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墨書 Inktalez
Brother Biao was a rough character, two years older than me and had come here a year earlier. He hadn’t even finished high school, and although he was a bit burly, he had a good nature. There was one thing he was afraid of: "ghosts."
Wangji Funeral Company's Chen Linran originally worked in rural areas handling everything related to funerals. Later, he heard that the previous owner here had been driven out by competitors and came to take a look. In the end, he bought the place for three million.
After Boss Chen took over, he changed the sign and reprocessed the paperwork. He hired a few newcomers but kept all the existing staff—supervisors, embalmers, hosts, makeup artists—except for Uncle Zhang, who was let go from his position as the night watchman on the first floor. The old man lost an income of 2,500 yuan a month and felt quite displeased. During the handover, he warned Brother Biao: “Kid, if you hear any noises or see anything while you're here alone at night, don’t be scared… After a while, once ‘they’ get to know you, it’ll be fine…”
Brother Biao had lived in that small room in the staff lounge for nearly a year, always on edge at night. After I arrived, he moved out to rent a place of his own. We were of similar age and had more common ground to talk about; my “return” made Brother Biao very happy.
I decided to treat Brother Biao to a meal since we had no work today. As evening approached and everyone finished their shifts, Brother Biao and I went to the barbecue restaurant across the street. We ordered a pile of lamb skewers and other dishes along with more than ten bottles of beer.
While munching on skewers, Brother Biao said with a grin, “With our relationship, you don’t need to spend so much.”
I told him about how Mr. Zhao’s driver had given me an extra twenty thousand yuan. Brother Biao’s eyes lit up: “Then I’ll eat more!”
As we were parting ways, Brother Biao leaned in and asked me, “You haven’t ‘encountered’ anything strange while staying at the shop at night, have you?”
I casually took a sip of beer and replied, “There’s a mouse nest in the small kitchen on the first floor that squeaks every night. I just blocked it up.”
Brother Biao downed another cup of beer: “Damn it! That’s cost me an extra two hundred yuan in rent this month.”
That day, the phone at Wangji Funeral Company rang. The caller was from a family in Xishan Villa District, saying their elderly mother was unwell and requested someone from Wangji Funeral Company to come over and make arrangements in their yard.
Following our supervisor Uncle Ming, Brother Biao and I took the vehicle for transporting the Spirit Pavilion.
It was the same routine: while setting up the Spirit Pavilion, we dressed the deceased in their Funeral Garment, placed “money for the afterlife” in their hands, stuffed paper money ashes into their arms as “toll money” for little ghosts, and had the eldest son assist with placing them in the coffin while children cleaned their face and arranged for mourners to burn paper offerings and keep vigil… In the past, we needed to refill oil for eternal lamps; now they were replaced with electronic candles, so that task was no longer necessary.
The family would keep vigil for three days; things got busiest on the afternoon of the second day.
While following Visitor and some friends from the family who were helping out, we ate “mixed dishes” (if not served at a restaurant, previous meals were prepared by specialized chefs making large pots of mixed vegetables: cabbage, pork, vermicelli, tofu… cooked together over high heat with plenty of oil; despite its simple preparation method, it tasted exceptional—dozens or even hundreds of tables would be set up for meals on the day of burial and the night before).
As Brother Biao and I were slurping our food from large bowls, someone suddenly patted my shoulder. Turning around, I saw it was Deputy Director Jiang's father smiling at him: “I could see it was you from far away.”
Noticing that he held a bowl just like mine, I couldn’t help but ask: “Old man, why are you eating this too?”
He glared at me: “When I was young and my family was poor, I loved nothing more than tagging along whenever someone held a big red funeral to get my share of hearty stew. Now that I'm older, I still enjoy this kind of food…”
Seeing me staring at his bowl intently, he added seriously: “I remember your advice; I’m avoiding fatty meat and such.”
He lifted his shirt to show me his belly and said, "Look, there's nothing left."
I couldn't help but laugh and said, "Alright, old man, pull your pants up."
But the old man wouldn't leave. "Let me tell you something. My granddaughter is studying at a medical university in Beijing, focusing on Traditional Chinese Medicine. I told her my illness is cured, but she doesn't believe it at all. She's coming back for summer vacation soon and wants me to arrange a sparring session with you.
This girl is quite proud; she's just half-baked knowledge. You must show her who's boss!"
I laughed at him in confusion, "Why are you pushing your elbow outward?"
The old man scoffed, "If she can really cure my illness, I'll respect her. We help reason, not family; just talking big doesn't count."
This old man really has a way of speaking about his own granddaughter.
This old man really wants to "arrange a fight" for his granddaughter.
The boss mentioned that the main purpose of the "business" was significant and repeatedly reminded us to be attentive and cautious.
Brother Biao and I also became more careful; there were many people coming to pay their respects or take advantage of the situation, including some social types like "big brothers": with tattoos of Ribbonfish and Peanut Shrimp on their bare arms. These people didn't dare to act against the guests but were critical of our Funeral Home's musicians.
In the music group, there was a young wife of a Sheng Holder who performed with her husband and brother-in-law. A bald "big brother" often approached her, making flirtatious remarks: "Sister, why don't you play a little something for us... After we're done, come have a drink with me?"
Her husband wasn't pleased: "Hey, big brother, we're here for a funeral; asking us to play 'something' is a bit much..."
The bald man frowned: "I gave you face; say another word and I'll deal with you!"
The oldest man in the music group stepped forward: "Brother, he's young; don't take it to heart. This is their event; after it's over, we'll make amends with you."
The bald man leered at the Sheng Holder's young wife: "Just let her come find me alone..."
Seeing my expression change, Brother Biao tried to stop me but could only watch as I strode over.
No one noticed as a tiny silver needle flew from my hand and pierced the bald man's Dazhui Acupoint, causing him to roll his eyes back and collapse limply.
I feigned concern as I approached to check on him while secretly retrieving the needle and loudly said, "Big brother, in such an occasion, please refrain from saying 'something'; the spirit of the deceased will be displeased..."
Many people gathered around; knowing I worked in funerals, they looked at the bald man with disdain after hearing my words.
The person in charge came out and instructed them to take the bald man away.
The world is vast; there are all kinds of people.
Brother Biao said to me, "Why do you meddle in other people's business? We can't afford to provoke those people."
Seeing Fat Boss Chen Senran approaching, I swallowed my words.
Brother Biao is a good brother.
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