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墨書 Inktalez
After finishing the series of actions, the village chief finally spoke up, "Actually, before Wu Xiufen came to marry, we already knew that her future husband, the Zhang Qiang she was supposed to marry at that time, was not long for this world. The elders all said he had a deathly pallor; he wouldn't live long."
I frowned, sensing there was more to this story than we knew.
"And then?" I asked, curious about what happened next.
The village chief casually tossed his cigarette butt onto the ground, licked his cracked lips, and said to us, "At that time, I was already an adult. Although I hadn't interacted much with Zhang Qiang, I often heard people talk about him. It seemed he had some lung issues; every evening he would cough so hard it sounded like he was about to cough up his lungs."
"Was it that serious?" I inquired.
The village chief nodded and clapped his hands. "Yes, even an ordinary person could tell that his health was poor. But Wu Xiufen didn’t seem to care. Later on, Zhang Qiang died of lung disease; I think it was cancer, but I'm not sure. Why would a wealthy and beautiful woman want to marry a man who was both poor and sickly?"
I rested my chin on my hand, speechless.
The village chief continued, "Some people had warned Wu Xiufen that marriage is a lifelong commitment and shouldn't be taken lightly. Although Zhang Qiang was from our village, we couldn't just stand by and watch a woman hand over her happiness to someone like him. But Wu Xiufen insisted on marrying him; it seemed her mind was made up. Isn’t that strange?"
"Strange," I nodded in agreement.
At that moment, the village chief's wife brought out several home-cooked dishes and bowls of rice soup. After running around, I realized I was quite hungry. It had also grown dark outside; everything in the distance appeared shadowy.
"Eat! Let's eat while I tell you more," the village chief gestured for us to dig in.
After some polite exchanges, my stomach's growling took precedence, and we didn't hold back any longer. Each of us grabbed a piece of bread and began eating while waiting for the village chief to continue.
The village chief took a few sips of rice soup, broke off a piece of bread, and said while chewing, "This is quite strange; no one really knows how those two got together. We had never seen Wu Xiufen before; it was as if she appeared out of thin air. We only met her a few times before she got married in a blur."
He swallowed the bread and continued eating the dishes. "But marriage is always a good thing. No matter what, as long as they seem to love each other, that's what matters. In marriage, love is more important than wealth or social status."
His wife sat beside him after finishing cooking and remarked, "Oh really? You think love is all that matters? Sounds quite romantic! Back then, our marriage was arranged by our families."
The village chief shot her a glare and replied, "Well, can anyone else compare to us? Our union is fate! It's destiny! It's truly rare..."
It seemed that the elderly couple was still very affectionate towards each other, showing their love in front of us without a hint of shyness.
The village chief smiled at his partner and continued, "So they got married. It wasn't long after the wedding that the man's parents passed away. Well, when you reach a certain age, it's normal. However, the couple never had any children, and the villagers loved to gossip."
We listened while eating.
The village chief took a sip of rice soup and said, "Some people say that Wu Xiufen couldn't have children, so no one wanted her, which is why she married Zhang Qiang. Others thought that with Zhang Qiang's cough being so severe, he probably couldn't fulfill his marital duties. But whatever the reason, they had no children."
"Later on, Zhang Qiang died," the village chief continued. "He passed away due to some lung issue when Wu Xiufen was around thirty years old. Afterward, quite a few bachelors didn't mind that Wu Xiufen was a second-time bride and wanted to marry her because she was still quite beautiful. However, Wu Xiufen turned them all down."
Sighing, the village chief added, "Eventually, some lonely old bachelors frequently sought out Wu Xiufen, but she kept her doors closed. Over time, those men dispersed. It's been over thirty years now; Wu Xiufen is in her sixties. Yet every year for over thirty years, she goes up the mountain to burn yellow paper for Zhang Qiang."
"Every year?" I furrowed my brow and asked seriously, "Are you sure? Every year?"
The village chief sighed again and replied, "Yes, every year. Initially, those who made light of it or tried to take advantage of her ended up feeling foolish. Who could maintain such persistence? The old lady has truly been unwavering through thick and thin. Now it's past six; she'll probably head up the mountain again around eight."
I glanced at my watch; it was indeed half past six.
After that, the village chief fell silent and focused on his meal, seemingly lost in thought.
However, after listening to the village chief's story, I felt something strange. While it’s natural for men and women to marry at a certain age, the oddity lay in this marriage. Although Wu Xiufen was from Dongxing City’s Old Town District, she wasn't from Xingdong Village, and the Red Mill Factory wasn't located in Xingdong Village either.
A woman arriving in an unfamiliar place with considerable money to marry a man she likely hadn't met many times before raised questions. Moreover, everyone knew that this man probably had only a few years left to live. So why would Wu Xiufen marry someone like him? There must have been some special purpose or reason behind it.
But what could that reason be?
After finishing dinner quietly, it was already seven o'clock. The light had dimmed completely; looking up from the courtyard revealed a gray sky with only a few twinkling stars blinking down at us. The spring night was slightly chilly as the village chief and his partner began to tidy up.
I greeted the village chief and realized I would likely need to stay at his house for the night. He readily agreed; there were plenty of rooms available in the village.
We stepped outside and waited near the pile of firewood by Grandma's door, anticipating her emergence to burn paper.
Time passed slowly, and the lights in the village gradually dimmed. The village streets were devoid of streetlights, enveloped in darkness where one could hardly see their hand in front of their face. We couldn’t turn on our lights either, feeling the moment stretch into an eternity. After an unknown duration, we heard a creaking sound.
We all perked up.
Wu Xiufen's wooden door creaked open, and she stepped out holding a stack of yellow paper. She closed the door behind her without locking it, seemingly unconcerned about anyone breaking in to steal. Wu Xiufen glanced around and, seeing no one, proceeded toward the mountains behind the village.
Gu Chen signaled us to follow; when it came to tracking, he was a master.
We kept a distance of about ten meters from Wu Xiufen, moving slowly and cautiously to avoid making any noise.
At that moment, a match struck in the darkness, and soon we saw a flicker of light in Wu Xiufen's hand. The flame was small; it appeared she wasn’t igniting all the yellow paper at once but lighting a few sheets at a time. As she walked forward, she tossed the partially burned yellow paper into the air.
The papers spun several times before gently falling to the ground and extinguishing.
As Wu Xiufen continued walking, she murmured words we couldn’t quite hear or understand, as if reciting some incantation.
We followed her through the darkness, watching as she burned the yellow paper and moved steadily ahead.
In the stillness of the deep night, households were preparing for sleep; the surroundings were pitch black. The chill of early spring winds occasionally swept through, causing shivers. The fluttering yellow papers danced in the air like ghostly flames, darting about.
An elderly figure clad in a black coat held a handful of yellow paper, murmuring words resembling scriptures. The sound of rustling branches stirred by the cold wind echoed eerily, as if whispers surrounded us from all directions.
The old woman walked quickly with brisk steps. As she scattered the yellow paper, she also used it to illuminate her path. Her route led up to the mountains behind the village, and she soon reached the foot of the mountain.
She paused for a moment at the foot of the mountain; the flame flickered in her hand, casting shadows behind her that resembled a clawing demon. We held our breath as she lingered for several moments before scattering more yellow paper on the ground and continuing onward.
We followed her up the mountain.
The old man pulled out a stack of black paper from his pocket and began to set it on fire.
We had never seen such a custom of burning black paper before, and we were unsure what Wu Xiufen was doing.
The more we watched, the more uneasy we felt, especially as Wu Xiufen knelt down. She moved forward on her knees, sobbing quietly and murmuring something we couldn't quite make out.
Our hearts mirrored Wu Xiufen's strange actions, rising and falling with each moment.
What was Wu Xiufen doing? Had she been doing this for over thirty years?
We exchanged glances in the dim light, seeing confusion and a hint of fear reflected in each other's eyes.
Finally, Wu Xiufen stopped.
We looked ahead and saw a tombstone, though we couldn't make out the words inscribed on it.
Wu Xiufen embraced the tombstone, seemingly saying something to it.
I leaned forward to get a better look but accidentally snapped a twig beneath me.
The sharp crack echoed in the stillness.
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