When a family in our village built a tiled house and reached the completion stage, there was an important ceremony known as the Distributing Celebration Buns. At that time, rural areas were generally poor, and a family building a tiled house would certainly attract attention from neighbors. On the day of the roof completion—what we called "The tiles are laid; the house is complete"—people of all ages would gather early to wait for the celebration buns.
Once the last tile was laid, the male head of the household would come over carrying a basket covered with red cloth. Inside the basket were small white buns dyed with red spots, totaling seventy-two, with two larger buns among them. The Contractor would solemnly take the basket and climb up to the roof.
Friends from the south mentioned that in Jiangsu Rugao, there was also a tradition of saying auspicious words during the beam-raising ceremony. The Master Carpenter, Da Jiang, would climb up the ladder while striking his axe and reciting good wishes: "With each strike of the axe, may happiness abound! Today, the Host Family builds their Hua Tang; may it prosper on Longkou, as everyone comes together for this occasion."
In our area, we did not have such elaborate customs. However, when the basket of buns made its appearance, it marked the climax of the event. Once on the roof, the Contractor would announce loudly, "The auspicious time has arrived! Light the firecrackers and start distributing the buns!" Following this announcement, someone would ignite red firecrackers. As they crackled and popped, the person in charge of distributing the celebration buns would sit on the ridge of the roof, using one hand to hold the basket and with the other hand tossing buns into the crowd like scattering flowers. Some buns would land on heads, others on shoulders, and some even hit faces.
When the firecrackers ceased and bun distribution ended, the distributor would turn the basket upside down to show that they had not kept any buns for themselves. Even though Hu Ruoyun's family built a flat-roofed house, they still followed this ceremony but added a twist by including a large bag of fruit candies along with the seventy-two celebration buns, marking a reform in this tradition.
Another memorable ceremony associated with new houses from my childhood was Burying the Oil Lamp. When a new house was completed but before the ground was hardened, it was customary to bury oil lamps at each corner of the house and in its center. These lamps were made from sticky millet dough shaped like candles and could be filled with a little oil and a wick.
The entire ritual involved digging holes at each corner of the new house and at its entrance. We would go to a temple to collect some soil and carry it back while reciting: "Borrowing Your Land, returning your soil; Borrow One Zhang, returning Five Zhang..." Upon returning home, we would light five oil lamps and place them into their respective holes. After lighting incense and offering sacrifices, five people would simultaneously bury the lamps using any remaining soil.
This entire ceremony was known as giving thanks to the earth god. It acknowledged that since heaven and earth are vast, building a house first requires breaking ground. This ritual expressed gratitude for divine protection over successful construction.
The phrase "Borrowing Your Land" signifies that borrowing should be repaid; borrowing one zhang while returning one and a half zhang illustrates honesty and sincere gratitude while praying for blessings upon moving into a new home.
Speaking of building houses brings to mind another related custom: if a family built a new house but did not immediately move in, they would place a pair of shoes worn by a man inside. Elders believed that an empty house could attract supernatural creatures; placing shoes inside indicated that someone lived there to deter any disturbances.
There is also a related legend: when Fourth Brother's family completed their new house and went out to work elsewhere, their son stayed with his grandparents. After finishing plastering in their new home, it remained empty because they hurriedly left without placing any men's shoes inside.
At the end of the year, we brought our son Huan Huan back from his grandparents' house to celebrate the New Year in our new home.
On the first night, we couldn't sleep peacefully. Even though the three of us were in bed, I kept hearing footsteps in the living room and the sound of furniture being moved around. When I turned on the light to check, there was nothing there. This went on for several days, leaving us all exhausted with dark circles under our eyes and a lack of energy.
When we mentioned this to the older folks in the family, they were alarmed. They said that our house must have been occupied by some supernatural being that was now causing disturbances. So, we invited a "master" to perform a ritual, reaffirming our "ownership" of the house and offering incense and paper offerings, pleading for the spirit to find another place.
There are still some customs that people observe today. For instance, it's acceptable to eat in front of the door (the area directly facing the entrance), but one should never sleep there. When I was a child during hot summers, people in the village would often sleep on mats outside with their doors open.
The reason for this is that the area in front of the door is not only a passage for people but also a route for spirits and supernatural beings that ordinary humans cannot see. Sleeping there could interfere with their "traffic." If someone disregards these rules and sleeps in front of the door, they might experience "sleep paralysis," where they feel awake but cannot move or speak.
Thus, older family members would always warn us during summer: "Don't sleep in front of the door!"
Decades have passed, and many people no longer adhere to these customs, nor have I heard any recent legends related to them.
I digress. Hu Qihua and Zhao Meirong strictly followed traditions while building their new home, but they encountered some changes during the beam-raising ceremony: traditionally, a red cloth would be tied around a large wooden beam, but how could they do this with a concrete structure?
In the end, Second Master Kuei came up with an idea: use red paper instead! They bought red paper and asked Teacher Shao to write with a brush:
"With solid foundations like rock,
And beams cast from steel so strong;
May prosperity fill this home,
And joy surround us all day long."
The head of the household, Hu Qihua, carefully affixed it to the concrete beam.
There are also specific beliefs about planting trees in courtyards. The most common saying is: "Don't plant mulberry trees in front or willows in back; don't plant 'ghost clappers' in your yard!"
The elders say that "mulberry" sounds like "mourning," so planting mulberry trees in front is considered very unlucky. Willows are associated with darkness and can attract "unclean things." Another belief is that willows do not produce seeds; planting them behind the house is thought to be detrimental to future generations. Moreover, "willow" sounds like "slip," suggesting that planting willows could cause wealth to slip away.
"Ghost clappers" refer to poplar trees. The leaves of poplars resemble hands and make a rustling sound when blown by the wind, especially eerie on stormy nights—much like ghostly applause.
I’m not sure if these taboos hold any real significance, but they are still largely observed in our hometown today. Poplars grow quickly and are commonly planted; however, they are mostly found in fields or village open spaces rather than in courtyards. Willows are similarly scarce in yards.
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