Chapter 213: She is unchanging and immortal

As the village Party Secretary had hoped, the funeral was kept simple, with only a few relatives from the village and neighboring villages in attendance. Those who lived far away, even in other cities and provinces, did not return.

This resulted in the number of coffin bearers being reduced from the village's customary sixteen to eight. After piecing together eight men of different ages, heights, and strengths, they finally managed to gather one. However, that morning, the wife of one of the coffin bearers came to them and said that her husband had drunk too much the night before and was still vomiting in the house.

You can't let a drunkard carry the coffin, that would be too inappropriate. Xu Sirui stepped forward and said that he could take over. Liu Guifang asked about his zodiac sign and confirmed that there was no conflict with Zhu Dashan, so she let him go.

Liu Guifang accepted it quickly, but Zhu Yingning was worried. When he said he would come, her face looked like she was ready to send him to the battlefield. After confirming that his zodiac sign did not conflict and wearing a black cloth on his arm, she pulled him aside and whispered to him:

"Xu Sirui, you've never even carried a shoulder pole before. A coffin is much heavier than you think, seriously. The other coffin bearers have all done farm work before, so I'm really worried you might get hurt. Besides, after my grandmother's funeral today, it's my father's turn. We don't have a break in between, and both have to be finished by the morning. You're definitely not going to be able to handle carrying two coffins in a row."

Xu Sirui had to interrupt her nagging: "...How fragile am I in your eyes? Am I made of paper?"

"It's not made of paper, but..." She gestured at the thickness of his side, "Look, you're so thin."

He gestured at the other people's fat beer bellies and said, "It's as thick as the others."

Gesturing at his height, "You're this tall."

He gestured at the average height of the coffin bearers and said, "The rest of them are short and flat. This is too unbalanced. What if they lose their balance and fall?"

Xu Sirui couldn't help laughing at her descriptions of being flat and thick, and discussed it with her seriously, "Being tall is my advantage. The coffin will only tilt towards the shorter person, so shorter people are more likely to be crushed. Even if the coffin flips or slides, it will only crush the shorter person, not me."

She nodded in sudden realization: "That makes sense."

After realizing what was happening, she angrily punched him on the arm and said, "I'm really going to beat you to death. What's with all that talk of falling, sliding, and being crushed to death? Pah pah pah!"

After hammering him, he felt that this was not enough to ward off the prophecy, so he gently fanned his mouth with the back of his hand and repeated, "Pfft, pfft, pfft."

He was stunned by her slap. Finally, he saw her mumbling something. He listened carefully but couldn't hear what she was saying. So he asked curiously, "What are you talking about? How to do it?"

She rolled her eyes at him and said, "I'm begging my grandma and dad not to bother with you."

“…”

After all the noise and play, the funeral finally began. The little bit of relaxation that had accumulated from their chatting soon disappeared with the start of the funeral.

Xu Sirui did not stand with Zhu Yingning. After all, they had a different degree of closeness to the deceased. He paid attention to her condition and saw that she was still in a daze, with a blank look in her eyes, just mechanically following the instructions of the funeral team.

The village's funerals still retain many ancient customs, including the three bows and nine kowtows performed by filial sons and grandsons.

Over the past few years, Xu Sirui had attended several funerals of relatives, but none this grand, nor this quaint. Many funeral bands in the city had kept up with the times and were playing pop songs like "Lu Bing Hua," "A Heart Full of Gratitude," "Where Has the Time Gone," "Father," and "Mother." However, the songs here were traditional funeral songs sung in a dialect that Xu Sirui couldn't understand. But the melancholy, powerful melody, and the piercing feeling that pierced the sky were resonant, whether one understood them or not.

The funeral band's gongs and drums were beating loudly, rumbling in the ancestral hall. The relatives in mourning knelt down in unison to the music, like a heavy snowfall.

First bow: Kneel on both knees, stand upright, put your hands together in front of your chest, separate them, and place your palms facing down on the ground.

One kowtow, two kowtows, three kowtows.

Stand up and repeat the above steps until you complete the process of one bow and three kowtows, two bows and six kowtows, and three bows and nine kowtows.

As the memorial flag was raised, the memorial ceremony officially began.

Zhu Jixiang, being both the eldest grandson and the eldest son, had to smash a crude clay pot onto the ground. The crack was like a command to wail, and the female relatives burst into tears, their cries cascading and mournful. Liu Guifang, weeping, patted Zhu Yingning hard, reminding her: "Cry!"

Zhu Yingning tried hard for a while, but couldn't hold back the tears. Her heart felt as if a huge rock was pressing down on her. But she just couldn't hold back the tears. She could only say to her, "I can't cry..."

Liu Guifang cried with genuine emotion, her cheeks filled with hot tears. She was in no mood to care whether Zhu Yingning was crying or not. She threw herself on the coffin and wailed loudly: "Mom--" She cried so hard that she almost vomited and was about to slide to the ground. She was supported by other female relatives and did not collapse.

Zhu Yingning didn't know that she had such a deep affection for the old lady. It was also possible that she was not crying for the old lady, but for herself.

People have two chances to cry without restraint and not be blamed: one is when they are born, and the other is when they go to a funeral.

I cried so hard, so heart-wrenchingly, and without any image at all, but others would only praise me and say that I cried so well.

The soul-guiding banner led the way at the front of the procession, followed closely by Zhu Jixiang holding the portrait, and the pallbearers carrying the coffin followed by her, Liu Guifang and the rest of the old lady's immediate relatives, and the rest of the mourners from the same village and neighboring villages dotted behind them.

The procession was short, but it was mighty. Music blared, paper money was scattered along the route, and the smoke from the firecrackers slowly filled the valley.

The coffin is placed in the tomb, relatives circle the coffin to bid farewell, and the coffin is sealed and sprinkled with soil.

The funeral procession was repeated twice. Xu Sirui thought that Zhu Yingning had been right. After carrying two coffins, his shoulders were almost broken, and the burning pain turned into a numb feeling of weakness.

He wasn't completely acquainted with the old lady and Zhu Dashan, but they were casual acquaintances. If it weren't for Zhu Yingning, he wouldn't have known them at all, let alone cared about them.

But as the earth buried him, he suddenly sympathized with someone else's melancholy. Amidst the quiet funeral music, he witnessed with his own eyes the coffin he had touched sinking into the yellow sand and deep mountains.

Last time he was a bystander.

This time he was a participant.

The first time he came, he was only thinking about leaving. The second time, he wanted to take her away. The third time, he used Zhou Tianlan as an excuse. But this time, it seemed like he came for nothing, not to take anyone away, nor to bring anyone in. For the first time, he looked squarely at her hometown, the land that had nurtured her. He had once thought it was hopelessly foolish, but it had truly shaped her bones and soul.

The mountains are silent and noisy, devouring lives and spitting out bones.

From now on, dust returns to dust, ashes return to ashes.

The mountains carry everything, embrace everything, and allow right and wrong to pass through the mountains.

The mountain is there—

Unchanged for ten thousand years, immortal throughout the ages.

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Author's note: It doesn't seem very long, sorry...blame it on the adjustment!