sequence
Five years ago, I went to an ancient tomb with my girlfriend who was pregnant with my child. In order to save me, my girlfriend used her own body as a sacrifice, jumped into the bronze blood coffin, and sealed it with her own flesh and blood. As the ancient tomb collapsed, the bronze blood coffin sank into the underground river together.
In the past five years, I have traveled all over the country, trying to find a way to salvage the bronze blood coffin, but I have found nothing.
At the same time, I took over a paper-making shop from my friend Zhang Hazi, located at No. 14, Old Lane, Ciqikou Ancient Street, Yuzhou.
I thought that I would spend the rest of my days alone in this paper shop, but I didn’t expect that the customers who came to my door one after another made me understand that the incident five years ago was far from over...
The following is the sixth client I took over, Chen Siqing. For the convenience of narrative, I will narrate it from his first perspective. After his story is finished, I will tell the story of Zhang Hazi and me. I hope you will like.
The following is Chen Siqing’s first perspective:
I was born in Jingzhou, Huchu, and lived in the countryside since I was a child. My grandfather raised me. I thought that after graduating from college, my grandfather would enjoy a happy life, but I didn’t expect that on the day of graduation, before I had time to announce the good news, I received a funeral call from the village chief, saying that my grandfather was gone.
I shook my head and said it was impossible all the way. It wasn’t until I arrived at my hometown the next day and saw the mourning hall built in the main hall that I knew it was true.
The first thing I did after entering the house was to pay my respects to the body. The village chief asked several villagers to open the coffin lid together, and then uncovered the local paper money covering Grandpa’s face. I saw Grandpa lying quietly in the coffin with a peaceful face. It was as if he was asleep, not like a dead person at all.
I wanted to wake up my grandfather, but as soon as I opened my mouth, the sadness I had endured all the way finally burst out, and I burst into tears in an instant.
Seeing this, the village chief pushed me away with one hand, and then reached out to wipe my grandfather's cheek. While wiping, he turned around and scolded me: "You bastard, how come you don't get any tricks? Your eyes are watery. Can it be dripped onto the ancestor’s face?”
I later learned that this is a tradition in the village. After death, a piece of local paper money is placed on the face of the deceased to prevent the tears of relatives from dripping. Otherwise, the ancestors will be reluctant to leave and stay in the house.
Seeing that I was still crying, the village chief persuaded me again, saying that your grandfather was able to walk away in his sleep and did not suffer any pain. This was a joy and mourning, so you should not be too sad.
After he finished speaking, the village chief started to close the coffin. I don’t know if it was because of the blurred tears, but I could vaguely see that the corners of my grandfather’s mouth seemed to be more raised than before.
After the coffin was closed, I cried for a while, and then with the help of the villagers, I put on mourning clothes and a mourning handkerchief, knelt in front of my grandfather's soul, and kowtowed to offer incense at the greeting of the master of the dojo.
The sound of gongs and drums soon sounded. I knelt on the ground and looked at the photo of my grandfather on the Eight Immortals table. Thinking that I would never see my grandfather again, I couldn't stop crying again.
After a whole day at the dojo, I felt like the sky was falling, and I couldn't come back to my senses for a long time. This confused state didn't get better until my relatives came to express their condolences the next day.
I don’t know if it was an illusion, but when I accompanied my relatives to pay respects to his body, I noticed that the corners of my grandfather’s mouth seemed to be raised more obviously than before.
When my relatives saw this, they were sad and comforted me, saying that my grandfather was indeed in mourning and that I would never meet a person like this with a smile on his face in hundreds of years. And once they appear, they will go to heaven to become gods after death.
Some relatives testified that my grandfather has no wrinkles on his face, so he is not an immortal.
Hearing this, I suddenly realized that the skin on grandpa's face was indeed tighter than what I saw yesterday. But I didn’t think much about it, I just thought I was wrong.
Because of the limited conditions at home, the dojo only lasted for three days, and I went up to the mountain in the early morning of the fourth day. Before going up the mountain, Mr. Dojo invited us to take a last look at our grandpa, and then we were about to put nails on the coffin and prepare to go up the mountain.
When the coffin lid was opened and the local paper money was lifted, all of us couldn't help but take a breath - grandpa's body was actually laughing at us!
The corners of his smiling mouth before were now raised even more, even revealing the yellowed teeth in his mouth!
Moreover, the skin on Grandpa's face has become tighter, and all the wrinkles on his face have disappeared. His whole face looks as if it has been ironed, and it looks extremely weird!
All of us were dumbfounded, and each of us looked at Mr. Dojo and asked him how this could happen.
But Mr. Dojo just shook his head, saying that this was the first time he had encountered such a situation in so many years of doing Dojo. So much so that in the end he asked us if we still wanted to go up the mountain (for a funeral) as planned?
My grandfather had only one son, my father. It is said that he died when I was very young. Those who came to express condolences were all my grandfather's nephews and other relatives, all with foreign surnames. When things like this happen, they don't dare to make the decision, so they all look at me and wait for my decision.
Although I don't understand the funeral culture, I also know that the older generation pays attention to the burial. What's more, the date has been set. If it is changed temporarily, the villagers may not know what to say.
So I said bravely that it was probably caused by muscle contraction and it was nothing. Just go up the mountain as planned.
I was the only college student in the village. They didn't doubt my words, but they all secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Mr. Daochang greeted the young men who came to carry the coffin and asked them to nail the front and back of the coffin, then carry it to the sky and set it up on two benches. Afterwards, the young men began to tie up the ropes, set up the poles, and then stood next to the coffin and waited.
In our village, before the ancestors go up the mountain, the Taoist master will perform a ritual in front of the procession, and then use the peach wood sword in his hand to smash the tiles that are lying on the ground. The eight immortals carrying the coffin will lift the coffin in response, and continue all the way. , carry the coffin directly to the cemetery.
But here's the problem. After the dojo master finished the ritual, he slashed down with his sword, but the tiles didn't break!
At this moment, the faces of the folks who came to pay their respects suddenly turned ugly.
At that time, I didn’t know why they had such a big reaction. Later I learned that there is a saying in our village that if a sword is struck down, the more tiles are broken, it means that the descendants of this person will have branches. The more loose leaves there are, and if the tiles are not broken, it means that the family is likely to have no descendants.
It is precisely because of this that when preparing tiles, Taoist priests always choose old tiles that break when pinched. Some even knock out some cracks in the tiles in advance, just to break them with a split. This is the first time the entire village has encountered a situation like my grandfather's.
Discussions quickly spread among the crowd, asking whether my grandfather had left uneasily and had resentment in his heart, which was why the tiles could not be broken.
Mr. Dojo didn't care so much and struck again with his sword, but the tiles were still not broken. This time, the crowd became louder.
When my cousin and the others saw this, they hurriedly explained that my grandpa passed away peacefully with a smile on his face, so that the villagers should stop gossiping.
But I saw a layer of dense sweat on Mr. Dojo’s face on this cool summer morning.
He did not explain, but raised his sword and shouted at the tiles in a low voice: "Uncle You, do you really want to annihilate your descendants?"
His voice was so small that it was easily drowned out by the comments of the villagers. Only I who was closest to him could hear it.
After he finished shouting, he struck again. This time, the tiles shattered, but the peach wood sword in his hand also broke into two pieces. Mr. Pyrotechnics on the side did not care so much and hurriedly lit the firecrackers. The Eight Immortals shouted at the same time, then lifted the coffin and followed Mr. Dojo towards the cemetery.
After arriving at the cemetery chosen by Mr. Dojo, Mr. Dojo killed chickens and burned incense. After performing rituals for a while, he asked my cousin and I to go back first. This is also a custom in the village. When the elders are buried, relatives of another generation cannot be present.
After returning home, I looked at the mourning hall that had not yet been evacuated, and recalled the scene where my grandfather and I were shucking corn and chatting in the hall, and tears began to well up in my eyes.
Before I could shed tears, the villagers who came to help cook breakfast told me that we should not cry on the first day our ancestors were buried, otherwise they would stay in the house and be reluctant to leave.
I had no choice but to rub my eyes, hold back my tears, and sit on the terrace, watching the villagers coming in and out.
Logically speaking, the Eight Immortals and Mr. Dojo who carried the coffin should have returned at dawn, but they were nowhere to be seen until noon. The folks who came to help cook breakfast have left, and we are the third generation left in the family. No one knows what happened.
It wasn't until it was almost dark that there was a burst of chaotic footsteps outside the door. I knew it was them coming back.
But what I never expected was that not only the Eight Immortals and Mr. Dojo came back, but also my grandfather came back with them!
