Chapter 108: There is something unspeakable hidden in the crooked words
The master came back from the ground, his expression expressionless. Several neighbors were sitting in the living room. He went straight to the study, and I followed him in.
The master said in a deep voice, "Good spot. There is a bird's nest on the big tree. When we were digging the well, the big bird was squatting on the tree. The people were making a lot of noise, but the big bird didn't move. This proves that there are chicks in the nest, but they are still young."
I said, "This incident suggests that Old Zhou's grandson will have someone to protect him in the future. I looked up that piece of land online and it looks like a flying bird." I then asked Village Chief Qiao if there was anything unusual.
The master said, "I should be able to sense it, but I don't know who he will ask to look at the land in the future, and I don't know how good that earth immortal is. Cutting down the tree for burial would be a mistake. It must be to the right of Old Zhou to learn."
The master and his apprentice discussed it for a while. The master purred his lips, and I followed him to Old Zhou's house.
Because there haven't been any good days in the past few weeks, and they only have one grandson who is in his teens, and their finances are tight, the master set a principle for them: the funeral will be held tomorrow, and it should be as simple as possible.
The place was quiet, with only a dozen tables. Carpenter Zhou led us to the backyard bungalow and said, "Master, it's quiet here. Let's eat and discuss."
The dishes were relatively simple. Carpenter Zhou had said that his cousin, who worked at the township government, would preside over the memorial service. He suddenly changed his mind, saying that the township government was working overtime and he couldn't come.
The master said, "You preside over it."
Carpenter Zhou said, "Shan Hong is the host. He knows etiquette."
The master said, "That's a solution."
After dinner, while everyone was still there, we held a memorial service. As the loudspeaker blared, people gradually gathered. I climbed onto the platform made of a few wooden boards. After I stood there, I took the microphone and said:
"Dear leaders, distinguished guests, relatives, friends, and neighbors: The memorial service for Zhou Gong Hongda begins now."
Everyone fell silent. I read: "First, everyone stand and pay respect to Duke Zhou Hongda. Bow once, twice, and three times. At the end of the ceremony, return to your seats."
The second item was a eulogy read by filial grandson Zhou Jing. It was unknown who had commissioned it, but a twelve-year-old child delivered it with tears streaming down his face and a stuttering voice. The audience was even more heartbroken, and the audience burst into tears.
I read, "Third, I invite my friend, Master Hongyi, to recite the memorial."
The master ascended the stage, looked out at the crowd, and said, "Shanhong helped me draft the memorial. Before I read it, let me say a few words. I lived a life of greatness, but only had a few good days. Yesterday's ascension to heaven was a relief."
Everyone nodded, feeling that what the master said was true.
The Master then began to recite the text. The tone was lingering, typical of southern chanting, characterized by a long, lingering breath.
Only the Gregorian calendar, the year 20XX, April 24th - Duke Zhou - alas - suddenly passed away, the spring river, no longer flows - Hengqin, no longer speaks, the neighbors on the street, reluctant to leave, the youngest grandson of the Zhou family, all alone -
When I heard this, I realized my master had only used my work as a model. He had altered it to make it more fitting and moving. When he read the line, "Zhou's youngest grandson, all alone," several women in the audience burst into tears. They led him, and he led you, and suddenly the funeral turned into a scene of weeping.
Master recites again:
Listen to me, read the text, tears are pouring down like a river, the dead are entrusting the mountains; the living, where to go? Please, my relatives, and then I entrust you to my neighbors; I love this little grandson, but don't let him be alone and without support...
I knew that Master was using this opportunity to entrust the Zhou family's orphan to his care, and to instruct his relatives and neighbors to take good care of Old Zhou's grandson. Then, he returned to the main topic and recounted Zhou Hongda's tragic life.
The Master's voice had a special appeal. Its rhythms rose and fell, its pitches undulating, sometimes dragging on for an eternity, sometimes pausing abruptly; sometimes like the murmur of a spring, sometimes like the solitary wail of a mother ape.
I stood by, wiping away tears. If I hadn't been the one officiating the ceremony, I would have wanted to find a place to cry my heart out. The ceremony ended around nine o'clock.
My master asked me to invite all the neighbors to Youran Ju.
I went door to door calling people.
People came to the living room of the master's house one after another.
The master clapped his hands. The crowd began to quiet down. I counted about forty households.
The master said, "I have something to discuss with everyone. Old Zhou has passed away, leaving behind this orphaned grandson. The care of the child has been entrusted to Carpenter Zhou, but Carpenter Zhou isn't well off, and more people means more mouths to feed. So, I suggest that everyone donate some money to set up a 'poverty relief fund.' The starting amount is as low as 500 yuan."
After the master finished speaking, everyone responded. Some counted cash, some transferred money via mobile phones, and handed it over to Carpenter Zhou for management.
I was busy until nine in the evening. After everyone had dispersed, I asked my master for a few days off, saying I needed to attend a Prose Society meeting and to do some renovations.
The master said, "Go get busy. You've been working non-stop for a while now, and it's been hard work."
Back home, I went upstairs to take a shower. Surprisingly, my family wasn't asleep. They were all playing cards together. My mom asked, "Why are you eating lunch and dinner out?"
I told him how Master had taken charge of the Zhou family and handled a funeral. The family praised Master, saying he was a truly kind person who was brave enough to step forward when others were in need. There weren't many people like him.
My mother said, "Then go wash off the mold."
This is the custom in my hometown. Whenever you attend a funeral or return from a grave, the first thing you have to do is take a hot bath.
I took a nice shower and washed away all the fatigue from the past few days.
Coming out of the bathroom, my mother said, "I haven't seen you since yesterday. The chicken is stewed in the pressure cooker. Go have a bowl."
I begged, "I'm full."
My mother glared at me and said, "You only need to eat one bowl. Young people have better digestion ability. Go and eat it quickly."
I had no choice but to scoop up a bowl of soup and drink it with a slurping sound.
At this time, my cell phone rang.
A stranger called. I answered and said, "Hello."
The other party said: "Mr. Wan, I called you several times, but you never answered..."
I interrupted him. "Sorry, I've been busy with other people's things today and my phone is on silent. What do you want?"
The other party said, "I want to ask you for a fortune telling. Are you awake?"
I said, "No. But it's so late..."
The other party interrupted me: "As long as you are not asleep, I will come right away. I drive pretty fast."
I thought he must be in a hurry, so I said, "Okay, I'll wait for you in the night talk room."
Twenty minutes later, a man in his thirties came in, sat down, and said, "I'm going to tell you about gambling. My friend is in the jade business in Myanmar and has taken a fancy to a piece of jade. He wants me to invest in it. If I win, I'll get rich, but if I lose, I'll lose all my money. I'll start the gambling tomorrow morning."
This is a difficult question. I carefully scrutinized the character for "赌" (gamble). It was crooked, as if he were extremely nervous. If he had made up his mind, he would have written it in one smooth motion, even stopping the pen tip at the edge to poke a hole in the paper.
He definitely does not "gamble" on stones, gambling on stones is just an excuse.
I looked at him and smiled. "I'm not a fan of anything involving gambling. It encourages people to take shortcuts. Every industry has its own rules."
He was a little disappointed.
He knew he was conflicted and said, "Whether you're gambling on stones or doing something else, think it through before asking me, okay?"
The man wanted to count the money, but I waved my hand to show I wouldn't take it. He walked away somewhat angrily.
Gambling on stones was just an excuse; he must have encountered something that made it difficult for him to make a decision. I was certain this man would come back to me.
There must be something unspeakable hidden in these crooked words.
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