Chapter 11

In many places, this custom is still passed down.

For those who have passed away without a funeral, during mourning, one must place copper coins in the deceased's mouth and cover the face with white cloth.

Placing copper coins in the mouth allows the deceased's soul to float up peacefully and be reborn safely; covering the face with white cloth expresses grief and also prevents the dead from seeing the living and bringing misfortune.

Now Li Feng actually wants me to steal that piece of white cloth—what's the difference between that and digging up someone's grave? Know that the dead are kept at home only a short time, usually a day and a half, and that half-day is precisely when the Nanman folk, priests, etc., perform rites to deliver the deceased. After the priest delivers the rites and the children have mourned, the funeral proceeds.

Now, stealing the cloth while they are mourning—isn't that literally slapping the whole family in the face? Moreover, when they are performing the deliverance rites, the whole family is present; stealing then isn't courting death, what is?

One can foresee how miserable my fate would be if I listened to Li Feng.

Therefore, I would never agree, looking pitifully at Li Feng: 'Master, you want me to steal the white cloth covering the dead person's face—I'll be beaten to death.'

Li Feng shook his head, making an orchid-finger gesture: 'No, no, the master isn't telling you to steal, but to take.'

'Eh, how to take?' I asked.

'How would I know? You figure it out yourself; as long as I see that white cloth tomorrow morning, that's enough.' Li Feng replied pompously.

...... Tell me, what's the difference between this and stealing, you heartless dead old man?

Once again, unwilling, I was kicked out the door by Li Feng.

'Last night at the chou hour, a Zhang family in Nanman Village had an elder pass away; they are holding a vegetarian feast and deliverance rite tonight, so when you arrive they will just be finishing the feast— as for how to take it, figure it out yourself.'

Having said that, Li Feng slammed the door shut with a bang.

...... This old man, I'm truly impressed—he knows about every death down to the last detail.

I muttered outside for a while, then resentfully greeted Li Feng's immediate family before I glumly headed toward Nanman Village.

Nanman Village isn't far—just over a hill; walking there from here, one would arrive around evening. Li Feng even calculated the timing for me.

But once I get there, how am I supposed to take the white cloth? Should I tell the host, 'Buddy, hand over the white cloth covering your father's or mother's head'?

If I really did that, I'd probably be greeted with the family's brooms.

After agonizing for a long time, I finally concluded: take it one step at a time.

Li Feng's prediction was spot on—when I reached Nanman Village, it was indeed night, around 8 or 9 o'clock.

But there seem to be many Zhang families in the village; which one is holding the funeral? Do I have to ask each one, 'Is someone dead in your house? Has someone passed away?'

Never mind being greeted with slaps; by the time I finish asking, the funeral will already be over.

Right, I could tell Li Feng I couldn't find the way and didn't know which family was holding the funeral.

In an instant, this idea popped into my head, my heart racing as if it would jump out; finally I had an excuse to go home and sleep peacefully.

But the conversation of a pair of passersby, A and B, then completely shattered my fantasy.

'Hey, have you heard? The elderly Lady Zhang of the Zhang family at the village end passed away last night, and they're holding the funeral tonight.'

'I've heard—alas, that Lady Zhang was also pitiful; she suffered half her life, and now that her son has succeeded, she didn't even enjoy two days of blessing before she passed.'

'That Lady Zhang, ordinarily she's quite a good person in the village; later when the funeral procession goes out, I'll go see her off, but I don't exactly remember where her house is.'

'No way, his family is easy to spot—right next to the village-end grocery store; there's only one grocery in the whole village, how could you not find it?'

...... Is this heaven's way of forcing me to steal the cloth?

The conversation of those two passersby passed word for word into my ears.

Although I could still use that excuse to deceive Li Feng, on second thought, given Li Feng's mysterious and unfathomable powers, sending a few yin soldiers and generals after me wouldn't be impossible.

So, I can't deceive the master; I can only turn around and keep walking forward.

If you're making me take the dead person's white cloth just to toy with me, I'll go back and beat you up. As I walked, I kept thinking.

Based on that conversation of the two passersby, I easily found the grocery store; beside it, indeed there was a family holding a funeral.

From afar, I saw the family's doorway filled with paper money, gold ingots, and such. Inside, a golden pagoda was set up. Several people knelt on the ground in mourning garb. Even though I wasn't too close, I could still hear a mourning chant from afar.

'Eat pork liver with gusto, eat your fill. Pork lung, chew slowly, chew it to mush, Mama…' Translating the dialect, that's the original meaning of the mourning song. Every time I hear the filial daughter chant this mourning song, my face twitches uncontrollably. Still, this strange mourning song is actually quite pleasant to hear.

I stepped in cautiously, head lowered, standing quietly to the side. Perhaps because I'm a child, no one in the house noticed me; if anyone did, they just glanced at me hurriedly. Maybe they thought this child must be a relative of the old lady, coming late out of playfulness.

Seeing no one questioning me, I breathed a sigh of relief, still shaken, hiding to the side.

In the center of the room there was a straw mat; on it lay a corpse, the body covered with white cloth, and a small piece of white cloth covering the face.

That piece of white cloth is why I came tonight; but with so many people guarding it, I can't make a move.

So I can only wait until they leave, or when there are few people, then seize the moment when they're not looking to take the cloth.

I stood there quietly like that until about eleven at night, when the Nanman folk arrived and set up a deliverance altar outside the door.

At first, there were still many people inside; not a single son or daughter in mourning had gone out.

Later, when the family had to lead the deceased's soul through the Thirteen Gates of the Ghost Gate, everyone inside rushed out—including the mourning sons and daughters.

This is part of the deliverance ritual: relatives must line up, with those behind holding the front person's pant legs. Led by the priest, they circle around, passing the Yellow Springs Road, Naihe Bridge, Evil Dog Ridge, etc., of the Thirteen Gates of Yinjian Difu; only thus can the deceased's soul find the path to rebirth.

At this point, one priest will step out to impersonate the guardian of a certain Yin realm gate, while another priest leads the family. They will claim to be some deity, escorting some soul to pass the gate, using a question-and-answer format of esoteric secrets. This continues until they bring the deceased's soul to the final gate, the Rebirth Cliff, at which point the procedure ends.

I also followed them out, lining up at the end, holding the last person's pant legs, circling twice; then, taking advantage of their inattention, I sneaked back into the house.

The house was empty, only lotus lanterns and some scattered paper money on the floor. In the center of the hall lay a corpse lengthwise on the straw mat; the white cloth on her face was within reach.

Outside, the priest had already led them past Golden Chicken Mountain; after seven more gates comes the Rebirth Cliff. The Thirteen Gates of the Ghost Gate—though not few—don't take too much time.

So I also need to hurry; while they haven't finished the Thirteen Gates, I'll quickly take the cloth and slip away. That way, even if they notice, it'll be later.

Still, this feels a bit underhanded. Although taking the white cloth from a dead person's head isn't as vile as shaving a corpse's beard or stripping its clothes, it remains a desecration of the dead.

I hesitated long beside the corpse, then knelt and bowed a few times, silently asking for forgiveness in my heart, before reaching out to take the white cloth from her face.

I extended my hand, cautiously probing toward the white cloth. Closer and closer. At that moment I also closed my eyes; after all, seeing a dead person also frightens me.

Slowly, my hand felt the texture of the white cloth; my heart leapt with joy, I was about to yank the cloth down and stuff it into my pocket when an abrupt change occurred.

The mourning music outside stopped abruptly, followed by an uproar; in an instant, everyone rushed into the house.