Petermont and Brier exchanged a glance and nodded.
"And there are supercomputers and such, we are indeed more advanced than them, but how many years ahead can we be? Sooner or later they will catch up with us. Xing's plan, I think, can help us generate more green money. That's enough, isn't it?"
“Okay, we’ll do as you say. But I have to help him while I’m on vacation, not immediately after I get back home. Understand, George?” Brier said.
Early the next morning.
Xing Baohua rode his bicycle to Shangguzhuang.
When Xing Baohua arrived at Secretary Huang's house, the gate was tightly closed. He then went to the dilapidated courtyard from the previous day.
As soon as I entered the alley, I felt that there were more people. Although I didn't know any of them, their faces all looked a little sad.
I parked my car at the entrance of the alley, locked it, and walked in. When I got to the entrance, there were more people, and the place felt very crowded because it was small.
After squeezing in, I saw Secretary Huang making arrangements on the side. The little boy I'd seen before was now dressed in slightly yellowed white mourning clothes, kneeling in the mourning hall guarding the memorial tablets on the eight-immortal table. When someone came to pay their respects, the little boy knelt down and kowtowed three times.
Xing Baohua was too embarrassed to move forward.
He didn't think much of it when he came; he thought Secretary Huang wanted to talk to him about official business.
Since he was already there, he couldn't come empty-handed. He had money on him, but no paper money or incense. In his haste, he randomly asked someone if there was a small shop in the village.
The other party said no, but there are resellers.
It took me a while to realize what a consignment store was. It can't be described as a store, but rather a point.
Ignoring all that for now, I jogged along the path the person I asked for directions pointed out.
I bought a ream of yellow paper and a packet of incense. I also inquired about the local customs regarding giving money as a gift. How much should I give?
Fortunately, the person running the sales point was an elderly woman who knew a little about these things. I told her that if we were close, she should give more, like 50 cents or a dollar. For casual acquaintances, I'd give 20 or 30 cents.
Xing Baohua glanced at the change in his pocket; he had exactly 50 cents. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Returning to the dilapidated courtyard, the accounting office was right inside the door. He handed over five mao (50 cents), and the accountant gave him a few extra glances. After asking his name, the accountant wrote Xing Baohua's name in a white notebook, casually announcing, "Mr. Xing Baohua, a dear friend of Li Zhijun, contributes five mao."
The person in charge of receiving them began to chant: "The filial son kneels to greet them, Mr. Xing steps forward to offer sacrifices, and the filial son kneels in gratitude."
Xing Baohua didn't understand these things, but fortunately, someone in charge taught her. Actually, according to the old customs, Xing Baohua should also kneel and bow. The dead are respected, and there are no small matters in worship.
We've entered a new society now, and many old customs have changed. Bowing can now be used instead. Of course, it also depends on the closeness of the relationship between the two parties.
Secretary Huang had already noticed Xing Baohua's arrival, but he didn't have time to go over and talk to him right now.
He took a moment to speak with Xing Baohua, saying, "Wait a moment, I need to arrange a few things before we talk."
"Okay, Secretary, you go ahead with your work." Xing Baohua didn't pay any attention to these things. He waved to the two secretaries.
Secretary Huang found a few people and arranged for a car to be parked.
The cart was pulled by three bicycles. One bicycle was in the middle, and two bicycles on either side were tied with ropes to pull it. This was to take it to the crematorium at the appointed time.
Suddenly, the person in charge asked everyone to be quiet. The scene fell silent instantly.
The person in charge announced that the memorial service for Li Zhijun would be presided over by a cadre sent by the town.
An elderly man, dressed in a dark blue Zhongshan suit, stood in front of the mourning tent, holding a manuscript in his hand, ready to read it aloud.
This surprised Xing Baohua. It seemed that the deceased was not only well-liked in the village, with most of the villagers coming to help, but the town also sent people over.
However, only a few people at the memorial service could understand it. This kind of ceremony is very common in later generations, but it was a novelty in the old village.
The memorial service, presided over by middle-aged and elderly cadres, has begun. First, a three-minute silence is observed.
Many villagers didn't know what a moment of silence meant, but fortunately, Secretary Huang shouted, "Everyone bow your heads, everyone bow your heads!"
Xing Baohua didn't dare to look up and look around, but she inexplicably wanted to laugh.
After a long moment of silence, the middle-aged cadre continued, "When Comrade Li Zhijun came to our Shanggu Village as part of the rural reform movement, he was a good farmer. He personally established Shangguzhuang Primary School to educate the children of the surrounding villages about literacy. He was a good teacher and a good principal. At the same time, he was also a good team leader in the production team..."
Listening to the biographical introduction, Xing Baohua learned a little about what kind of person the deceased Li Zhijun was.
Back then, many intellectuals went down to the countryside to learn about agricultural spirit and dedicated their youth to this land.
At that time, their enthusiasm for the renewed transformation of agriculture was burning bright.
Red flags were planted all over the mountains, slogans were shouted, and people were working hard. Why were they made to put down their books, their research, and their majors to farm?
That was a supreme spirit. It inspired them to willingly and enthusiastically dedicate themselves to the land of their motherland, all for the sake of producing more grain?
As soon as the memorial service ended, the organizers began arranging various tasks. The coffin bearers (due to the circumstances at the time, a coffin was not allowed; "carrying the coffin" was just a name, as the coffin was actually already wrapped in white cloth) helped the bereaved sons smash basins and tiles. There were also people preparing to throw clothes over the wall.
After the people who went to the crematorium left, the dilapidated courtyard gradually became less crowded. Most of the villagers came to pay their respects and then went home.
Only a few people were left in the courtyard to help out. After the urn returned, the final procedure would be the funeral procession.
Secretary Huang finally had some free time. He walked over to Xing Baohua, took out a cigarette, and handed it to him, saying, "I'll take you somewhere."
Xing Baohua nodded and followed behind the Party Secretary. The Secretary said, "I mainly asked you to come here to check on the village school."
"Does the school need repairs?" Xing Baohua thought it was a plea for donations, just a matter of paying a few coins.
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