Chapter 325: Rural Absurd Past Events Chapter 325: Rural Funeral, Simple and Real

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Protagonist:

Li Xiulan

"Let's go to the hospital again in a couple of days."

Not long after Liang Xinghua left, Wang Zhanggen said this to Li Xiulan.

Li Xiulan was stunned for a moment; previously Wang Zhanggen had been very resistant to going to the hospital — last time they went, it was only after she coaxed him with all kinds of persuasion that he agreed to go.

She never expected that now Wang Zhanggen would actually take the initiative to propose going to the hospital.

"Have you come around? Do you want to go have the surgery?"

Li Xiulan asked.

Because Wang Zhanggen had a thyroid nodule problem, they had no choice but to postpone their plan to build a new house for a period of time.

The previous plan was to start building the new house after National Day; now it has already been decided to postpone until next year — after the New Year, they'll see what the specific situation is and then make plans.

"Mm, I've come around. After Liang Yuanchao's funeral is over, we'll go take a look."

Wang Zhanggen said this.

Li Xiulan asked again:

"Then should we tell the three children about it?"

Wang Zhanggen said:

"Tell Dashan and Erhai, but don't tell Xiao Hua — he has the college entrance exam next June, and I'm still counting on him to bring me honor; we can't let him get distracted."

Li Xiulan said: "Okay."

Wang Zhanggen lit a cigarette for himself:

"I'll go offer a stick of incense to Liang Yuanchao."

Having said that, he turned and walked out the door.

At some point, Wang Zhanggen's back had already become somewhat stooped.

One couldn't tell whether it was the years that spared no one, or the illness that spared no one.

Perhaps it was both.

Wang Zhanggen arrived at Liang Yuanchao's home; before he even entered the gate, he saw white cloth hung at the doorway, and quite a few people had gathered in the courtyard — there were fellow villagers, and relatives who had returned from the city.

Liang Xinghua wore mourning hemp and filial attire, busy greeting the visiting guests; he hadn't slept for several days, the dark circles under his eyes were very severe, and he looked as if he had aged more than ten years all at once.

Every person who entered to burn incense and see off Liang Yuanchao's body would politely say a "condolences and accept the change" to Liang Xinghua, and Liang Xinghua would express thanks for their arrival.

Wang Zhanggen greeted Liang Xinghua and then walked inside.

The room where Liang Yuanchao's body was laid out was a side room, not the main room, nor the living room.

Because of the custom here, a room that has held a dead body is inauspicious and cannot be lived in for a long time, so generally they would not place the body in the living room or main room, but in a side room that wasn't lived in much to begin with.

In the side room was a worn-out bed, on which lay the motionless Liang Yuanchao.

Under the dim light, two longevity lamps burned on either side of the bedhead, flickering bright and dim, and against the thick scent of incense and candles, they gave an indescribable feeling.

Wang Zhanggen received a stick of incense from Zhou Aidi's hands, and he bowed three times to Liang Yuanchao's body.

"Village Secretary Liang, have a safe journey."

He inserted the incense into the temporarily prepared incense burner.

Wang Zhanggen said a few words of comfort to Zhou Aidi at his side, then left.

Coming out of the Liang family home, Wang Zhanggen felt an indescribable sigh in his heart.

He thought to himself: when it's his turn to die, what kind of scene will it be?

It should be at least a bit more glorious than Liang Yuanchao's, right? At least he has three sons, and he believes his three sons will certainly handle his funeral properly and beautifully.

The next day Wang Zhanggen rose very early; he didn't even eat breakfast, and took the initiative to go to the Liang home to help.

In the past he rarely took the initiative to help others with things; even when encountering other families' weddings or funerals, he wouldn't be this proactive, but this time he was unusually active and proactive.

There was no other reason — only because he felt he might not have much time left to live; if he came to help more now, then when he passes later, others would also come help him a bit more.

Many people had already come to the Liang home.

Besides Shanggou Village villagers, there were also quite a few Liang family relatives.

Quite a few relatives from Zhou Aidi's maternal home had also come.

Many were unfamiliar faces — people Wang Zhanggen had never even seen before.

The flowing-water banquet chef had already prepared breakfast; Liang Xinghua and Zhou Aidi and some of the Liang family's closer relatives were greeting everyone to eat breakfast.

Liang Xinghua had already called the crematorium people to come over; they said they'd arrive at Shanggou Village around nine o'clock.

The hired funeral band was on the side beating gongs and drums testing the sound.

The scene was a bustle of activity, lively and noisy, which instead reduced the sorrowful atmosphere by a few degrees.

Some people were eating breakfast, patiently waiting for the funeral to start, occasionally cracking a few jokes.

This didn't harm the propriety — everyone being able to come was already giving plenty of face.

They wouldn't pick a fight with you just because you laughed once, as if you'd committed a taboo.

A township funeral isn't as sorrowful and heavy as movies portray; it's more like a farewell banquet.

At least for the outsiders attending the funeral, it's like this — just come to help a bit, then incidentally eat a banquet, a very ordinary matter.

So there wouldn't be too much sorrow; on the contrary, there might even be some happiness because they get to eat good food and dishes.

In a blink, it was nearly nine in the morning.

The master of ceremonies Li Hongshou had Liang Xinghua go give red envelopes to the four coffin bearers, preparing to lift the coffin and set off.

Coffin bearers are generally older men from the village.

Before long it was nine o'clock in the morning; Li Hongshou lit a string of firecrackers at the door, the crackling pops signaling the funeral was about to begin.

The funeral band had long been ready; the moment the firecrackers died down they started beating gongs and drums and blowing suona, mournful yet clamorous music rising over the village.

Liang Xinghua held Liang Yuanchao's portrait in both hands, walking at the very front.

Behind him, four coffin bearers carried the coffin.

Zhou Aidi leaned on the coffin, weeping all the way as she followed out.

Behind the coffin came the Liang family relatives in mourning garb.

Further back were Zhou Aidi's maternal home relatives.

Last of all were the other villagers with no kinship ties.

Wang Zhanggen walked among the funeral procession, submerged in the clamorous crowd, watching from afar as the coffin was carried out of Shanggou Village, listening from afar to the intermittent firecrackers and the unceasing band music.

The coffin was carried to the village entrance and, beneath the old tree there, slowly set down.

Master Li Hongshou performed a "soul sending ritual" here, circling the coffin muttering incantations, the general meaning being to let Liang Yuanchao set his mind at ease and depart for the Western Paradise to enjoy blessings.

After finishing his own chanting, he also led the Liang family relatives and villagers around the coffin three turns left, three turns right, chanting farewell words as they turned.

Only after these rites were done was the coffin lifted onto the crematorium's funeral car.

The funeral car took Liang Yuanchao's body to the crematorium; the relatives, friends, and villagers who came to see him off boarded the minivans Liang Xinghua had chartered and went together to the crematorium.

A convoy of nearly ten vehicles, grand and imposing.

The funeral band could not stop playing the whole way.

Firecrackers, too, had to be lit every few minutes.

About an hour's drive later, they finally arrived at the crematorium.

At the crematorium, it was not only their send-off party.

There were many other funeral processions as well.

Weeping rose and fell continuously.

Wang Zhanggen followed in the procession, watching one funeral party after another enter and leave the crematorium, and could not help feeling a pang of sorrow.

A wave of grief, mixed with fear, welled up unbidden in his heart.

He wondered: being burned like this at the crematorium — would it hurt very much?