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墨書 Inktalez
As An Shaojie slowly walked to the edge of the village, Bai Cuifen finally let out a sigh of relief. She turned around to head back to the house to help, only to find Qinglan standing behind her.
“Lanlan,” Bai Cuifen called out.
“Mm, Brother Shaojie is back, Mother. Please don’t say anything bad about him,” Qinglan pleaded with a hopeful look at Bai Cuifen.
Bai Cuifen smiled and said, “Silly child, Mother won’t say anything bad about him.”
Dinner had just begun when the Filial Sons and Grandsons had already put on their Mourning Garb. Close relatives and friends donned their Filial Cloth and knelt in front of the memorial hall, beginning to weep.
An Shaomin and An Shaojie were dressed in Mourning Garb of the same length as Qinglan and Liu Jiawei, clearly indicating that Qing Shusheng regarded them as his own children, just like Qinglan and Liu Jiawei.
Not long after An Shaojie took his seat, Jian Ming's figure appeared at the entrance of the village.
An Shaomin hurried into the courtyard and said to Bai Cuifen, “Mother, Jian Ming is here!”
“Ah, how did he come? How did he know?” Bai Cuifen was somewhat surprised.
The matter between Jian Ming and An Shaomin had not yet been confirmed through their elders, so she thought he could have chosen not to come.
Not only did Jian Ming come, but he also appeared very formal. He walked to the bridgehead and lit firecrackers, clearly acknowledging the customs of greeting relatives and friends. Upon entering the courtyard, he also offered incense in front of Liu Dezhou's memorial hall.
Since this was the case, the difficult task fell on Liu Xiuzhen. She asked Qing Shusheng, “What should we do? What kind of Filial Cloth should he wear?”
Qing Shusheng was also in a dilemma. He looked at Bai Cuifen; after all, this was a guest from Bai Cuifen's family. How to treat him depended on her decision.
Even though Bai Cuifen was an extremely clever woman who was polite and composed in her actions, she found herself somewhat troubled by this matter.
It couldn’t be too light or too heavy.
If it were too light, she worried it would belittle him. After all, he was still a child! Although he had already started working, having just graduated, in Bai Cuifen’s eyes, he was still like Qinglan and An Shaojie—he hadn’t completely shed his youthful innocence yet.
It’s too heavy, and that won’t do. Their parents have not yet acknowledged the Liu Family Village relatives!
“Don’t wear the Filial Cloth!” Bai Cuifen spoke up.
She intended to treat him as An Shaomin's classmate who happened to be at Qing Shusheng's family celebration.
However, Jian Ming disagreed, saying, “I am just like Shaw Min! Any relative of Shaw Min is my relative, and anyone who has cared for her deserves my gratitude and respect.”
Jian Ming, being a scholar from the city and now a teacher, spoke with seriousness and authority, which moved many people present.
Especially Bai Cuifen and An Shaomin.
His words publicly declared his unwavering support and shared fate with An Shaomin in front of everyone at Liu Family Village.
“Let’s give him the same Mourning Garb as Shaw Min!” Bai Cuifen spoke again.
Immediately, Jian Ming knelt before Liu Dezhou's memorial hall, right next to Liu Jiawei.
This was Liu Jiawei's first meeting with Jian Ming.
He had heard rumors from the villagers about a university student from the city who liked An Shaomin and claimed he would not pry into her past.
Liu Jiawei glanced at him sideways, scoffing internally, a sarcastic and disdainful smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
Of course, Jian Ming was unaware that this young man kneeling beside him, of similar age, was in some sense his enemy—the one who had harmed his dearest person. Yet now he regarded his relative as his own and knelt under the pure blue sky to honor the same relative.
Indeed, Jian Ming did not see anyone from Liu Family Village as an enemy.
Meanwhile, the person who was originally his enemy viewed him as one, secretly mocking him because he did not believe that after learning the truth, Jian Ming could still love the goddess in his heart.
So, he felt that the oath he had just taken in front of everyone in Liu Family Village would eventually become a big joke. All he could do was sneer.
By the afternoon, the people kneeling in front of Liu Dezhou had turned into a rotating duty, and the group that had previously been mourning rejoined their grieving relatives.
Especially by evening, right after dinner, the cries began to shake the heavens and earth, continuing until the time of the funeral arrived.
About ten minutes before the funeral, the crowd started to stir, and many people began to feel anxious. Especially Qing Shusheng, even though he had presided over many family events, this was his first time handling such a grand, solemn, and formal occasion at his own home. He was afraid of any slip-ups.
At this moment, Bai Cuifen and Liu Xiuzhen also began to get busy, constantly shouting to prepare things.
Lin Wenhui and Jia Zhilan, having stayed in the city for so long, had long forgotten the details of the customs and traditions of this small mountain village where they were born and raised. They wanted to help Qing Shusheng and Bai Cuifen but found themselves unable to contribute as they stood by.
However, they were eager to do something at this moment for the deceased and for the living. Looking at the simple, rough faces before them, these people had once been like brothers and sisters to them. Although they hadn't seen each other for many years and often hardly thought of them while busy in the city, whenever they did remember, all past memories would surge back to their hearts, moving them deeply.
Moreover, now that they stood before these familiar faces, it felt as if time had rewound; it seemed they had never left this mountain village at all.
Yet they had indeed lost and forgotten many things. Many people had aged, making them sigh at the vicissitudes of life; time had truly passed for many years. Many young people had grown up, making it hard for them to recognize who they were or recall what they looked like as children. Many new children were already bouncing around or being held by strangers whom they could not identify; they did not know which families these newborns belonged to.
Because it was an evening funeral, every cry sounded even more mournful. Even though there was a clamor of voices, the entire mountain village felt exceptionally silent.
At exactly twelve twelve, a signal marked the time for the spirit to rise. The singing from the mourning group came to an abrupt stop, but the cries from relatives intensified several times over, almost turning into wails of grief. Many men's voices roared in waves that seemed ready to shake the village awake from its silence. At this moment, many women dared not look on anymore; under the eerie night sky, they hurriedly called their children to return home quickly. At the place where the spirit rose, aside from close relatives and friends present, only rough men with rugged builds and voices remained shouting.
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