13
"You don't have to go out later, just wait in the car." Old man Liao said. His voice was intermittent amid the sound of music. Zhuang Xiaodie nodded hurriedly, and Old man Liao got out of the car. Just then, a man ran over to talk to him. The man had a black cloth on his sleeve and handed him a cigarette. The two of them lit cigarettes and walked towards the makeshift shed. The sound was swallowed by the funeral music, and Zhuang Xiaodie didn't hear a word. It was still early, a little after six o'clock, and the sky was a little overcast. From a distance, you can see several circles of people gathered around the shed, some smoking and talking, some silently wiping tears, and some standing aside in silence.
There's nothing much to say about this job. You just have to get up early, wait at the place, and when the time comes, load the coffin and drive away.
Old Man Liao had asked her before if she had ever seen a dead person, and she had. The first time was in elementary school, when her great-grandmother passed away. She didn't remember much. It was winter, and after a night of rain, the ground was still wet, and the sky was heavy. The house was packed with people, and then they spilled into the yard. They first knelt and bowed, then followed a car to the funeral home. Parents led them into a room, where each person grabbed a handful of rice and scattered it toward the deceased before leaving. Her great-grandmother's skin, always very pale, was strangely pale at that moment, and her mouth was open. She thought she was going to toss the rice into her mouth, so she lifted it high. She didn't remember whether she actually did.
Later, she would wonder from time to time, why is the mouth open?
The adults were silent then, rarely speaking to each other or even looking at each other. She looked left and right, feeling the darkness of the place. After a long wait, everyone formed a small square, standing silently. Then, something clicked, and all the adults dropped their heads, motionless. She looked left and right, and suddenly, she saw her grandfather burst into tears. It was the first time she'd seen him like that. At the time, she couldn't comprehend death, cremation, or what a funeral home even was. Seeing her grandfather's tears, she felt it was too much to look at, and quickly averted her gaze. For as long as she could remember, her great-grandmother had stayed alone in her room, rarely emerging. She only stopped by the doorway to greet people. Later, while getting up to use the restroom, she fell and broke her leg.
The hall they were standing in was empty and silent. Seeing Grandpa like that, she looked around. No one else was crying. She tried to stand straight, but then quickly lowered her head, bewildered. She didn't know if she should cry too. No one had taught her, but it was as if the adults had agreed. She stared blankly at the tiles before her. They should have been pristine white, but the trampling of people had left a gray film on them. Beyond that, there was nothing.
She also forgot how she left later.
Now, sitting in the car, Zhuang Xiaodie suddenly felt like smoking. She wanted to jump out and ask Old Man Liao for a cigarette, even though she had never smoked before. She had always considered it a bad habit, and the sight of smoking immediately associated it with blackened lungs.
Just as she was about to open the car door, Old Man Liao suddenly appeared in the rearview mirror and gestured for Zhuang Xiaodie to move the car back a bit, which she did. Then the trunk door opened, and several people carried a heavy rectangular body up. Someone asked who would accompany them, but someone simply said, "Just follow behind," and the door quickly closed.
No need for navigation; someone would lead the way. Zhuang Xiaodie only had to follow. Old Man Liao put out his cigarette before getting in. Neither of them spoke. They were outsiders to this incident, watching the widows bustle about, organizing the vehicles and guiding the way. The last suona sound ended, and the surroundings suddenly fell back into silence. Some people, oblivious to the incident, continued to speak loudly, making Zhuang Xiaodie's head buzz and her fingertips cold, as if it were winter, even though it was early summer, the windows were open, and the air conditioning was off.
A man walked to the driver's seat and knocked on the window, telling her to follow a black car. He pointed it out to her and told her the license plate number. She nodded repeatedly, not even remembering whether the other person was a man or a woman.
Then they were on their way. They arrived at the funeral home before the morning rush hour, and everything went smoothly.
Old man Liao was in charge of the rest of the matters. Zhuang Xiaodie walked to the steps beside the gate and watched the family members pour in, but her mind was replaying the scenes deep in her memory. No matter the season, no matter the people, no matter whether they were strangers or familiar, they were all the same. A man came out to light a cigarette. Zhuang Xiaodie asked him for a cigarette for some reason, but held it in her hand without lighting it. The man chatted with her for a while and asked her which family she was related to. She said none of them. He nodded and smoked silently. Zhuang Xiaodie stood there, thinking of Shentu Hai for no reason. I wonder if the girl attended Wei Yuling's funeral. If she did, what expression did she have? Did she cry? Would she show such emotions that most people would have?
On the way back, Mr. Liao asked her if she was willing to continue working. Zhuang Xiaodie said, "I think I can drive well."
Old man Liao laughed and said, "You looked so pale, I thought I was going to hear you resign when I walked out."
"With the current market conditions, just having a job is enough." Zhuang Xiaodie also smiled.
Because they are outsiders, because they have nothing to do with this death, and because there are no bystanders, laughing is allowed.
She touched her face, remembering the slap her mother had given her at her father's funeral. It wasn't too hard, but it was loud. The gazes of her relatives were very real, weighing on her. Back then, she and Nian Jinsi were very close friends.
"Are there many people crying?" Zhuang Xiaodie asked.
"In this kind of occasion, it's dark and crowded, with people crying both genuinely and fakely."
"Is anyone laughing?"
Old man Liao looked at her and said nothing for a moment.
Zhuang Xiaodie said, "Oh, it's just that in the news nowadays, there are often stories of parents and children turning against each other. I wonder if you have come across any of these cases?"
"Really?" Old man Liao took out a cigarette, lit it, put it down again, and stared at the road ahead.
The traffic light turned red, and Zhuang Xiaodie stepped on the brakes. She was extremely patient.
"It wasn't a normal laugh," Old Man Liao said. "Several years ago, a junior high school student jumped to his death. His parents didn't want a funeral—understandable, after all, given the cause of death, relatives love to gossip and stab him behind his back. They hired several people to carry the coffin, but one person slipped and the coffin fell to the ground."
"The lid fell off?"
"No. Just a little bit of paint chipped off." The old man scratched his brow. "I was standing nearby at the time. Everyone was startled, staring at the coffin on the ground, not knowing what to do. After all, it wasn't a very auspicious situation. The father was also nearby. Everyone was waiting for him to speak, but he... suddenly sneered."
The green light came on, and Zhuang Xiaodie started the car. After a few seconds, she asked, "Are you sure you heard it right?"
"I saw him make that expression myself."
"What's the mother's reaction?"
"The mother went upstairs to get something and is not around."
"--Then what?"
"He told them to keep moving. After sending it to the funeral home, I left. I don't know what happened after that."
“Why did the junior high school student jump off the building?”
Old man Liao just shook his head.
There are bound to be rumors around such things. Zhuang Xiaodie suspected that Old Man Liao must have heard a lot of rumors, but he obviously refused to disclose them.
She poked one cheek with her tongue, and the slap from her mother seemed to still be there.
It's a dull pain.
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