Chapter 2, The Grave Digger at Midnight (Part 2)

It is the hour of the Rooster... On the seventh day of the month, you have received so many years of favor from the Zhou family. Are you not planning to go and see off Old Master Zhou as he departs? At the entrance of the dilapidated temple, Mr. Wu, dressed in a long blue robe, looked at me with a teasing expression and smiled.

The air in the mountains is quite cool, especially when one reaches the lush valleys where the vegetation thrives. A gentle, cool mountain breeze sweeps in and out, while the path ahead becomes increasingly dim, imparting an extremely eerie and chilling sensation

I have come here voluntarily to tend to the grave of Old Master Zhou, solely to repay his years of kindness and support. Only by doing this will I have the courage to visit the Zhou family for meals in the future.

I swallowed hard, even the complaints I had just made about the fortune teller were swallowed down as well. I chuckled and took the package with both hands, and before I could express my gratitude, I heard the fortune teller's unexpected words from inside: "With the unlucky one gone, I hope to get some work in these three days..."

After finishing such a cliché, I stood up and carefully examined the inscription. The prominent characters in the center read "Zhou Family XX's X Position." There were a few characters I did not recognize; I had secretly learned a few characters outside the private school when I was young, and now I could barely write my own name. To the left, there was another line of small characters that left me even more puzzled. I scratched the back of my head and stood up in boredom, glancing around. Hmm! Why haven't I seen the coachman yet? This is rather strange.

Emerging from an old forest, I descended to the opposite hillside. Not far ahead lies Longgou. I have taken a shortcut compared to what is described in the *book*. If it were during the day when they were burying Old Master Zhou, they would have to take the winding mountain road, which would at least take an additional half hour.

It is said that Uncle Zhou's family is relatively well-off, and the grave of Old Lady Zhou is located in Longgou. Therefore, the butcher and the horseman should be eager to take on this job. If done well, a silver dollar or something similar could be a substantial reward. Whatever the case, I am not concerned about anything else; I will simply do what needs to be done. Even if he goes, it does not matter; he can guard his grave while I watch over my own.

Even the grave at Pozi Keng, three miles east of the village, I am always the one to press the grave. In fact, this task of pressing graves is not something that every family can undertake; at least, only families with a certain economic foundation can afford to hire someone for this task. After all, this work is considered very ominous. According to the elders, if the grave is not pressed properly within three days, it is certain to bring misfortune for three years, and the ancestral tomb of the family will also encounter problems. I am not clear on the specifics of these problems; I only know that I have yet to encounter any issues myself.

The afterglow of the evening glow still lingers at the horizon, yet the sky in the mountains has already turned pitch black. A crescent moon, resembling a willow's brow, hangs in the eastern sky. The moon is cold and the stars are sparse, but such a sky still allows one to vaguely discern the path. Walking the five-mile mountain road takes about half an hour. I am quite accustomed to walking at night, as I often take on the work of tending to graves, sleeping in cemeteries, and guarding ancestral halls, which has certainly hardened my courage.

Uncle Zhou's family still has some savings. It is said that in the past, Old Lady Zhou was the accountant of a wealthy family during the late Qing Dynasty, and the family had some assets. During the time of the Japanese invasion, they hid their wealth securely, which is why they still have a relatively affluent family background today

Today is the day of Old Lady Zhou's burial, and I feel very lost, as if I have lost someone close to me. Perhaps it is also because I fear that the number of people I can rely on will continue to decrease...

Bang!

The person responsible for the grave will arrive at the hour of You, but now I fear that the time has already passed. Could it be that Uncle Zhou did not invite him at all? Perhaps he knows I am coming? Hey! Uncle Zhou truly understands my character, I thought to myself, and then, following the direction of the tombstone, I found the entrance to the ancestral grave. I took out a stick of incense from my pocket, lit it, and inserted it into the ground. Then, I scattered a handful of mixed grains around the incense. With that, I found a clean stone to sit on. Uncle Zhou truly understands my character, I thought to myself, and then, following the direction of the tombstone, I found the entrance to the ancestral grave. I took out a stick of incense from my pocket, lit it, and inserted it into the ground. Then, I scattered a handful of mixed grains around the incense. With that, I found a clean stone to sit on.

Hey! ... I gritted my teeth and silently vented my frustrations at the wall of the inner room, that cursed fortune-teller, it turns out they were hoping for my departure from this dilapidated temple. I suddenly turned around and strode out of the temple doors, heading straight towards Longgou...

Lying on a pile of hay in a corner of the dilapidated temple, I cradled the back of my head and gazed at the setting sun gradually tilting to the west. I had not left this haystack all day, recalling one by one the events I had encountered from childhood to now, feeling inexplicably melancholic. Although the New Year had just passed, I could not feel happy because Old Master Zhou from the village had died. Old Master Zhou was the father of the village head, Zhou Dagen, who was seventy-three this year. Zhou Dagen was respectfully referred to as Uncle Zhou by the villagers. Over the years, thanks to Uncle Zhou and his family, I had not perished from hunger time and again. The Zhou family held a kind place in my heart... They were also the only family I felt a connection with. The entire village did not regard me as a person, but only Uncle Zhou did not disdain my unfortunate identity, often inviting me to their home for meals. Old Master Zhou also cared for me deeply...

Quack ... ... quack ... ... quack ... ...

The cawing of a crow, alternating between high and low pitches, gradually drifted from the nearby hill, swirling continuously in the cold mountain wind. I smiled slightly in the direction of the sound, appreciating that it could keep me company on such a night and in such circumstances. Sometimes I wonder if my misfortune stems from having been a crow in a past life. With a faint smile, I solemnly knelt before the gravestone of Old Master Zhou and bowed my head, then said: "Old Master, I have come to pay my respects on the seventh day. May you rest in peace!"

As soon as I sat down, I felt the urge to doze off. After doing this kind of work for a long time, it becomes a sort of occupational hazard; the moment I touch it, I feel drowsy. However, this time is different. Since it is for the late Mr. Zhou's burial, I must at least stay alert for the first few hours. I can only sleep after confirming that everything is fine past midnight. Yet, my eyelids are stubbornly heavy, and my drowsiness is continuously assaulting my brain. Just as I was drifting away, suddenly! A faint sound of rustling came from behind me. To be precise, it should be the sound of soft footsteps!

On the slope of Longgou Mountain in the faint moonlight, patches of silver-white paper money are reflected. At the center of the paper money stands a newly added grave mound, meticulously restored to a very even surface. In front of the grave mound stands a tall stone tablet, over a person's height. Such a new grave and such an imposing cemetery, I can tell at a glance that this is the resting place of Old Master Zhou, as it is directly adjacent to the ancestral home of the Zhou family.

The term "pressing a grave" does not refer to suppression, but rather to another meaning of "guarding." If there were indeed a large number of lonely souls and wild spirits causing disturbances, the living would not be able to see them, so how could one press them? Thus, there is also a meaning of "respect" involved. Pressing a grave means standing guard at the entrance of the tomb, placing a stick of incense three feet in front of oneself, and scattering a small amount of grains around the incense. This is called welcoming the earth's energy to purify the tomb. In short, I have become quite skilled at this task, so I do not concern myself with its meaning, nor do I worry about it, because I do not really believe in ghosts and spirits, after all, I have never seen them.

... ... ''

The burial sites here are not very concentrated; they are chosen by Mr. Wu, who selects auspicious locations based on astrology for interment. However, over time, the main areas for selecting ancestral graves in our vicinity have roughly narrowed down to a few places, such as Paozi Keng, located three miles east of the village, Xiao Wang Po, two miles north of the village, and Long Gou, five miles southeast of the village. Long Gou is somewhat distant, but it is not a place that just anyone can access. According to the elders, it is said to be a small dragon vein. Whether one believes it or not, if you dig down about three or four meters along the foot of the mountain with a shovel, you will uncover a black soil layer that is distinctly different from the surrounding earth. Additionally, it winds around a small hill and is said to resemble a coiling dragon shape.

After a long while, I slowly raised my head, only to find Mr. Wu had entered the room at some point. Hey! What an unfeeling fellow. What I said was the only thought in my mind at that moment; I just wanted to repay the kindness of Old Lady Zhou with my own actions. It was one thing for that fortune-teller not to understand, but to act so indifferent was too much. I stood up, intending to go into the inner room to scold the fortune-teller. Just as I stepped over the threshold, a small, tattered yellow cloth bundle was suddenly pulled out by a hand. Then, from the inner room, the fortune-teller's voice unexpectedly came: "After all, we are under the same roof; consider this a contribution to you, six steamed buns and half a loaf of bread, that’s all!"

I do not know how it happened, but I swung the long hemp whip at my waist and struck a loud crack in the air. There is a saying among the mountain folk, called "ghost scare whip," but in fact, this phrase is said in reverse; it should be "whip scare ghost." This hemp whip was woven for me by Mr. Wu, who said it has nine segments, and the whip's tail has absorbed the blood of a black dog. Those who often travel the mountain paths at night carry it with them. When a whip is cracked, regardless of whether there is a ghostly presence, it is considered to have borrowed the way. I have not used this whip for a long time, and today, for some unknown reason, it unexpectedly cracked loudly, perhaps out of some unease towards these unusually chilly vibes. This hemp whip was woven for me by Mr. Wu, who said it has nine segments, and the whip's tail has absorbed the blood of a black dog. Those who often travel the mountain paths at night carry it with them. When a whip is cracked, regardless of whether there is a ghostly presence, it is considered to have borrowed the way. I have not used this whip for a long time, and today, for some unknown reason, it unexpectedly cracked loudly, perhaps out of some unease towards these unusually chilly vibes.

Upon hearing Mr. Wu's inexplicable words, a wave of melancholy suddenly surged in my mind. I no longer looked at Mr. Wu, licked my dry lips, and lowered my head to say: "I want to bury Old Master Zhou's grave!"