I quietly followed the funeral procession as they carried the coffin up the mountain. By the time we reached the cemetery, dawn had already broken.
Watching them chat and laugh along the way, completely at ease, I noticed the cemetery was set atop a hill covered only with low plants. Behind it flowed a wide river, and in front stretched a dense forest.
According to Old Qi, this was a site of 'Heavenly Brightness and Fertile Earth,' a formation that could bring fortune and longevity to the Wan family, attracting wealth and blessings.
The group was thoroughly exhausted. Some who still had energy started setting up, while a few others began preparing food.
Soon, those digging dug, those cooking cooked, and everyone busied themselves in an orderly fashion. Old Qi began preparing the burial rites. Only Tai'an, being young and having cried all day yesterday, had fallen asleep after walking all night.
“Old Qi, I’m telling you, you have to keep an eye on that Tai'an kid. His hands are even less clean than ours. So young and already like this—imagine when he grows up. His deadbeat father was a habitual thief and died miserably for stealing something he shouldn’t have. Sigh, Old Qi, you’re too soft-hearted, taking in such a disobedient one. We may not be saints, making a living off the dead, but at least we work for it and do things properly. He’s always thinking about the burial goods. Sooner or later, he’ll get us all into trouble.”
The only woman in her forties in the group started nagging. Old Qi frowned and looked at Tai'an sleeping in the distance, sighing deeply.
“Enough, go cook your food.”
I sat quietly to the side, watching Old Qi. His eyes were full of helplessness, but there was no regret. Soon, the others began chiming in, all complaining about Tai'an stealing things. Every time they told him to stop, he would say, ‘The dead don’t need money or treasures. Why not give them to me? I’ll repay you well when I’m gone.’ For someone so young, he always had a convincing argument, leaving everyone speechless. Old Qi was at his wits’ end.
“Keep a close eye on Tai'an later. That kid’s always eyeing the valuables in the coffin. The last time we opened it, the nails weren’t even secure. If we hammer them again, the coffin board might crack. If people see it’s just ordinary wood, we’re done for. Before the burial, add a few more coats of lacquer to keep the coffin from rotting in three years.”
Elder Quinn said this as he got back to work. I noticed that Tyson Warren, who was supposed to be napping nearby, was actually facing away from the group, about twenty meters off under a tree. He was only pretending to sleep. I quietly drifted over and crouched in front of him. Tyson puckered his lips in a look of disdain.
“You bunch of jerks, always talking behind my back. Hmph, what good is all that money to the dead? You might as well save it for me. When I grow up, I’ll live it up too—wouldn’t that be nice?”
I couldn't help but sigh. This kid was like a little adult—barely ten years old, but with a maturity that was almost comical in its childishness. Still, it wasn’t just Elder Quinn; everyone looked out for him. If he got tired, someone would carry him; if he was thirsty, someone would take him to find water; when he was bored, the adults would tell him jokes.
After a morning of hard work, the burial pit was finally dug. This time it was deep—over three meters. Some people were still using their tools to smooth out the grave.
"Time to eat."
Elder Quinn called out, and everyone gathered around to eat.
“Feeling down, Tyson? Here, have some meat.”
A tall man said this, passing a big chunk of meat from his bowl to Tyson. Tyson took it and stuffed it straight into his mouth, and some of the gloom on his face faded.
“Don’t spoil him like that.”
Elder Quinn muttered immediately.