Das Leben der Landbevölkerung in der Stadt während der Song-Dynastie

Kapitel 63

06

The clan chief, Wang Weili, is eighty-eight years old. Despite his thin appearance, he has a somewhat otherworldly air about him.

"Night burial? This has been the rule since I was a child. No talking is allowed during the burial procession." Wang Weili thanked Yu Guang for the Dragon and Phoenix cigarettes, took a sip of tea, and said solemnly to Yu Guang and the others who were taking notes.

"That was during the Republic of China era. I was just a child. Once, after catching loaches in the pond, I returned home late at night. The woods back then were more numerous and denser than they are now. The mountain path was quiet when I suddenly noticed a light coming from ahead. I looked up and almost peed my pants in fright." The room was completely silent; you could hear a pin drop. Everyone listened intently as the clan chief recounted his past stories.

Wang Weili exhaled a puff of smoke, his face hidden behind the smoke, becoming increasingly blurry.

"I saw a man waving a torch in front, followed by eight people carrying a coffin. The entire funeral procession was completely silent, except for the soft rustling of footsteps. I had never seen anything like it before. I didn't know what it was, and I wanted to ask, but I couldn't utter a word because of the tightness in my chest. Luckily, I didn't speak then, or I would have been the next one to die a violent death. The funeral procession all kept their eyes down, staring at the cobblestone path, completely ignoring me standing by the roadside. There was no sound of voices or cries; it was terrifying. I held my breath and let the funeral procession pass, then ran home as fast as I could. Only then did I feel my legs go weak, and I collapsed to the ground. My old mother saw me and asked what happened. She laughed and said it was a night burial. I was so frightened that I slept at home for several days. Later, we invited a 'flower-viewing woman' to scatter rice, and only then did I come to my senses..." The clan chief's face was filled with shock as he recounted this, as if he were still shaken after all these years, as if the scene from eighty years ago was still playing out before his eyes.

Yu Guang gestured for Weng Beibei to carefully write down the old clan chief's words. He knew this was a sample of the most primitive funeral customs, with immense research value. Wang Weili coughed, spat out a mouthful of phlegm, and continued, "Later, the years of war and chaos arrived. Soldiers were stationed in the town, and every few days they would spend two or three hours crossing the mountain roads to conscript men from our Evil Curse Village. Anyone who refused would be punished with a single peanut. As a result, many people in the village died violently. We got used to night burials after a while. I went from watching others attend funerals to becoming a coffin bearer myself, and later I even learned to be a geomancer. Fortunately, as long as you didn't make a sound during the funeral procession, there wouldn't be any bad karma. Now I'm old and can no longer attend funerals, but the rules set by our ancestors cannot be broken. We must still do what is proper."

As if remembering something, he suddenly asked Yu Guang, "Oh, by the way, are you going to join the night burial procession tonight?"

Yu Guang nodded.

Wang Weili frowned: "Young people, I advise you not to go. The Cursed Village is very evil. You don't know the rules. If you make a sound on the road, no one can save you."

Not wanting to miss this opportunity to investigate, Yu Guang quickly replied, "We will absolutely not make a sound and will definitely respect your local customs. We are here for scientific research purposes and will never do anything to make things difficult for you." After leaving the chieftain's thatched hut, Yu Guang said to his three students, "Did you hear that? When you go to the night burial tonight, you must not say a word. You can only observe and remember."

"Tch..." Shen Tian replied, "I know, I won't say anything."

Before he could finish speaking, he saw someone waving at him from a corner of the long street. Upon closer inspection, it was Wang Mingsheng, one of the coffin bearers from that night, his junior from school. Wang Mingsheng was hiding in the shadows of a thatched-roof house, looking around cautiously, and furtively gesturing to Shen Tian and Wu Yong, beckoning them over. Wu Yong explained to Yu Guang, and then he and Shen Tian walked towards Wang Mingsheng.

Yu Guang shook his head and led Weng Beibei toward the Zhao family mansion villa outside the village. The Zhao family mansion was built on the hillside outside the village, following the contours of the mountain, with green tiles and blue bricks, and white walls. Several tall willow trees were planted inside the walls, their leaves swaying and fluttering outside, giving a refreshing feeling.

A pair of granite lions stood on either side of the brass gate, and two animal-head door knockers hung on the door. Yu Guang knocked on the door knockers; they made a few muffled but resonant sounds. After a while, an elderly man in his fifties, dressed in hemp clothing, opened the door.

"Are you Mr. Zhao?" Yu Guang asked, handing over his business card.

The old man glanced at the business card and then said respectfully, "So you're Professor Yu from the city university. Mr. Zhao went to town early this morning to send a manuscript to the publishing house at the local internet cafe. He left at six in the morning, and if all goes well, he should be back around five in the afternoon. I'm the housekeeper here; my surname is Chen, you can just call me Old Chen."

A hint of disappointment flashed across Yu Guang's eyes. He replied, "Oh, so Mr. Zhao isn't here. We came to investigate the funeral customs of the Night Burial in the Cursed Village, and also to bother Mr. Zhao. Since you're not here, the Night Burial will depart at eight o'clock tonight. We'll come back to see you around six o'clock tonight."

“Alright,” Old Chen said, “Then please come again tonight. I will inform Mr. Zhao and prepare dinner for tonight. Please join us for dinner.” Yu Guang and Weng Beibei left the Zhao family mansion with a sense of loss.

Section 3

07

As soon as Shen Tian and Wu Yong approached Wang Mingsheng, he said mysteriously, "Let's go back to my home. I have something very important to tell you."

"Can't we talk here? We still need to go to the Zhao family mansion." Shen Tian was a little unhappy.

“We can’t find Mr. Zhao even if we go to the Zhao family mansion now. He left early this morning, and even if he goes as fast as he can, he won’t be back until five or six o’clock tonight. Besides, I really have something very, very important to tell you.” Wang Mingsheng said with a sincere expression.

“Alright…” Wu Yong conceded. Sitting in Wang Mingsheng’s musty mud house, Shen Tian was the first to lose patience and asked, “What exactly do you want to tell us?”

Wang Mingsheng coughed and said, "It's about the deceased Lü Guihua."

"Lü Guihua?" Shen Tian and Wu Yong exclaimed in unison. "Wasn't it said that she committed suicide by drowning?" Wu Yong asked.

“Impossible! Lü Guihua has been married into the Cursed Village for several years. She’s not the kind of person who would commit suicide at the slightest upset. When she first gave birth, she would breastfeed in the threshing ground with her clothes open. If the village men teased her, she would chase after them with her chest half-exposed. How could a woman like that commit suicide?” Wang Mingsheng stated his opinion.

Wu Yong found it rather boring: "Isn't this viewpoint a bit far-fetched?"

Shen Tian continued, "Yes, it's said that her husband had an affair and wanted to come back to divorce her. When a woman encounters such a situation, she might get stuck in a rut and commit suicide, which is understandable."

"Impossible!" Wang Mingsheng said solemnly, "These are just what others say, but no one knows the truth. Her husband didn't even return to the village; he sent a letter from outside. The day Lü Guihua received the letter, she was laughing and joking around with the idle men in the village. But the next day, we heard that she had drowned herself, and the letter was found in her house. I have my suspicions!"

"What do you suspect?"

“That letter was forged; she was murdered!” Wang Mingsheng said definitively. “What makes you say that?” Wu Yong asked curiously; he was always interested in anything that might involve a crime.

"As far as I know, her husband's name is Wang Jiaqiang, and he also has the surname Wang. Jiaqiang is the kind of guy who won't utter a sound even if you beat him with a stick, so I would never believe he's having an affair!"

"Men change when they're out in the outside world," Shen Tian said with a wry smile.

"Impossible! Even if everyone changes, Brother Jiaqiang won't! I know his character!" Wang Mingsheng retorted angrily, "When I first entered university, before Brother Jiaqiang went to the south, he would come to the school every week to improve my meals. He's such a kind person; to say he's involved with a wild woman is absolutely impossible!" "Alright, alright, even if we believe you. Then tell me, who would kill Lü Guihua?" Wu Yong asked.

"To be honest, although Sister Guihua often jokes around with the idle men in the village, it's just a matter of letting them have their way with her. If anyone really tries anything, she's very strong-willed. I suspect that someone tried to take advantage of Sister Guihua, but she refused and ended up being poisoned."

"So who do you suspect?"

“Of course I have people I suspect, but without evidence, I can’t make any rash statements. I’ll investigate secretly. Once I find the evidence, I’ll make it public and ruin that hypocrite’s reputation!” Wang Mingsheng said fiercely. Leaving Wang Mingsheng’s house, Shen Tian said sullenly, “That guy, really, he’s showing off, without even mentioning who he suspects.”

"Heh." Wu Yong scoffed, "He's just speculating in the dark, he has no evidence. Let him get his comeuppance." Just then, they saw Professor Yu and Weng Beibei walking towards them from the end of the street, their faces grim.

"How is it? Have you seen Mr. Zhao? Our elementary school classmate just said that Mr. Zhao has left the village and won't be back until dusk," Shen Tian shouted gruffly.

"I know, you two bastards! You knew beforehand but didn't say anything, and now you're spouting hindsight. We've already wasted our time," Weng Beibei retorted irritably. She tossed her backpack to Shen Tian, who happily caught it.

"Let's go back to the model village chief's house for lunch. I've been busy all morning, I'm starving," Shen Tian said dramatically, rubbing his stomach with a frown.

"Hehe, who told you not to eat breakfast? There are so many dishes and rice, who can you blame if you don't eat them?" Wu Yong joked.

The four of them walked toward the home of village chief Wang Laomo, chatting and laughing.

08

The dishes on the table were the same as those from this morning. Wang Laomo took a puff of his pipe and asked, "Did you go to the Zhao family mansion this morning?"

"Hmm." Yu Guang nodded.

"The Zhao family mansion is located in a place with excellent feng shui. It faces north and sits on the south side, where two dragon veins intersect. Looking up, you can see the peaks on the opposite side converging, and you can also see a clear spring at the foot of the mountain. As the saying goes, with mountains and water, it's impossible for the family not to prosper and become wealthy."

"Really? Hehe, when we went there, Mr. Zhao had already left the village, so we didn't see him. We only saw a pair of stone lions at the entrance of his house, and we didn't pay attention to whether he could see the mountains and water opposite." Yu Guang said perfunctorily.

"I know that. He didn't have any stone lions there at first either. I went to take a look, and his place was where the dragon veins converged, with abundant yang energy. Without an emperor, it would be impossible to suppress this fire. So I gave Mr. Zhao a suggestion: to place a pair of stone lions to calm the energy. Sure enough, after he placed the lions, his inspiration flowed like a spring, and whatever he wrote was published," Wang Laomo said proudly.

"Hehe, you're really something." Yu Guang casually replied, adopting a "take it or leave it" attitude. "Speaking of Mr. Zhao, he's quite an extraordinary person," Wang Laomo continued, clicking his tongue. At this point, Yu Guang also became interested and pricked up his ears to listen to the village chief's ramblings.

"Mr. Zhao isn't very old, only in his thirties, but he writes excellent articles. He just sits in front of the computer and can make money just by typing. It's truly enviable!"

Yu Guang couldn't help but chuckle. Hearing the village chief envy Mr. Zhao for being able to make money by typing on a keyboard, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself that the villagers only saw how easy it was for Mr. Zhao to make money, but didn't see the hardships he had endured while studying hard.

Model worker Wang continued rambling, "Mr. Zhao is also an excellent marksman. He goes hunting in the forest whenever he has free time. Once, I was setting traps to catch badgers in the forest, and through the leaves, I saw him firing into the air, killing birds with every shot, not missing a single bullet. It's a pity he doesn't eat bird meat; he just hunts for fun. Whatever he catches, he exchanges it for alcohol in town when he leaves the mountains. Today, he went out of the village to town; he must have taken a lot of game with him again. I bet he has a whole sack full."

Yu Guang interrupted Wang Laomo out of curiosity and asked, "What's this Mr. Zhao's name?"

"His name is Zhao Lianpu, right?"

"Oh... so it was him..." Yu Guang exclaimed in admiration, and Wu Yong also became excited.

Zhao Lianpu is a well-known columnist in the city, a skilled writer. Even more outstanding are his detective novels, with intricately linked plots, endless suspense, and tight reasoning. Every book he writes tops the bestseller lists. Wu Yong's detective novel association even held a special discussion on Zhao's works, and he tried to contact Zhao Lianpu to give a lecture at the school, but couldn't find his contact information. It's hard to believe that Zhao was living in seclusion in such a remote mountain village. Knowing this now is an unexpected bonus. After lunch, Wang Laomo told the four members of the expedition team to rest. Because their arrival was rushed yesterday, they had only been given makeshift beds in the main room. Now, Wang Laomo had prepared two guest rooms: a small room for Weng Beibei, and a large room for the other three men.

While Yu Guang went to the outhouse, Wu Yong said to Shen Tian, "This afternoon, we must go to Teacher Zhao Lianpu's house. I must personally visit my idol. We'll also see if we can invite him to give a lecture at our school when he has time. If we can get him to come, it will definitely cause a sensation at the school."

“Hmm, I read in the newspaper that he’s a handsome writer, but his photos have never been published in the media, and he never attends book signings or interviews. He’s a very mysterious writer. Just because of his low-key way of life, I’ll have to pay him a visit.” Shen Tian also looked on with admiration.

"Then you two should stop talking nonsense. We're going to the Zhao family mansion this afternoon, and we also have to inspect the night burial tonight. Now hurry up and lie down for a while, otherwise you won't have any energy at all tonight." Yu Guang entered the room and said to his two proud disciples with a smile.

Yu Guang drew the black cotton curtains, and the room immediately became dark.

Sure enough, after being bothered by mosquitoes all night, I was immediately overcome with sleepiness. Before long, the sound of several people snoring could be heard in the room.

09

At 5:30, Wang Laomo woke up the four men. The five of them walked together toward the Zhao family mansion, a villa on the hillside outside the village.

As I approached the gate of the mansion, I glanced back deliberately. Sure enough, bathed in the glow of the setting sun, two rolling mountains met in the distance, their meeting point marked by a lake reflecting shimmering light. The water shimmered with an orange-red hue, moving slowly like fish scales. Green trees, golden sunlight, and white lake water blended together, creating an atmosphere of peace and tranquility.

Wang Laomo knocked on the animal-head ring, and after a few deep knocks, the door opened. Old Chen stood inside and said respectfully, "Welcome, welcome. Mr. Zhao has returned and is waiting for you in his study. Dinner won't be ready for a while, so let me take you to have a chat with Mr. Zhao first."

Inside the door was a winding corridor, with an artificial lotus pond on both sides. The pond was covered with emerald green lotus leaves, among which several white or bright red lotus flowers stood gracefully among the leaves, and a few dragonflies flitted about in the pond.

Old Chen walked at the front. He had a slight limp in one leg, so he walked with an uneven gait, and his footsteps on the floor were uneven in weight.

After passing through the corridor, you will find a Chinese-style villa.

To the left of the villa was a small mud-walled house with its door tightly locked, but the low barking of a wolfhound could be faintly heard from inside.

Hearing the dog's low bark, Weng Beibei's heart tightened, and her steps became unsteady. Old Chen turned around and seemed to notice Weng Beibei's unease. He quickly shouted, "Blackie! Shut up! We have important guests, what are you barking for? It's not like a thief has come!" He emphasized the word "thief," as if it had a deeper meaning. Strangely enough, the wolfhound locked in the small earthen house seemed to understand Old Chen's words and immediately quieted down. In the study, seeing Zhao Lianpu, Yu Guang, and the others, they were all taken aback.

Zhao Lianpu is a well-known mystery novelist who has been famous for several years. But seeing him in person, no one would have guessed that he is so young.

Zhao Lianpu looked to be in his early thirties at most, with long, flowing hair cascading down his shoulders. He wore rimless glasses, and his face was so thin it looked as if it had been carved by a knife. His eyes were bloodshot from years of working night shifts, and his eye circles were slightly swollen. On his desk sat a laptop, with a Word document open without any regard for the surroundings. At a glance, the bold title "Night Burial" was clearly visible.

Wu Yong asked curiously, "Teacher Zhao, are you also interested in the folk funeral custom of night burial?"

"Hehe." Zhao Lianpu smiled slightly: "How could I possibly understand the custom of night burial as thoroughly as experts like you? I just live here, so I have some knowledge of night burial. I plan to move the scene of a murder story to a secluded mountain village, and night burial is just the right background to set it up."

"Amazing! Amazing! No wonder you're Teacher Zhao," Shen Tian exclaimed.

"No, no..."

"So, what is Professor Zhao's view on the folk custom of night burial?" Wu Yong steered the conversation toward a topic that Yu Guang was also interested in.

Zhao Lianpu took a sip of tea and said, "Actually, I don't care about the origin of folk customs; I only care about the phenomenon. I just use this phenomenon as a prop in my writing, letting the phenomenon serve my story. It's that simple."

Yu Guang smiled: "Indeed, indeed, Mr. Zhao has hit the nail on the head. We historians are really not very interesting; we're always trying to figure out the ins and outs of certain events from years ago, but in reality, even if we understood them, it wouldn't bring any benefit to our economic or social lives. We're just some middle-aged men rummaging through piles of old books. But there's no other way; our current research topic is to understand all aspects of the custom of night burial. If we can achieve any results, if we can add even a few details to Mr. Zhao's novel, then our work will have some practical significance. Hehe..."

Zhao Lianpu quickly replied, "Professor Yu, you're too modest, haha..."

"Oh, right, Teacher Zhao." Wu Yong suddenly remembered a question: "You have a laptop here and a telephone at home, why don't you use the telephone line to send the manuscript instead of walking five hours through the mountains to an internet cafe outside the town? It's such a waste of time."

Zhao Lianpu smiled and replied, "I know it's convenient to send files from home, but staying home all the time will make you rusty. Taking a walk on a mountain path and feeling the mountain breeze not only clears your mind and opens your thoughts, but it's also the best form of exercise. At an internet cafe, I can send over 100,000 words to a publisher in less than a minute with QQ. At home with this crappy dial-up connection, watching the transfer speed stagnate, I'd be even more annoyed. Hehe..." The atmosphere of the conversation instantly became harmonious and pleasant. In the gentle breeze and light rain, Old Chen entered the house and said to the people inside, "Mr. Zhao, the food is ready. Please take your seats, guests."

"Good, good, good." Zhao Lianpu stood up and led everyone into the dining room. Behind the screen depicting the Three Friends of Winter (pine, bamboo, and plum) was a large round mahogany table. There weren't many dishes on the table, but they were all exquisite. Stir-fried bamboo shoots, green peppers with corn, shredded pork with chili peppers, whole duck soup with wolfberries, pan-fried tofu, twice-cooked pork with chili peppers... The dishes were light yet nutritious, and the aroma wafted through the room, filling it with fragrance.

Yu Guang and the others couldn't help but feel their saliva welling up under their tongues, and their appetites were instantly whetted.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my old housekeeper, Old Chen, used to be a renowned chef at the Fenglai Restaurant in the city, a master of cooking. You're all in for a treat today!" Zhao Lianpu said, urging everyone to begin their meal. He politely dipped his spoon into the duck soup...

Just then, the phone rang suddenly at the corner of the stairs next to the dining room. Like a thunderclap, Weng Beibei lost her grip on her chopsticks and, startled, dropped them onto the table.

Section 4

10

Old Chen picked up the phone, said "hello," and then indicated that he was looking for Mr. Zhao.

Zhao Lianpu went to the next room and made a call. His voice was low, but it was still faintly audible that he was arguing with someone from the publishing house about royalties. Zhao Lianpu didn't return to the dining room; he remained on the phone. Old Chen...

With hands behind his back, he respectfully invited the guests to serve themselves.

By the time Yu Guang and the others had devoured all the food, Zhao Lianpu still hadn't returned.

Wang Laomo's face began to show anxiety. He could still vaguely hear Zhao Lianpu continuing to speak loudly next door, arguing with the other person. Although the room was well soundproofed, he could still intermittently hear Zhao Lianpu shouting, "No... I said it's ten percent, and it's ten percent... Don't give me that... There are plenty of publishing houses... It's not just you..."

Yu Guang chuckled to himself: "It seems that famous writers also have their own troubles."

Wang Laomo was getting restless, glancing repeatedly at his mechanical watch. He also remembered their important business that evening: they still needed to investigate the entire process of a night burial. It was almost seven o'clock. Wang Laomo stood up and said to Old Chen, "Could you please tell Mr. Zhao that we have to go? We need to go to conduct a night burial for Lü Guihua tonight."

"Lü Guihua?!" Old Chen frowned, his face contorting in surprise. "Is that the little wife who always cried and laughed? She's dead? Buried at night? Did she die a violent death?"

"Yes, things can change unexpectedly. Her husband had an affair and wanted a divorce. In a moment of despair, she took her own life," Wang Laomo explained.