to leave.
The drive back was silent, both of them deep in their own thoughts. As George quietly gave her another important task, Cheng Yi still hadn't recovered from the shock. Her mind kept replaying the image of the young couple in the photograph, and the words etched on the ancestral tablet:
In Loving Memory of
Ye Jiaming
Beloved Eldest Son of the Ye Family
Passed Away August 1990
Devoted Husband of Xu Shufang