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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 146: Ghost Month Taboos (Part Twenty-Six)
Uncle Zhang is dead.
He regretted not passing on his suona skills to a disciple before he died, as he had no suitable candidates. I saw Mi and the survivors of the Blacklist sitting safely within the Bagua Formation.
Bai Guang stood before Mi and the others, her form softened by their chanting. She transformed into a human shape, her face resembling that of a beautiful doll, adorned with an innocent smile. At last, she forgave those who had inadvertently harmed her in the past.
Li Gui ultimately did not appear. I could never understand whether Li Gui was afraid of Qin Ye, too busy to show up, or perhaps we concluded the battle on Cobblestone Street before he had the chance to arrive.
The Evil Spirit in the Dao Bottle will be sent to a certain place once Uncle Zhang's affairs are settled.
That place is a well-preserved City God Temple in the East Suburb, a necessary passage to the Underworld. Leaving the Dao Bottle there will ensure that someone comes to retrieve it.
I feel guilty about Uncle Zhang's death.
I can hardly face his family. If it weren't for Uncle Zhang's prior arrangements for his family, I believe his funeral would not involve me after his passing.
During the days of Ghost Month, incidents kept occurring.
With the Ghost Festival Fifteenth approaching, it was better to act than wait; we decided to bury Uncle Zhang on the sixth day of Ghost Month.
After Uncle Zhang's funeral, it would be Chiang's turn.
It was a rare sunny day; the sky was unpredictable yet brilliantly blue, everything seemed so beautiful.
But Uncle Zhang would never return.
In the mourning hall, relatives displayed a range of expressions—some were sorrowful, some calm, others indifferent, while a few were busy calling out to children. As it was the transition from late summer to autumn, the midday heat still lingered, so the Zhang family did not wear traditional mourning attire but instead opted for the contemporary practice of wearing black armbands as a sign of grief.
The filial piety members wore white armbands, while friends and relatives donned black ones. Fat Yi was busy with the task of making paper figurines, and several children eagerly tried to touch them but were scared off by his playful grimaces.
Uncle Zhang's family had an old dog that looked weak and sickly. It wandered among the crowd, and when it grew tired, it lay down beside Uncle Zhang's coffin, its limbs stretched out and its head resting between its front paws, half-closed eyes drifting into sleep.
Most of the women helping out were neighbors from outside the family. They huddled together, chattering away. One woman peeling potatoes suddenly noticed the old dog and whispered, "Look at that dog; it was brought back by Zhang Suona. Doesn’t it look like it's crying?"
"It does look a bit like that."
"I also think something's off with that dog; it has such a sorrowful expression," someone chimed in.
"Do dogs even have expressions? How can you tell?" another questioned.
"Of course they do! I’ve seen pictures online; cats have the most expressive faces," a young woman selecting vegetables replied loudly, as if trying to prove her superiority in knowledge about internet images.
"You've been on there?"
The vegetable-sorting woman put down her work, looking mysterious before bursting into laughter. "It was my daughter who showed me."
"Wow!"
"What’s so great about it? The kid teaches me; I don’t want to learn," another woman with short hair and a few gray strands scoffed.
"Sister Hua, you should learn! Go charm one of those guys online and make your drunk husband mad."
Sister Hua laughed heartily but then suddenly realized this wasn’t an appropriate time for jokes since the host family was mourning. She quickly restrained her laughter and said, "Enough joking around; let’s get back to work."
It was evident that Sister Hua held a high status among the women present and was the leader in assisting with the funeral arrangements. When she stopped speaking, no one dared to utter another word.
Under the watchful eyes of several close relatives, I calculated the burial time for Uncle Zhang and determined the location of his grave. Uncle Zhang had plenty of land; he was not one to sit idle. Besides playing the suona, he often took it upon himself to cultivate many patches of wasteland despite any objections.
I examined one of the plots he had cleared; it was a good piece of land with excellent feng shui, nestled between mountains and water. From a Feng Shui perspective, water symbolizes wealth. It represents vitality and can ensure that the deceased blesses their descendants with abundant fortune. Of course, this also depends on personal belief—those who believe will find it true, while those who do not will find it false.
Feeling guilty towards Uncle Zhang, I scrutinized his Yin House with great care, hoping it would provide protection for three generations, ensuring they would live peacefully without misfortune.
The relatives from the Zhang family still respected me, but only Zhang's Son treated me poorly. When he saw that no one was around, he said, "Sparrow, I need to ask you something." I set aside what I was doing and noticed his dull eyes suddenly sparkled with intensity.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It's about—" He stepped closer and lowered his voice as if sharing a deep secret. "After someone dies, do they really have a soul?"
"Those who believe will find it true; those who do not will find it false."
"Is that so?" The mysterious glint in his eyes faded, replaced by a cold expression filled with hatred. He spoke through gritted teeth, "Sparrow, your life was bought with my father's sacrifice. If it weren't for his last wishes, you wouldn't dare show your face in front of me. If you don't handle this matter well, I won't let you off easily."
Despite his loud words, someone overheard him. "Hanzi, don't say that," his wife interjected hurriedly to stop him. Following her were a pair of Dragon and Phoenix Twins, standing as tall as their mother's waist with red-rimmed eyes that suggested they had been crying. Uncle Zhang had doted on these precious grandchildren; after his passing, they wept inconsolably throughout the night, calling for their grandfather.
Hanzi was a nickname for Uncle Zhang's son; when people listened to him speak, he appeared foolishly enamored as he gazed at young women with a silly grin. Over time, after Uncle Zhang built bridges and roads and did many good deeds, his son gradually improved.
The conditions of Uncle Zhang's family were not very good; they lived in a state of barely getting by—neither cold nor hungry.
Hanzi's wife had been brought to him by Uncle Zhang after a widow passed away without funds for burial. Uncle Zhang took Hanzi along to perform filial piety by burying the widow. The widow and her daughter were city folk but had fallen into hardship due to her husband's illness and debts. They had hoped that once their daughter grew up and married a wealthy man, their lives would improve.
However, unexpectedly, Hanzi fell for the widow's daughter during their visit to her home and repeatedly asked Uncle Zhang to speak favorably on his behalf. But Uncle Zhang was a rural man with limited means, and the widow was unwilling to agree.
Unexpectedly, the widow fell ill and ultimately passed away.
Uncle Zhang took Hanzi to handle the widow's funeral arrangements, which moved her daughter.
The widow's daughter eventually became Hanzi's wife. Uncle Zhang devoted all his resources to help pay off debts, and it was only recently that they were cleared.
This daughter-in-law was a good one, with a prosperous aura. Not long after, Hanzi found a good job. The family's finances improved, and it seemed that Uncle Zhang was about to enjoy a comfortable life. However, little did they know that he would be dragged down by me, as the Evil Spirit attacked him, leading to his demise.
"I'm sorry, sister-in-law."
"Sigh, just give my father-in-law a proper burial and don't hold it against Hanzi," Hanzi's Wife said in a crisp voice, as pleasant as Mi and Zhou Mengyao's voices.
As for Mi and Zhou Mengyao, there hasn't been much news about Chi Xinrong lately. I was busy with Uncle Zhang's funeral arrangements and asked Mi to inquire about the situation, but we still didn't know what was going on.
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