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Return of the Offering
墨書 Inktalez
When I was a child, during the festive season, my grandfather cooked a pot of sheep's head meat. An old, filthy beggar woman came to our house asking for food. She gazed at the pot of sheep's head meat and said, "What a pity you arrived too late; you have ultimately been slaughtered."
My grandfather looked puzzled and asked the dirty old woman, "What do you mean by that?"
The beggar woman sighed deeply and replied, "Old man, this sheep killed you in its past life, and now it has come to repay its debt. It has settled its dues, and I am here to collect the remains."
After she spoke, the beggar woman took a piece of silver jewelry from her tattered clothing and handed it to my grandfather. "Old man, hurry and take the meat out of the pot; I need to take it away."
Just as she finished speaking, the gate to our yard was pushed open, and my grandmother returned carrying two bundles of wet firewood.
She placed the firewood on the ground and scrutinized the filthy old woman before saying, "Where did this dirty beggar come from? Get lost!"
As my grandmother was about to chase the beggar woman away, my grandfather stepped in front of her and placed the silver jewelry in my grandmother's hand. He then relayed what the beggar woman had just said.
My grandmother bit down on the silver piece with her teeth, her eyes suddenly widening. The silver looked heavy like a pebble.
She put the silver into her pocket and then asked the beggar woman, "Is this silver stolen?"
The beggar woman was taken aback for a few seconds but then broke into a smile. "Old lady, this silver does not belong to me; it belongs to her."
She pointed at the sheep meat in the pot, which smelled delicious.
The beggar woman added, "I am only here to help collect the remains."
My grandmother snorted coldly and said with a harsh tone, "You’re talking nonsense! Does a sheep need you to collect its remains? If you don’t leave now, I’ll break your legs!"
Just as my grandmother was about to act on her threat, the beggar woman widened her brown eyes and stepped back repeatedly.
She ran to the gate and shouted at my grandmother, "Since you accepted this silver, the task of collecting remains falls on you. If there is no complete corpse within three days, your retribution will come upon you."
After saying this, the filthy old woman hurried away.
My grandfather frowned and murmured, "Old lady, I can't shake off the feeling that what that beggar woman said wasn't a lie."
My grandmother shot him an annoyed glance and replied, "A stinky beggar just wants to trick us into giving her food; she's spouting nonsense! This sheep has been raised for two years; we kept forty pounds of meat and saved its entrails. The remaining two hundred pounds have already been sold; they’re likely in someone else's stomach by now. Where are we supposed to find a complete corpse? Don’t listen to that filthy beggar's ramblings!"
She scooped out the sheep's head meat from the pot and placed it into an aluminum basin before retrieving the entrails from storage to continue cooking.
Seeing my grandfather’s conflicted expression, my grandmother said, "Don't overthink it; we have so much left to do with just two days until the festival."
No sooner had she finished speaking than someone entered our yard. Uncle Li appeared anxious and shouted loudly, "Something's wrong! Big trouble! Zhou Laolian is dead!"
Zhou Laolian lived at the east end of the village and was about my grandmother's age. A few days ago when we slaughtered the sheep, she had come over to buy five pounds of meat, saying she would make dumplings with her daughter and son-in-law when they returned home.
My grandmother asked, "How did she die?"
Uncle Li shook his head, "It's unclear; everyone in the village went to see."
Our village isn't large, with fewer than two hundred households, so a death like this is a significant event.
We made our way to Aunt Lian's house, and by the time we arrived, the yard was already crowded with people.
My grandmother and I squeezed inside. There was a table with some garlic paste, half a bottle of fruit wine, and a small bowl containing two pieces of lamb, the kind with a mix of fat and lean meat.
Aunt Lian was slumped against the wall, her mouth slightly open, and she had already lost her breath.
The young girls in the village whispered, "Aunt Lian can't close her mouth; she must have something to say."
My grandmother stared at Aunt Lian's mouth for a moment; the corners were glistening with grease, as if she had just finished eating before passing away.
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