I Really Didn’t Mean To Be The Saviour Of The World - Chapter 641
Chapter 641: Chapter 404: Rewind and Fast Forward_2
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The old Sichuan native named Dunbar stomped his foot and slapped his thigh hard, “When you were a kid, did you ever get lost?”
“Yes.” Harrison Clark knew he must have run into someone who knew his grandfather Moor Clark, and his long-dormant heart began to pick up the pace.
“So it is you!” Old Dunbar suddenly stood up and grabbed Harrison by the shoulders with his rough hand. “When I went back to pay my respects at Chen’s grave, the neighbors mentioned that Chen’s grandson was found. He was also buried by you, and I was not quite sure. I was like, why do I feel so comfortable with your face, you look like Chen when he was young, but of course, you look more like your father when he was young.”
“I held him when he was just a month old. Your grandfather and I were close comrades, I was a scout, and he was a sniper. Your grandfather’s shooting skills when he was young, not to mention, he was ferocious within two hundred meters. Your father was also a promising talent, but… alas! Anyway, I … damn, the world is really small!”
Harrison’s eyes widened, and he was a little unbelieving.
One had to marvel at the wonders of fate.
He had never met his parents and only briefly spoke with his grandfather before he passed away.
Harrison knew his roots were there. The concept was clear in his heart, but sometimes it was elusive, intangible.
Because the old Chen family had virtually no relatives left, when Harrison buried Moor Clark, only a few of his grandfather’s elderly friends came to bid him farewell.
As for those local government officials, they were all aiming to curry favor with the well-known entrepreneur Harrison.
It was not until he met Old Harry that Harrison suddenly understood what the roots were.
In fact, the roots of Chinese people are not in a specific place, nor in a particular building, nor in a particular mountain, nor in a particular river, but in the feelings formed by generations of people rooted in a place, spreading slowly over decades and centuries through interpersonal relationships.
Harrison didn’t feel it before because he didn’t have it.
Now, as he met his grandfather’s old friend on Carlisle’s Sanford City Dawn Town far across the ocean, he finally understood.
This was what roots were.
“Little Chen, come with me. I have something to show you.”
Old Harry grabbed Harrison and headed towards the street across the way.
Harrison hurriedly said, “I haven’t paid for the tea yet!”
“Pay my ass! Old Sergio hasn’t paid me for fixing his watch last time either! Hurry up, hurry up!”
In no time, Old Harry pulled Harrison into his watch repair shop, then climbed the wooden ladder to the second floor with loud stomps, scaring his middle-aged son who yelled a reminder for him to slow down.
Harrison was first settled in the study.
“Wait here for a moment, I’ll go upstairs to rummage through the attic.”
Harrison nodded and looked around.
The second floor was much quieter than the first floor, with the noise from the street not penetrating it.
Old Harry left in a hurry and forgot to turn on the lights.
Light streamed in through the small window, and the grayish dust rolled like waves through the beams of light.
Before long, Old Harry trudged down the stairs with a heavy wooden box.
Seeing this, Harrison quickly went up to help.
After the box was placed on the grand master chair, Old Harry rubbed his waist and sighed, “When I was young, I could carry three of these boxes by myself.”
“Yes, yes, Old Harry, you’re still in your prime.”
Harrison smiled.
“Little Chen, you can open the box yourself.”
Old Harry sat on a stool next to him and handed an aluminum alloy key to Harrison.
With a click, the lock opened.
Harrison gently lifted the lid of the box.
A strong smell of mothballs rushed out.
Inside were neatly stacked… many woolen trousers and a thin photo album.
Without the need for Old Harry to teach him, Harrison picked up the photo album and flipped it open.
The album contained several yellowing black-and-white photos, sealed in plastic.
Most of the photos featured two people.
Harrison instantly recognized the pair.
The taller one, with thicker eyebrows, a squarer face, and a more imposing presence, was his young grandfather Moor Clark.
As for Old Harry, he was already wearing thick glasses when he was young.
“Look at the way your grandfather holds a gun. How’s that? Handsome, right? I’ve only admired him in my whole life, it’s just so stylish.”
Old Harry was beaming as he sized up Harrison and said, “The more I look at the young lad, the more he looks like him, and he even has the same aura. Are you a soldier? But it doesn’t look like it, wearing a Rolex in the army is not allowed. Wait… Sheesh… Harrison, if you’re here on a mission, you must be very careful.”
Harrison instantly understood where he had gone wrong and couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time.
How could I tell you, I’ve just been to Area 52 and slapped a lieutenant general’s face, and they dare not make a move in front of me?
“No, no, I’ve never been a soldier.”
Old Harry: “Oh, oh, oh, alas, what a pity.”
Harrison continued to flip through the photos and saw one of Moor Clark leaning against a tree, his hand resting on his thigh, which had a gaping, bloody hole in it.
Old Harry was not in this photo.
Old Harry craned his neck to look over and slowly said, “That battle was particularly dangerous. At that time, we were both on a reconnaissance mission together and were surrounded. My shooting skills were not good, and I had used up all my ammunition. Your grandfather single-handedly used up both our bullets, knocking down seven or eight enemies and scaring off a guerrilla force of over thirty people. However, his leg was hit, and I didn’t even notice. When reinforcements came and we were safe, he just sat down and asked me to take a photo of him. He said it was a memento.”
About ten minutes later, Harrison closed the photo album and asked somewhat puzzledly, “Old Harry, I didn’t see any of these things when I was packing up my grandfather’s belongings. Didn’t he leave any photos for himself?”
“Well, he was troubled for a while after your parents had an accident. Although he didn’t regret sending your father to the army, looking at these photos always reminded him of how much your father admired him as a child, so it made him emotional. In 2001, when I went back, he asked me to take them all with me.”
Harrison then pointed to the woolen pants next to him and asked, “And what are these?”
“After you got lost, your grandmother knitted two pairs of woolen pants every year. She started knitting when you were two years old and continued till you were eighteen. There are a total of sixteen pairs here. Your grandmother passed away in 2007, and when I went back to see your grandfather the next year, he said my grandson had just been born, and I could use them, so he asked me to take them with me. But my grandson stopped wearing them after the age of five. He wore the four pairs from ages two to five a few times, and the rest are brand new and untouched. I actually wanted to contact you earlier and give these to you, but the turtles in the county said you’re a big boss and a busy man, and they wouldn’t let me call and disturb you. Now everything is back to its rightful owner.”
Harrison leaned down and grabbed one of the coarse woolen pants made of average quality cotton and linen thread.
For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.
In the end, he just nodded lightly and said, “Thank you, Old Harry.”
In this short half hour, Harrison felt as if his life had been put on rewind and then fast-forwarded several decades.
He felt human again.
