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墨書 Inktalez
When a family in our village built a tiled house and reached the completion stage, there was an important ceremony known as the Distributing Celebration Buns. At that time, rural areas were generally poor, and a family building a tiled house would certainly attract attention from neighbors. On the day of the roof completion—what we called "The tiles are laid; the house is complete"—people of all ages would gather early to wait for the celebration buns.
Once the last tile was laid, the male head of the household would come over carrying a basket covered with red cloth. Inside the basket were small white buns dyed with red spots, totaling seventy-two, with two larger buns among them. The Contractor would solemnly take the basket and climb up to the roof.
Friends from the south mentioned that in Jiangsu Rugao, there was also a tradition of saying auspicious words during the beam-raising ceremony. The Master Carpenter, Da Jiang, would climb up the ladder while striking his axe and reciting good wishes: "With each strike of the axe, may happiness abound! Today, the Host Family builds their Hua Tang; may it prosper on Longkou, as everyone comes together for this occasion."
In our area, we did not have such elaborate customs. However, when the basket of buns made its appearance, it marked the climax of the event. Once on the roof, the Contractor would announce loudly, "The auspicious time has arrived! Light the firecrackers and start distributing the buns!" Following this announcement, someone would ignite red firecrackers. As they crackled and popped, the person in charge of distributing the celebration buns would sit on the ridge of the roof, using one hand to hold the basket and with the other hand tossing buns into the crowd like scattering flowers. Some buns would land on heads, others on shoulders, and some even hit faces.
When the firecrackers ceased and bun distribution ended, the distributor would turn the basket upside down to show that they had not kept any buns for themselves. Even though Hu Ruoyun's family built a flat-roofed house, they still followed this ceremony but added a twist by including a large bag of fruit candies along with the seventy-two celebration buns, marking a reform in this tradition.
Another memorable ceremony associated with new houses from my childhood was Burying the Oil Lamp. When a new house was completed but before the ground was hardened, it was customary to bury oil lamps at each corner of the house and in its center. These lamps were made from sticky millet dough shaped like candles and could be filled with a little oil and a wick.
The entire ritual involved digging holes at each corner of the new house and at its entrance. We would go to a temple to collect some soil and carry it back while reciting: "Borrowing Your Land, returning your soil; Borrow One Zhang, returning Five Zhang..." Upon returning home, we would light five oil lamps and place them into their respective holes. After lighting incense and offering sacrifices, five people would simultaneously bury the lamps using any remaining soil.
This entire ceremony was known as giving thanks to the earth god. It acknowledged that since heaven and earth are vast, building a house first requires breaking ground. This ritual expressed gratitude for divine protection over successful construction.
The phrase "Borrowing Your Land" signifies that borrowing should be repaid; borrowing one zhang while returning one and a half zhang illustrates honesty and sincere gratitude while praying for blessings upon moving into a new home.
Speaking of building houses brings to mind another related custom: if a family built a new house but did not immediately move in, they would place a pair of shoes worn by a man inside. Elders believed that an empty house could attract supernatural creatures; placing shoes inside indicated that someone lived there to deter any disturbances.
There is also a related legend: when Fourth Brother's family completed their new house and went out to work elsewhere, their son stayed with his grandparents. After finishing plastering in their new home, it remained empty because they hurriedly left without placing any men's shoes inside.
At the end of the year, I returned home to celebrate the New Year, bringing my son Huan Huan from my grandparents' house to our new home.
On the first night, we couldn't sleep peacefully. Even though all three of us were in bed, I kept hearing footsteps in the living room and the sound of furniture being moved around. When I turned on the light to check, there was nothing there. This went on for several days, leaving us all exhausted with dark circles under our eyes and feeling drained.
When I mentioned this to the elders in the family, they were alarmed. They suggested that our house must have been occupied by some supernatural being that was now causing disturbances. So, we invited a "master" to perform a ritual, reaffirming our "ownership" of the house and offering incense and paper offerings, pleading for the spirits to find another place.
There are still some customs that persist today. For instance, it is acceptable to eat in the "front door" area (the spot directly facing the entrance of the living room), but one should never sleep there. When I was a child during hot summers, people in the village would often sleep on mats laid out on the ground with their doors open for ventilation. However, sleeping in the "front door" area is believed to disrupt the passage of unseen spirits and deities.
If someone disregards these rules and sleeps in that area, they might experience "ghost pressing," where they feel awake but unable to move or speak. Therefore, older family members would always warn us during summer: "Don't sleep in the front door!"
Decades have passed, and many people no longer adhere to these "rules," and I haven't heard any recent stories related to such legends.
Back to the topic at hand. Hu Qihua and Zhao Meirong followed the customs meticulously while building their new house, but there was a change during the "raising of the beam" ceremony. Traditionally, a red cloth would be tied around a large wooden beam, but how could they do that with a steel-reinforced concrete structure?
In the end, Second Master Kuei came up with an idea: they would use red paper instead! They bought red paper and asked Teacher Shao to write with a brush:
"The foundation is solid as rock,
The beams are forged from steel;
The pillars support a prosperous home,
Bringing endless fortune like sun and moon;
Joy surrounds like endless delight,
Spring fills the courtyard with a thousand blooms."
The head of the family, Hu Qihua, carefully affixed it to the concrete beam.
There are also some beliefs regarding planting trees in the yard. The most typical saying is: "Do not plant mulberries in front or willows behind; do not plant 'ghost clappers' in the yard!"
The elders say that mulberries sound like "mourning," so planting them in front of the house is considered very unlucky. Willows are associated with yin, attracting "unclean things." Another belief is that willows do not bear seeds; planting them behind the house is thought to be detrimental for descendants. Additionally, "willow" sounds like "slip," so planting willows may cause wealth to slip away.
"Ghost clappers" refer to poplar trees. The leaves of poplars resemble hands and make a rustling sound when blown by the wind, especially eerie on stormy nights, resembling ghostly applause—quite frightening indeed.
I’m not sure if these taboos hold any truth, but in our hometown, many still observe them closely. Poplars grow quickly and are commonly planted in fields or open spaces in villages but rarely found in yards; willows are similarly treated.
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