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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 007: The Woman Who Hanged Herself
I suddenly felt overwhelmed with depression, helplessness, and despair—despair for life, despair for family ties. It was as if a magnetic force from another dimension was drawing me in; what was she trying to tell me? Damn it—was her spirit possessing me?
She was transmitting some kind of message to me, and that was why I felt infected by her emotions. I seemed to see the indifference of her son, the heartlessness of her daughter, and the brutality of her husband. She had no choice but to take this irreversible path. At least she could free herself from the torment of illness, no longer having to beg them to take her to the hospital for pain relief, nor kneeling on the ground pleading for a bottle of expensive medication.
No longer would she have to endure her daughter's disdain or ignore her son's painful disregard.
The woman stepped into the Tomb of marriage, and during her years in that Tomb, she changed—she became taciturn and withered away.
She could not survive by mere existence; she had no power to live but had the power to choose to give up her life. With all her strength, she grasped the rope and slowly made her way toward the empty room upstairs. Each step was a struggle; several times I wanted to reach out and help her, but it felt like a distant world, unable to stop the bizarre events unfolding before my eyes.
Step by step, she walked toward the realm of death, each step heavy as if lead weights were tied to her legs. After just a few steps, it felt laborious, as if her heart might burst from her chest.
Downstairs, there were sounds of laughter and joy.
Upstairs, it was desolate and mournful—a scene that brought tears to anyone who witnessed it.
The rope was the medium taking her to another world; it carried her essence. I could smell the scent of death emanating from it. I could feel her struggles before death, her despair, and those unfulfilled wishes.
Oh rope, be gentle.
The woman's pleas fell on deaf ears; she was too weak, almost lacking the strength to throw the rope over the beam beneath the roof ridge.
She was exhausted, collapsing onto the ground, leaning against the wall, gazing helplessly at the unreachable beam above.
I stepped forward and foolishly said to her, "Auntie, you must be strong; you can't just give up your life like this. Even staying in this world a little longer is better. If I had a mother, I wouldn't want her to do this..."
I cried. I truly cried; I could feel the warmth of tears sliding down my cheeks and tasted their salty flavor.
But she couldn't feel my presence.
At that moment, heavy footsteps approached from outside the door.
She looked toward the entrance in terror, her nerves on edge.
The door—could not block the brutality.
I saw the person who entered: Peng Caifu, with a pair of fierce eyes and a mouth full of yellowed teeth as he cursed.
"Dead woman, you want to die? I can help you."
I stared in disbelief as I watched Peng Caifu tie a rope to the beam, lift Wife, and shove her head into the noose before striding away.
"Gug... gug... ugh..." The woman kicked her legs desperately, trying to find something to support herself. Perhaps she had not prepared for suicide yet. Her cruel husband gave her a push; despite her greatest efforts, she could not break free from the rope's grip.
Tears streamed down my face, silently tracing my cheeks and flowing to the corners of my lips and neck.
Afterward, I helplessly gazed upward at the motionless feet hanging in the air. "Ma Qi... Ma Qi... Ma Qi..."
I cursed, crying as I did so: "What are you making noise about? If there's a debt, it has its owner; if you can't live well, why make it hard for others?"
Once I finished cursing, the noise in my ears faded away, and the image disappeared.
Yet I vaguely sensed someone approaching. Before I could focus my gaze, I heard a shout: "Ghost... ah..." Was it just one person? This person fled because I was holding a piece of rope in my hand.
This rope was used by the Hanging Woman to take her life.
I opened my eyes and turned on the light. She had indeed come to me in a dream, revealing everything that had happened. Should I—gritting my teeth, I decisively pulled out my phone.
He turned on his phone screen and saw the lamp that had fallen from the bedside table on the floor.
The lamp was still sturdy and hadn’t broken.
The door continued to sway, likely because Peng Hai had run out in fear.
Peng Hai was so frightened that he hadn’t shown his face until morning, while Peng Caifu looked like a completely different person, disheveled and resembling a Beggar.
Peng Yan had dark circles under her eyes and looked unwell. She seemed lifeless, like a wilted eggplant. Peng Hai had gone next door to sleep, while Peng Caifu didn’t seem bothered at all; he just walked off with his hands behind his back towards the outhouse.
After a night of chaos, it wasn’t just me who hadn’t rested well; their whole family seemed to be in a bad state.
Despite Peng Caifu being in such a situation, he still had the nerve to worry about whether Wife died at a good time or if her hanging would affect their descendants.
Enough was enough.
What kind of man was fit to have a family? And he had even fathered a pair of heartless brats.
I was young and hot-headed; I could hold my anger inside for now. If it were my grandfather, he would have certainly given him a good scolding.
I said, “If your Wife died at breakfast, then she left three meals for her descendants. If she died at noon, then sorry, there’s only one meal left, and your descendants will surely suffer…”
“That’s more like it; she…” The rest of Peng Caifu’s words trailed off as I turned coldly away from him. It was surprising he still had the audacity to go down.
Peng Caifu was stingy, repeatedly insisting on shortening the mourning period.
I needed to bring everything required before the burial.
The only downside was that I didn’t have any helpers and couldn’t disturb the Honor Guard.
The motorcycle was repaired by Peng Caifu. I rode it back to the city and then hired a flatbed truck to load the necessary wreaths and paper offerings. When I arrived at Peng Caifu's home, I asked him to give the driver a large red envelope.
The driver happily accepted the red envelope and left with many thanks.
There was no honor guard at the funeral; it was quiet, and not many people came to help. Among the relatives, someone collapsed in front of the deceased's portrait. Hearing Peng Yan call him uncle, he must have been the deceased's brother or younger sibling. There was also an elderly woman with white hair who trembled as she approached the portrait, tears streaming down her face, unable to make a sound.
Peng Hai called her grandmother.
The deceased was pitiful; while the old mother was still here, she had already taken her own path.
After crying enough, the maternal family cursed a few harsh words, refusing to eat despite Peng Caifu's attempts to stop them, and they left in anger.
The time for the funeral had come.
Those who came to help took away the wreaths. Filial piety knelt in front of the spirit hall, smashing a basin as part of the ritual.
This basin is called the Yin-Yang Basin, commonly referred to as the mourning basin in folk terms. The one who smashes it is usually the eldest son or grandson of the deceased; only close relatives can do this. After smashing the basin, filial piety cries out to send off the spirit, wishing for peace in the household.
Smashing the basin was Peng Hai's responsibility. He picked up the basin and smashed it hard—
There was no sound of crying. Peng Yan stood there with a stern face alongside her boyfriend, looking dazed.
"Hey, cry..."
Peng Yan was taken aback and hurriedly began to sob loudly, yet no tears fell.
Peng Caifu listened to advice and had long hidden away. The higher he climbed, the better; this is called avoiding mourning, fearing that it might disturb others.
With a single command, they lifted the coffin.
The Eight Great Warriors exerted their strength, but the coffin remained unmoved.
I sensed something was wrong and stepped forward, placing a yellow talisman on it, chanting, "Dead is dead, no turning back; only the Yellow Springs Road lies ahead. Only by letting go can one gain." I stamped my foot and shouted at the Eight Great Warriors, "Rise..."
"Rise..." After the resounding shout, the coffin floated lightly into the air.
When I first came to the Peng Family, those elderly guests whispered among themselves about my youth. Now they had to look at me with newfound respect, marveling at my abilities. They secretly expressed their admiration and then helped tidy up the items, preparing to burn them after the funeral.
The atmosphere was heavy and somber, a pity for the deceased's life that had been filled with misfortune, leaving without ever having lived a good day.
As we walked, Peng Yan never lifted her head nor shed a single tear.
The Eight Great Warriors took turns resting as we walked; the coffin could not touch the ground. We moved slowly, kneeling and paying our respects until we finally arrived at the Cemetery.
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