Volume 1 Chapter 44 Aunt Hua

After coming down the mountain, Master Ma made a special trip to check on Liu Dakui's household. The old man was already lying down, and Master Ma instructed, "Tie up his legs, just put the lid on the coffin, and clean up the place. It's too messy, and it won't be easy for the old gentleman to make his journey."

Liu Dakui nodded repeatedly.

Master Ma continued, "Prepare two large roosters, and find eight sun-facing peach tree branches, each a foot long and an inch thick, with one end sharpened. Also, make me a wooden mallet out of peach wood, roast it by the stove for half a day, and get twenty-one meters of thin, sturdy thread, measured out in advance."

"Right, right."

"Just come and pick me up on the day the old man is buried. Handle the funeral arrangements however you see fit. I'm leaving now."

Liu Dakui urged Master Ma to stay for a meal, but Master Ma refused. When Liu Dakui offered to drive him back personally, Master Ma said his place was a mess and could not do without someone in charge, telling him to just find any old four-wheel tractor.

Master Ma could be considered Liu Dakui's benefactor, so Liu Dakui handed the keys to a young man and told him to drive us back.

Liu Dakui also handed over a stack of cash, amounting to at least ten thousand yuan. Master Ma refused it, saying that what was tossed at his house that morning was already enough.

Master Ma was truly imposing and commanded absolute respect. He had scolded the driver of the sedan until he cowered like a grandson. In my eyes, Master Ma was an absolute idol.

Right before leaving, Master Ma leaned down close to my ear.

Thinking he was about to impart some profound wisdom, I calmed my mind and listened intently. To my surprise, he whispered, "Kid, do you see those loose cigarettes on the plate? Grab two handfuls for your master."

A surge of anger flared up inside me. I thought to myself, *What happened to all that majestic air you were putting on just a moment ago?*

Seeing that I didn't move, Master Ma gave me another flick on the forehead.

Gitting my teeth in exasperation, I stuffed both pockets of my trousers with cigarettes.

Upon returning home, Master Ma instantly transformed into Lin Daiyu. Reclining lazily on the heated brick bed, a cigarette dangling from his lips, he drawled, "Son, your master is hungry. Whip up some cornmeal porridge."

"People offered you a spread of fish and meat, and you wouldn't eat."

"You silly boy, they were all flustered and busy. How could they have the time to look after the two of us? Best not to add to their trouble."

I thought to yourself, *So adding trouble to me is just fine then?*

I groped the white envelope Liu Dakui had left on the brick bed. There was at least two thousand yuan inside.

That was the first time I, Xu, had ever laid eyes on so much money. Back in the early 2000s, two thousand yuan was a fortune.

Master Ma was quite generous too. He pulled out a hundred-yuan bill and said, "Spend it sparingly. If it runs out, I'll give you more."

"Alright, Master, I'll go make your food right now."

That was a hundred-yuan bill! Usually, the sixty yuan given by the bereaved family for keeping vigil would be kept by Master Ma, and he would only dispense coins to me here and there. For someone like me, a hundred yuan was heavenly wealth.

As I was tending the fire, Liu Dakui arrived, delivering four dishes by car—all substantial, hearty dishes. He said there was no need to cook and that he would have them delivered from then on.

Master Ma was as unyielding as ever. "Dakui, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Once you've properly settled matters at home, you can bring things over. Otherwise, I won't care about your family's affairs anymore. Go back and cut out the unnecessary fuss; just run the funeral as it should be run."

Liu Dakui felt somewhat embarrassed. With an honest chuckle, he said, "Alright, alright, Master Ma, I've noted it down."

Around eight o'clock the next morning, Liu Dakui came by. "My dad has been cremated, and we're ready for the burial. I've come to pick you up to guide the way."

Master Ma and I had been ready for a long time. We got straight into the car and left.

We headed straight for Liu Dakui's family ancestral graves. The funeral procession was quite large. Following Master Ma's instructions, some people carried the roosters, others held the white rope, and someone else carried a bucket of water.

Naturally, those tasks were left to others. Liu Dakui carried the soul banner, and Dakui's eldest sister held the cinerary casket.

After climbing the mountain, Master Ma kept his head tilted up, watching the sun. Waiting until the sunlight was sufficiently strong, he took the peach wood spike in his left hand and the peach wood mallet in his right, hammering away to set up a Bagua diagram near the grave of Liu Dakui's grandfather.

Master Ma instructed, "Put the rope into the bucket, kill the chickens, and let the blood flow into the bucket until the rope is completely soaked."

The crowd did as they were told.

The large roosters flapped about, letting out hoarse, dying cries—a brutal sight, yet somehow it made my mouth water.

Master Ma reached into his pocket and fished out a packet of pink powder of unknown origin, which he also poured into the bucket of chicken blood. After stirring it a few times with a branch, Master Ma pulled out the rope.

It was the same kind of thin twine used for sealing grain sacks. Master Ma pinched it with his fingers, tied a knot, looped one end over the peach wood stake, and began weaving the Bagua diagram along the stakes.

Everyone present watched in hushed silence, not even daring to breathe too heavily.

Before long, the Daoist priest had finished weaving the Bagua diagram. The craftsmanship resembled the string figures played in childhood—embodying Yin and Yang, complete with two large circles.

It looked rather impressive.

Master Ma said, "Alright, you can proceed with the burial as usual."

Master Ma did not rush off. He quietly watched the crowd lower the casket into the ground, occasionally offering guidance whenever something seemed amiss.

After descending the mountain, firecrackers were going off in the courtyard as the banquet began.

Liu Dakui tried to offer more money, but Master Ma declined, saying the previous amount was enough and a meal would suffice. However, he insisted on taking the two chickens with him; having died at the graveyard, they were tainted with Yin energy, which wasn't good for ordinary people to consume.

No boasting here—I, Xu, have a strong stomach. I'm afraid of no energy whatsoever. Toss in some mushrooms and stew them, and damn it, they would all smell heavenly.

Unsurprisingly, Master Ma drank quite a bit. With the affairs concluded and the villagers showering him with flattery, Master Ma downed three consecutive cups of white liquor.

Yet I was certain he wasn't completely drunk, because right before leaving, he once again asked me to grab two handfuls of cigarettes.

Master Ma was wonderful in every way, except that whenever he got drunk, he loved to ramble on and on, and he expected someone to play the straight man to his comedic routine. I really couldn't be bothered.

So, being clever in my own way, when Dakui arranged for someone to drive Master Ma home, I quietly told the driver to take him straight to the young widow's house instead.

I genuinely wonder how Master Ma thanked me once he sobered up.

The widow's household was quite interesting too. Tomorrow, I shall tell all you benevolent patrons about it.

Whenever widows are mentioned, my memories flow endlessly like the mighty waters of the Yangtze River.

As it turned out, the day I brought the Daoist priest to the widow's place, even she was taken aback for a moment. She asked, "What's wrong with your master?"

"He's drunk. I was afraid I couldn't handle him by myself."

When Master Ma stepped out of the car and saw where he was, he was bewildered as well. Slurring his words, he mumbled, "What are we doing here? Let's go, back to the village, back to our village."

I handed the driver a cigarette and offered a few pleasantries to send him on his way first.

Master Ma was displeased, muttering, "Why did the car leave?"

The widow smoothly stepped in to support Master Ma. Only then did I take a careful look at this young widow.

Master Ma was in his early fifties, while the widow was not yet forty. She possessed delicate, pretty features, with hair as dark as pitch.

Her eyebrows were slender and long, her eyes large, and her skin fair and lovely, though her face bore the gentle traces of time. She smiled easily, crinkling the corners of her eyes into charming crow's feet.

The widow was not particularly tall—just over five feet, probably a little under five feet and six inches.

Among her peers, her looks were definitely above average.

As I stood there daydreaming, Master Ma gave me a flick on the forehead. "Damn it, greet her! Call her Aunt Hua."

Being young at the time and rather shy, I lowered my head and murmured, "Hello, Aunt Hua."

"Right, right, come on inside."

Master Ma pointed at the two dead roosters on the ground and said, "These two large roosters are treasures. They've been through a ritual and are great for restoring vitality. Stew them up for the kid later."

I thought to myself that Master Ma truly knew how to tailor his words to his audience. Just earlier, he had claimed these chickens were bad for ordinary people to eat. With a smile, I said, "Master, I'm not hungry yet."

"Who said anything about you eating them?"

Aunt Hua chimed in, "Hurry up, come inside. Don't just stand about in the courtyard."