Prolonged illness by the bedside breeds no filial child.
At a funeral, those who beat their chests, wail to high heaven, and put on the most dramatic show are rarely the sons and daughters who spent years attending to the bedridden.
On the contrary, those who served day in and day out, finally seeing the elder off to the grave, find it hardest to shed tears when the mourning begins.
Anything that can have the word "value" appended to it is finite—including emotions.
Drain them long enough, and they will naturally be drained dry.
Just like Yin Meng right now. She smiled—not a strained, bitter smile, but one of release and quiet relief.
Her grandfather had been trapped inside the coffin, and she had been trapped inside the coffin shop.
Grandfather and granddaughter had each endured their own torment.
Now, at last, both had found release.
Her relief came from having held out until the very end. She had never shown impatience, never let herself sink into visible despair. With a bright, positive face, she had changed her grandfather’s diapers and wiped him down every day, leaning over the coffin's edge to talk to him.
She knew this was her duty; after all, he had raised her. Whenever a sudden numbness or disgust welled up in her heart, she felt repulsed with herself, following it with self-criticism and scolding.
She had been terrified of breaking down. She had refused to let her grandfather see anything short of a dutiful granddaughter—not even the slightest crack was permitted.
Now, she had won.
She had earned a clear conscience for the rest of her life.
Tan Wenbin was the first to step forward, smiling as well. "The old gentleman passed peacefully. It's a joyful funeral."
"Let's arrange the mourning," Runsheng said.
The funeral arrangements were simple, for there truly were no outside guests. Yin Meng did not need to bind her arm in black gauze or tie white cord around her waist to kneel before visitors and invite them in.
Two white lanterns were hung on either side of the shop's signboard.
A single wreath was set by the door, signed with the names of three people. The funeral couplet was brushed by Li Zhuiyuan, as among the four of them, he was the only one with good brush calligraphy.
The shop already had an old loudspeaker, which was now moved outside to play the funeral dirge.
Yet this was Fengdu, and it was Ghost Street. The storefront was a coffin shop to begin with. Even with all these adornments laid out, passersby did not assume someone had actually died; they instinctively figured it was just an event to drum up atmosphere.
For a time, even more customers drifted into the shop to look around than usual.
After dressing the old man in his burial shroud, Yin Meng put on her mourning garb and sat cross-legged before the memorial hall.
Tan Wenbin and Runsheng sat opposite each other, burning spirit paper.
Paper ashes swirled in the air, making the room slightly stifling and warm.
It happened to start raining outside, so Li Zhuiyuan simply closed the genealogy book, picked up a small wooden stool, and went to sit by the shop entrance.
The rain brought fresh, cool air, washing the pedestrians clean from the street.
Runsheng asked, "How do funerals work around here? How long should the vigil last?"
"I want to bury Grandpa tonight," Yin Meng said.
Runsheng cautioned, "That goes against custom."
Unless times were chaotic and desperate necessity took over, no one ever heard of burying a person the very night they died.
"Custom or not, it doesn't matter anymore," Yin Meng said.
Tan Wenbin chimed in at once. "A person who fulfilled her filial duties while he was alive has the right to stand tall. There's really no need to put on an act."
Runsheng asked, "Then I'll wheel the cart for you. Where is your ancestral grave?"
Yin Meng shook her head. "My family doesn't have an ancestral burial ground. Our tradition is water burial."
"Which stretch of water?" Runsheng asked.
Yin Meng shook her head again. "I don't know. When Grandpa was well, he never told me about these things in detail."
Sitting by the shop entrance with his back to them, listening to the rain, Li Zhuiyuan spoke up. "The Nine-Bend River."
Yin Meng asked curiously, "Xiao Yuan, how do you know?"
"It's written in your family genealogy."
"Written there? I've read the genealogy, but I don't remember seeing that."
"It's in the notes at the back. One of your Ming dynasty ancestors recorded the burial procedure for his father in great detail."
"Oh, no wonder. I didn't read those notes. There were too many of them, cramped together, and the characters were too hard to read."
Li Zhuiyuan said, "Your grandfather was indeed far too careless."
He had reached such an advanced age, yet he hadn't informed his granddaughter of his final arrangements in advance.
Of course, it was also possible that the old man had long stopped caring about such rules. After all, he had lent out the family genealogy without a second thought.
His son was missing without a trace, his only blood relative was his granddaughter, and his own health was failing. He had probably braced himself long ago for the family line's end; otherwise, he wouldn't have withheld teaching Yin Meng the art of walking the yin path.
"Then... could you help me arrange Grandpa's burial, Xiao Yuan?"
Runsheng said, "Call him Ge."
Tan Wenbin set an example. "Xiao Yuan Ge, what do you want to eat for lunch? I'll go buy it."
Yin Meng rose from her prayer mat, walked over to Li Zhuiyuan's side, and squatted down.
"Xiao Yuan Ge, please help me."
Li Zhuiyuan nodded.
Yin Meng let out a sigh of relief, turned her head, and shouted to Tan Wenbin, "Go to Auntie Wang's braised meat shop over there! I want pig's trotters!"
Tan Wenbin opened his umbrella and stepped into the sheet of rain.
Before long, he returned carrying a large bag of food.
There was no liquor, but there was plenty of good meat and savory dishes.
The four sat in a circle, opening the plastic bags right there on the floor.
The rice had been cooked at home by Runsheng himself; he hadn't dared let Yin Meng touch it.
A large basin of steamed rice was brought over. Li Zhuiyuan and Yin Meng each took half a bowl, leaving the basin barely touched, which was entirely surrendered to Runsheng and Tan Wenbin.
As they ate, Tan Wenbin asked, "What do you plan to do next? Keep running this coffin shop?"
Yin Meng stopped gnawing on her trotter, stole a peek at Li Zhuiyuan, and said softly, "I've already called him Ge."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Tan Wenbin didn't catch on for a moment.
Runsheng said, "She's latching onto us."
Yin Meng kicked Runsheng's leg.
Tan Wenbin was somewhat surprised. "What made you think of that? You want to leave with us? It's a long way from here to Nantong."
Yin Meng said casually, "Anyway, I don't have any relatives left now. One mouth to feed means the whole family is full. I can go anywhere. I don't have any friends either—just the three of you."
Tan Wenbin said awkwardly, "But Grandpa Li's house already has one useless freeloader—me."
Yin Meng said, "I can work! Help with cooking and stuff."
Runsheng: "..."
Tan Wenbin: "..."
Li Zhuiyuan felt compelled to speak. "Once you come home with us, you can do absolutely nothing. But whatever you do, do not get the urge to cook."
Even Tan Wenbin's cast-iron stomach hadn't been able to take it. If Yin Meng made a meal back home, she would probably send both him and Great-Grandpa straight to the grave.
"You agree, then?" Yin Meng asked joyfully. "Then I'm going to Nantong with you!"
"Mm. All right."
*Old man, this granddaughter of yours is actually much smarter than you thought.*
After the meal, the loudspeaker outside continued droning funeral dirges while the four sat before the memorial hall playing cards.
At first they played four-player Dou Dizhu. After a while, the other three tacitly excluded Li Zhuiyuan and switched to three-player Dou Dizhu.
It wasn't until late afternoon that they wrapped up.
The goods in the shop needed to be cleared out. The handicrafts weren't worth much to begin with and could simply be given away. The truly valuable items in the shop were the coffins. The old man had taken one, leaving four behind.
Fortunately, coffins were hard currency these days.
Every family had elderly relatives, and elders always prepared their longevity wood before they died.
To move them quickly, Yin Meng slashed the price by half. The four coffins sold out in no time, and for cold cash.
Runsheng and Tan Wenbin wheeled the cart back and forth, delivering the four coffins to their respective buyers' shops. Indeed, they hadn't even left Ghost Street before other merchants bought them all up.
No one worried that setting a coffin outside temporarily would hurt business; around here, it was as ordinary as setting out a beckoning cat.
Yin Meng sat counting her money. "Not bad. Next month's rent hasn't been paid yet anyway. Whatever junk is left inside can just go to the landlord."
Runsheng dumped the leftover cooked dishes from lunch into a pot and boiled up a large batch of mixed porridge.
Once they had eaten and drank their fill, the sky outside turned completely dark.
Yin Fuhai's coffin was placed onto the cart. Runsheng pulled at the front alone, Tan Wenbin pushed from behind, Yin Meng walked alongside the cart, and Li Zhuiyuan sat atop the coffin lid holding an umbrella.
It wasn't that the boy was putting on airs or being lazy; the road for a funeral burial was treacherous, and he needed a high vantage point to scout the way and plan their route.
A night burial, and in Ghost Street no less—if they blundered ahead blindly, heaven only knew what they might run into.
They were heading back tomorrow, and Li Zhuiyuan had no desire to encounter any surprise spectacles tonight.
Leaving the street, exiting the county, and passing through the village, the coffin was transported to the riverbank, the journey smooth and safe.
Ahead lay Nine-Bend Point, also called Nine Dragons' Bend by the locals. As the name implied, the river twisted and wound sharply here, filled with extreme bends.
Once past this bend, the rest of the river ran straight and true, flowing directly into the Yangtze.
In terms of feng shui, this place gathered momentum and formed a barrier, scouring silt while waiting to burst forth.
A water burial here signified washing away the dust of mortal life, cleansing all karma.
Seeing the actual site, Li Zhuiyuan felt a slight tinge of strangeness.
Properly speaking, this wasn't actually an ideal spot for a water burial.
In the eyes of ordinary people, the departed ought to find peaceful rest, but this terrain spoke of traveling light on a long journey.
If chosen as a place for a newborn to receive baptism and blessing, or for a coming-of-age ceremony, it would have been far more fitting.
On the shore, Tan Wenbin set up the offering table.
Li Zhuiyuan looked toward Yin Meng. "Do you know how to recite the eulogy?"
Yin Meng spread her hands, thoroughly accustomed to such responses today. "No, I don't know any of that."
Li Zhuiyuan suddenly felt as though he were getting the short end of the stick. He was practically sitting the rites as a presiding adept for the old man.
Yet this service hadn't been part of the original transaction.
Li Zhuiyuan stepped up to the offering table, pointed to the ground beside him, and said to Yin Meng, "Hold the incense and kneel here."
"Right, okay."
Yin Meng was very obedient. She lit the incense sticks, knelt down, and held them above her head with both hands.
Li Zhuiyuan made a gesture to Runsheng. Runsheng pushed the coffin on the shore into the water.
Yet the coffin did not drift downstream with the current; it lingered right by the bank.
Li Zhuiyuan lit the yellow spirit paper with a candle, waving it through the air before scattering the burning sheets in waves—some into the sky, some onto the ground, and some into the river.
By the lingering glow of the flames, Li Zhuiyuan braced both hands against the offering table. His eyelids lowered slightly, his body swaying faintly as he began to chant the eulogy.
The first half of the eulogy was entirely devoted to praising Yin Changsheng—the so-called Emperor of Fengdu.
This part Li Zhuiyuan recited straight from memory based on the notes in the genealogy; there was no need to change anything.
The latter half required recounting the deceased's life. That could not be copied; it had to fit the specific circumstances of the departed.
Only, there was really nothing to boast about concerning the old man. Not only had he failed to expand and glorify the family heritage, but it had nearly died out in his hands.
If One-Eyed Granny hadn't struck first and poisoned the pair, the old man would have shouldered the karmic burden of wiping out an entire household. The Heavenly Dao cared nothing for one's secret griefs or private justifications.
Since his life lacked notable achievements or highlights, the only virtue Li Zhuiyuan could praise was "conscientiousness and diligence."
To pad out the eulogy, Li Zhuiyuan described this single point from multiple facets and various angles, repeating it thoroughly.
Once he felt it was sufficient, Li Zhuiyuan moved to the conclusion, which was also the most critical step.
The boy took a deep breath, then leaned forward, slipping into a state of partially walking the yin path.
His voice no longer resonated merely in reality; it carried across into another intangible, invisible world.
"Li Zhuiyuan, on behalf of filial child Yin Meng,
"Bows to petition the Emperor of Fengdu:
"Settle the Yellow Springs, govern the Yin Bureau, throw open the Nether Gates.
"Receive
"Son of the Yin clan, Yin Fuhai,
"To return to Fengdu, to tread the path of rebirth, and enter the realm of supreme bliss."
Li Zhuiyuan tilted his head back, ending the walk on the yin path. He then told Yin Meng beside him, "Kowtow."
Yin Meng immediately bowed her head toward the river surface, performing the rites.
The ceremony was complete.
A wind rose across the riverbank, so chilling and uncanny that even an ordinary person would notice its unnatural cold.
The next instant, the coffin—which had seemed reluctant to leave the world of the living—finally broke away from the bank and drifted out into the river's depths.
Tan Wenbin watched intently and appeared to spot something. One hand clamped over his mouth to choke back a scream while the other hammered frantically on Runsheng's arm.
Runsheng understood what Binbin meant; he saw it too. Beneath the coffin, four dark shadows surfaced in the water.
The shadows grew increasingly solid. The coffin gradually lifted clear of the water's surface as the shadows underneath solidified into four substantial, ghostly figures. Bearing the coffin upon their shoulders, they marched forward through the river.
Runsheng sniffed the air. A thick stench of drowned corpses filled his nostrils.
The four bearers carrying the coffin appeared to be dead-flippers.
Li Zhuiyuan watched the scene as well, seeing even more than Runsheng did. For instance, these four pallbearers were likely corpses that had drowned in this river years or decades ago, never swept away by the current but buried deep beneath the silt and sand of the riverbed.
Now they had all "revived," like conscripted laborers summoned on short notice to serve as pallbearers.
This once again proved Li Zhuiyuan's earlier suspicion: this ghost city of Fengdu truly possessed a uniqueness all its own.
At the same time, it indirectly corroborated another hypothesis: when Yin Changsheng consumed the corpse elixir and "ascended to immortality," that "immortal" state was likely the exact opposite of its literal meaning.
And those dozens of fellow Daoists whom Yin Changsheng claimed he only saw after becoming an immortal—those who disliked stepping out and lived in deep seclusion—were very likely not ethereal, transcendent masters, but formidable, terrifying dead-flippers.
He wondered whether they ever communicated in private... and whether he would have the chance to come into contact with them in the future.
*Cock-a-doodle-doo!—*
Though daybreak was still far off, a high-pitched rooster's crow echoed from somewhere nearby.
The sun was not summoned forth, but an eerie swath of red bloomed across the clouds overhead, casting an overwhelmingly gloomy and oppressive glow over the riverbank and the water.
The phenomenon vanished in a flash, so swift that one might have dismissed it as a momentary trick of the eyes.
Then, the coffin—which had drifted far off yet remained visible—vanished completely.
Tan Wenbin propped his hands on Runsheng's shoulders and hopped up and down several times. "Huh? Where'd it go? Did it sink?"
"He was received," Runsheng replied.
Li Zhuiyuan gripped the offering table, his forehead beaded with sweat, taking deep breath after deep breath.
Yin Meng scrambled up from the ground and asked with concern, "Xiao Yuan... Ge, are you all right?"
She felt terribly guilty, assuming the boy had exhausted himself helping arrange her grandfather's funeral.
In reality, after learning the Yin family's Twelve Arts and patching up his most fundamental weakness, Li Zhuiyuan no longer suffered nosebleeds as easily as before.
His current state stemmed from profound lingering dread.
Just moments ago, brief as the window had been, he had almost entered the yin path to rush ahead and "take a look."
The moment that thought surfaced, an enormous sense of crisis seized him.
It felt as though doing so would bring him face-to-face with true terror.
After all these years, when a member of the Yin family died, they could still summon four ghosts to carry the coffin and guide the soul. That proved the underlying mechanism had not collapsed.
Did this mean that Yin Changsheng, the Emperor of Fengdu... was still there?
Closing his eyes, Li Zhuiyuan swallowed hard. When he opened them again, his breathing had steadied.
He turned to face the direction of Fengdu's Ghost Street, the shock in his eyes replaced by a faint spark of excitement.
*How wonderful that you are still around.*
*This world really is growing more interesting by the day.*
The boy felt at ease, confident that even after he grew up, life would never be dull or tedious.
***
Packing up their belongings, the four returned to the coffin shop on Ghost Street.
After the clearance sale, the shop was practically empty. Everyone had to make do with bedding on the floor for the night; with the coffins gone, they actually missed them quite a bit.
The next morning, the four took their luggage and boarded a boat at the Ghost Street pier.
There was no need to go back to Wanzhou; from here, they would head straight for Shancheng.
Yin Meng stood at the bow, watching the river part beneath her feet.
Standing at the stern with lingering reluctance was Li Zhuiyuan.
It was like tasting a renowned dish: just a small bite left an endless aftertaste, keeping his anticipation burning bright.
Though he knew it was courting death, he believed that when he grew older and the time was ripe, he would return to this ghost city once more to unearth the secrets at its core.
The pier faded into the distance, the streets faded, the mountains faded, but the future was drawing closer step by step.
Upon returning to Shancheng, Li Zhuiyuan called Xue Liangliang.
Xue Liangliang told the boy that the restoration of the bamboo slips would take quite some time. Once he finished his current project and returned to Jinling, he would bring the restored slips with him and deliver them to the boy in Nantong in person.
Without lingering in Shancheng, the four went to the train station and bought return tickets.
Only this time, without Xue Liangliang's connections, they could only secure hard-sleeper tickets—six people to a compartment, and not a single lower berth among them.
Even though Li Zhuiyuan was still small, lying in the hard sleeper felt cramped.
The other three had it worse; their berths were meant only for lying down, not sitting up, leaving them trapped in uncomfortable contortions.
Aside from sleeping at night, the three preferred spending their time in the corridor outside.
Tan Wenbin repeatedly reminded Yin Meng not to give away food or drinks on the train and to avoid excessive contact with strangers.
The little girl in red from their last trip had left too deep a shadow; no one wanted to deal with another ungrateful white-eyed wolf.
By the time they arrived at Nantong station, it was past midnight. The few taxis and unlicensed cabs outside turned them down upon hearing they were heading for the countryside.
Left with no choice, Tan Wenbin went to a phone booth and paged Tan Yunlong.
The four sat waiting by the curb for a while until a pickup truck smelling strongly of seafood pulled up before them.
Tan Yunlong flicked his cigarette butt out the window and urged, "Hurry up and get in! I need to return this truck fast—they need it to pick up inventory in the morning."
By the time the pickup rolled into Siyuan Village, the sky was already light.
As the truck came to a stop, Tan Yunlong looked at his son. "Come home with me. Your mother misses you."
"It's fine. I'll go back tomorrow. Let Mom enjoy the happy anticipation of our reunion for one more day."
With that, without waiting for his father to curse him out, Tan Wenbin leaped out of the truck first.
While the others were still grabbing their luggage, he was already waving both arms and sprinting eagerly toward the house, shouting as he ran:
"Grandpa Li! Grandpa Li!"
From the courtyard came Li Sanjiang's knowing chuckle and feigned annoyance:
"Who's making a racket this early in the morning?"
"It's Zhuangzhuang! Zhuangzhuang is back!"
Chapter 70