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墨書 Inktalez
In the following days, there were business matters to attend to every day. The Funeral Parlor on the first floor housed the deceased, with family members keeping vigil through the night, some crying. Sister Hong also stayed in the shop, but I no longer heard "that" crying sound.
The day after I called her, Sister Hong didn’t blame me for disturbing her in the middle of the night. I didn’t dare mention hearing someone cry; I thought a woman like her might be frightened by such things.
Since I started keeping a journal, I felt I had a certain "ability." When I was very young and got up at night to use the bathroom, I often saw strange strangers smiling at me in the room—men in long robes and women in black jackets.
In the morning, I would tell my grandmother about it, and she would scold me for making things up. But when I vividly described the appearances and attire of those people, her expression changed. She scolded me sharply, "Shut your mouth!"
She forbade me from speaking further and took incense and paper offerings to burn before our ancestors' tablets, praying fervently, "Ancestors, this child is young. If he has offended you in any way, please do not hold it against him! If you lack anything on that side, just let me know in a dream. Whether it's a house, food, servants, or silver and gold... I'll burn it for you... Please don’t scare him!" Then she knelt down and bowed her head repeatedly as she prayed.
I didn’t understand but listened to my grandmother and obediently knelt there, bowing my head and offering incense.
Sometimes at night while sleeping, it felt like "something" was close by. Although I didn’t open my eyes or see anything, as long as I silently recited "Namo Amitabha Buddha," everything would soon settle down.
There were also times when events that happened during the day seemed familiar because I might have dreamed about them beforehand. I was certain and assured that I wasn’t making things up.
At my age now, one should have some sense of reverence, but I was different; I didn’t know what fear was and wasn’t afraid of being "confronted" by anything unclean. Perhaps this was what people meant by "the ignorant are fearless."
I had seen natural deaths; aside from not breathing or moving and having a grayish-white complexion, they looked much like living people.
I had also seen suicides by hanging; their necks were deeply indented where they had been strangled, eyes bulging out, tongues protruding from their lips... but to me, they were merely unsightly.
I had witnessed mining accidents where two coal miners were crushed to death; they were brought over wrapped in burlap sacks by their coworkers. If you didn’t "unpack" them to look inside, it was just a bloody mess of flesh with no discernible features.
Brother Biao vomited at the sight, but I felt nothing. Together with Sister Hong, we carefully "unpacked" the two bodies—what needed mending was mended, what needed padding was padded, what needed stitching was stitched. We cleaned all their bloodstains with alcohol wipes until they were spotless. After tidying them up, we dressed them in brand new Zhongshan Suits... In the end, while they couldn’t be said to look lifelike, they were enough to leave their family members and coworkers in awe.
The team leader who went down into the mine knelt before Sister Hong and me on the spot: "You’ve sent these two brothers off so well; it makes me feel much better!" His head thudded against the ground repeatedly.
The family members dressed in mourning clothes also knelt down beside him.
What did that feeling feel like? To me, it felt like affirmation, trust, and gratitude—something that couldn’t be measured with money.
Sister Hong and I helped everyone back up from the ground; her eyes were also glistening with moisture.
That night as I slept lightly, I suddenly noticed two figures standing at my bedside. They were both dressed in brand new Zhongshan Suits. There was an unfamiliar familiarity about them; they didn’t speak but simply clasped their fists together in salute and bowed to me.
The next day, I asked Sister Hong if she had dreamed anything during the night. She spat dismissively at me: "You little brat, what are you thinking?"
After handling this funeral service, Sister Hong began paying special attention to me.
In the past, I would stand there while she explained things, but now she leans in to talk to me. This must be a form of affirmation, right?
That day, she called me to her third-floor space, which housed her resting area and studio; I assumed it also included her bedroom.
"Sister Hong" had me sit at her desk. "Sit down, Xiao Lin. I have something I want to discuss with you."
I hesitated. "It's fine; I'll just stand."
The room was filled with a feminine aura that made me feel restless and uneasy.
"Sister Hong" sat down and leaned forward, asking me, "Besides medicine, what else can you do?"
Her neckline was quite low, and standing there allowed me to catch a glimpse of two soft curves and a deep valley. I swallowed hard and forced my gaze back to "Sister Hong's" face. "Traditional Chinese medicine is a family tradition. I'm not very good at it, but my grandfather taught me to identify herbs when I was four. By five, I could recite 'Tang Tou Ge.' As soon as I started elementary school and learned to read, I studied the thread-bound 'Huang Di Nei Jing,' 'Treatise on Typhoid and Miscellaneous Diseases,' 'Shen Nong Ben Cao Jing,' as well as 'Lingshu,' 'Suwen,' and 'Pulse Classic'...
I began practicing horse stance with my grandfather at two years old, trained my breathing at three, ran with sandbags tied to my legs, dug a sandpit in the yard to jump out of, hit a sandbag, and practiced on plum blossom poles..."
Upon hearing this, "Sister Hong" looked intrigued. "I didn't expect you to be such a versatile little kid! Are you skilled in martial arts?"
"I don't know; I've never fought anyone," I answered honestly, my eyes inadvertently drawn back to the enticing view within her neckline.
She asked again, "Are you eighteen by your actual age or lunar age?"
I thought for a moment. "My grandmother says I was born on the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month. In just over a month, I'll turn eighteen."
"Sister Hong" paused for a moment. "Your grandmother said? What about your mother?"
I forced a smile, feeling bitter. "My grandmother says I'm fated to be strong; I caused my mother's death during childbirth... she bled heavily that day..."
A glimmer flashed in "Sister Hong's" eyes before she changed the subject. "Are you adapting well here? Do you have any other plans?"
I looked down as I replied, "My grandfather says I'm still young and shouldn't run around recklessly..."
"Sister Hong" smiled sweetly at me, making me feel like spring had arrived. She pulled an envelope from her drawer and handed it to me. "Boss Chen is transferring this shop to me... You keep this; now go ahead with your work."
Inside the envelope were five thousand yuan—equivalent to one and a half months' salary for me. It gave me a sense of loyalty akin to “a soldier would die for his confidant.”
—What do you think? Does "Sister Hong" seem like she wants to take advantage of me?
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