Back at the village chief's house, the chief's daughter-in-law had lit a brazier at the door. Ding Shi stepped over it, took a set of clothes from her, and bathed in the back courtyard with spring water drawn by a water ladle.
He changed into a set of gray clothes. Ding Shi looked in the mirror: the clothes were truly ugly, but clean and comfortable. After combing his hair, he felt his handsome looks were enough to conceal their ugliness. The chief's daughter-in-law also washed his clothes for him, and Ding Shi thanked her.
Breakfast was decent. The staple was mixed rice, with fried tofu, stir-fried beans, green peppers with fermented black beans, and stir-fried cabbage. Oil and salt were generous, the daughter-in-law's cooking was good, and Ding Shi ate three full bowls of plain rice before putting down his chopsticks.
The chief's son was a construction foreman in the county town and not home, but his wife was open and easygoing. She led Ding Shi to a first-floor guest room. Knowing he had spent a busy night working for her father-in-law, she told him to rest first and that she would wake him at lunchtime.
Bone-tired, Ding Shi lay on the bed and drowsiness overtook him. Just as he was about to fall asleep, the village chief pushed open the door. "Xiao Ding, Xiao Ding."
Ding Shi opened his eyes and stared at the chief, wondering how much this village skinflint would squeeze out of him.
Ignoring Ding Shi's exhaustion, the chief said coldly and mercilessly, "I just received terrible news: Grandma Wang passed away at home. Go make a trip for me."
Quest: Grandma Wang's funeral.
Grandma Wang, the one who has Zhao Liu as her honorary grandson?
Ding Shi struggled out of bed, put on his shoes, and silently headed to Grandma Wang's house.
Casual instance? Casual instance? Ding Shi felt an impulse: he wanted to teleport to an island, grab the little angel by the neck, shake it back and forth into noodles, and loudly demand: Was this really a fucking casual instance?
From behind Ding Shi, the chief added the final blow: "We stayed up too late last night; I need to catch up on sleep. Handle things yourself, and don't bother notifying me."
Ding Shi's steps paused, then he continued forward.
Thinking it through, the system shouldn't be so shameless as to try to work him to death directly. The main cause of his exhaustion was Li Si. Li Si was a player, a variable in Taoyuan Village, and that variable wasn't in the system's calculations. After the variable occurred, if the system wasn't too terrible, it should give him rest time. And indeed, the village chief needed to catch up on sleep, so as his assistant, Ding Shi naturally ought to be able to sleep soundly.
But why did Grandma Wang have to die at this moment?
Two answers. First: the system was being inhuman. Second: Grandma Wang's death was connected to her honorary grandson Zhao Liu. Zhao Liu was a player, and also a variable.
...
When Ding Shi arrived at Grandma Wang's house, more than ten people were already in the courtyard. He recognized a few of them—elders surnamed Wang from the village and Grandma Wang's nieces and nephews.
The person in charge was Old Master Wang. Seeing Ding Shi, he waved him over. "Xiao Ding, come here."
Ding Shi walked to Old Master Wang's side. "Greetings, Old Master." He laid on the sweet talk.
Old Master Wang nodded: "Although Grandma Wang married into our Wang family, we have always respected the village office. Thank you for coming as the village's representative to help."
Ding Shi: "Old Master, just tell me what you need me to do."
Old Master Wang said: "Several decent women are washing Grandma Wang's body and changing her clothes. You young men need to figure out how to get the coffin down first."
Grandma Wang's house was a one-and-a-half-story building with a 150-centimeter-high attic. The attic held a coffin Grandma Wang had prepared in her younger years. At the time, cremation had not yet been implemented in parts of the countryside; many people began arranging their funeral affairs after turning fifty, and most coffins were purchased by the elderly themselves.
Ding Shi and three young men went to the staircase. It was a wooden staircase, but only 20 centimeters wide. Ding Shi asked: "How was the coffin brought up to the attic back then?"
One young man answered: "They removed the attic planks and hoisted it up with rope."
"Good, very good!" Ding Shi smiled. "Does that mean I'm supposed to remove the planks and find rope?"
The young man said: "The rope is at home. As for removing the planks, it's better for villagers to do it, so it can be explained afterward."
Fine! A working person's life isn't a life.
Ding Shi took a nail puller upstairs and began prying out nails and removing boards. He carefully collected the nails, because if he wasn't mistaken, he'd soon be responsible for nailing the planks back.
A single leaf heralds autumn. Now, whenever an NPC belched, Ding Shi knew what kind of nonsense the system was about to pull.
After removing two boards, Ding Shi in the attic saw Zhao Liu dash into the courtyard like the wind.
Zhao Liu ignored everyone else, rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a jar, and sprinted toward the village entrance. Ding Shi's heart sank at once.
He had a guess: Grandma Wang had died because Zhao Liu had failed to deliver the pickled vegetables to the minibus driver at the agreed time, eight in the morning.
Zhao Liu, this brat, had only one job: deliver pickled vegetables to the minibus driver every day, then bring back the meat the driver gave him.
Ding Shi remembered the scene from yesterday afternoon: Zhao Liu covered in sweat, chopping firewood next door at Cuihua's place, with Cuihua watching him. That was the cause. Last night Zhao Liu had stayed at Cuihua's; with a beauty in his arms, he had forgotten the delivery time.
After figuring it out, Ding Shi immediately wanted to turn into a prairie dog and howl at the sky: Why?
You all mess around recklessly, so why is it the most dedicated me who gets hurt?
Damn! He'd hit his finger. Distracted, Ding Shi sucked his index finger in pain and hopped in place, then his head struck the attic beam. Squatting and rubbing his head with the hammer, Ding Shi felt aggrieved for the first time in his life.
With several NPCs helping, the coffin was lowered from the attic.
Grandma Wang's house was typical: three compounds in all. The left compound had two rooms, the right compound had two rooms, and the central compound had two rooms on each side, including the kitchen. In the middle of the central compound was the living room—an open hall without doors—which local Taoyuan Village speech called the tingtou. The memorial hall was set up in the tingtou.
The Wang family had begun arranging the memorial hall, removing the square table and benches and placing the open coffin in the center. Several women carried a bedboard and brought Grandma Wang to the memorial hall, placed her in the coffin, and pasted a yellow paper over her face to avoid frightening people with her deathly appearance.
Afterward they covered the coffin again but did not nail it shut. According to local custom, the body would rest for three days before burial. There was still much to do during those three days.
Grandma Wang herself was not surnamed Wang; she had married into the Wang family. The Wang clan elder listed the funeral arrangements. First, they needed to survey a gravesite, which required a yin-yang master. They had to go to the end of the village to invite Blind Zhao, then lead him to the Wang family cemetery on the mountain to choose a spot. They also needed to carve a gravestone and dig the grave.
Second, they had to notify Grandma Wang's natal family. If her natal family did not come, the coffin could not be nailed shut. Her natal family lived in a village twenty kilometers away.
Next came the vigil. During the day there were relatives and friends; at night, close family had to keep watch.
Ding Shi listened with half an ear, because the village office had already notified Grandma Wang's son. The family was riding Jialing motorcycles toward Taoyuan Village. By then, Ding Shi only needed to represent the village chief at the funeral and offer his condolences.
Zhao Liu returned, holding an empty clay jar. He entered the house, saw the memorial hall, backed out the door, and looked left and right, wondering if he had gone to the wrong courtyard.
Ding Shi walked over in long strides and quietly asked Zhao Liu, "You didn't deliver the pickled vegetables this morning, did you?"
Zhao Liu answered: "I did." He sensed he was in trouble and instinctively denied Ding Shi's question.
Ding Shi could clearly tell he was lying. "Glad you're happy. Bye."
Zhao Liu hurriedly grabbed Ding Shi. "Wang Wu, what's happening here? Why is a memorial hall set up?"
Ding Shi said: "Filming a movie." He tossed off those words and left. You weren't honest, so I won't help you; even if you were honest, I might not help anyway.
A middle-aged man came running. Ding Shi knew him as the village office accountant. Leaning one hand against Grandma Wang's gate, gasping for air, he shouted: "Wang Zhu was in a traffic accident! His wife and son went to the hospital too!"
Zhao Liu knew Wang Zhu was Grandma Wang's son and asked anxiously: "What happened?"
Ding Shi answered from the side: "Overloaded, no helmets, unlicensed driving."
The accountant said: "Their lives aren't in danger, but all three are seriously injured and need hospitalization. They cannot see Grandma Wang off on her final journey."
Hearing this, Ding Shi suddenly had a bad premonition. He looked at Zhao Liu and immediately breathed a sigh of relief. It was fine—the bad premonition had nothing to do with him.
Chapter 10