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墨書 Inktalez
In Jiangcheng, if you randomly interview people on the street about who is the wealthiest in the city, there may be various answers, but it will likely point in one direction: the residents displaced by the demolition of Urban Villages.
In the northern part of the city, Little Hong Kong, a small village houses nearly 300,000 migrants, while our Wenyuan County has a total population of just over 400,000. This highlights the stark contrast between urban and rural areas.
I don't know when it started, but people from the nearby rural areas began to come to our Funeral Home to bid farewell to their deceased relatives. Some genuinely had money, while others were compelled by circumstances: everyone else was doing it, and if you didn’t follow suit, you would be looked down upon.
After all this buildup, I want to share a story. One day, an elderly man was brought to our Funeral Home by a couple accompanied by their village's Manager. They said the deceased was their father. From the Manager, we learned that Elder Wu lived on the back street of their village. He was old and deaf, not to mention his poor personal hygiene.
Eldest Son Wu Ren and Youngest Son Wu Yi were both "Wife-Controlled," afraid of their wives, and dared not take their father to live with them. Elder Wu's eyesight was failing, and his hands and feet were unsteady. The meals he prepared were often undercooked or burnt, making life increasingly difficult for him.
When neighbors hadn’t seen Elder Wu for three days, they called out to Wu Ren and Wu Yi: "Your father hasn’t been out for three days; you should go check on him!" The two brothers pried open their father's door and found him lying on a hard bed, covered with a thin quilt—he had long since passed away.
Regardless of how they treated him in life, the funeral arrangements had to be handled properly after his death. The two daughters-in-law busily tore up mourning clothes while secretly feeling relieved: "The old man should have left long ago... now it's finally over!"
I don’t know when it became fashionable to send off the elderly at Funeral Homes. The two daughters-in-law were reluctant to spend money but feared public opinion even more, so they begrudgingly brought their father-in-law to us.
"Choose the cheapest Funeral Garment!" said the eldest daughter-in-law.
"Use the cheapest Shroud too!" added the youngest daughter-in-law.
When it came time to change the Funeral Garment, no one stepped forward. Sister Hong couldn’t bear it any longer and instructed me and Brother Jun: "You help them change; I’ll make sure they pay for this when we settle up."
As we removed the old clothes from Elder Wu’s body, they were not only dirty but also torn and reeked of a strong odor—whether from him or the clothes was unclear.
According to custom, these clothes were supposed to be burned. As the Manager uncle was about to toss them into the fire pit, he suddenly felt something hard in one pocket. Reaching in, he pulled out a dark red savings book. Upon opening it, he found a balance of over twenty-nine thousand!
The two daughters-in-law burst into laughter: "This is great! Now we have money for the funeral expenses!"
Before Elder Wu was even buried, they couldn’t wait any longer. They disregarded what was happening here and headed straight to the nearest Post Office Savings Bank, eager to withdraw the money and divide it among themselves.
They also dragged The Manager Uncle to act as an Intermediary.
The two women both wanted to hold the passbook, but neither agreed to let go. In the end, they decided that The Manager Uncle would be the "Intermediary," which thoroughly annoyed him.
An employee at the Post Office Savings Bank glanced at the passbook, swiped it through the machine, and said to the two women, "Enter your password!"
Who knows what the password is?
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