Wandering Spirit Tavern - Chapter 3 - Funeral

Lin You missed a train and with it the chance to see her mother one last time. By the time she had changed trains three times and endured a bumpy ride for over ten hours back to her hometown in the southern town, her father and several relatives were already preparing for her mother’s funeral.

The coffin had been arranged by her mother before her passing and was now sitting in the yard, with a carpenter applying the final coat of varnish.

Naturally, her mother had not yet been placed in the coffin; she lay on a bed in the main room, her feet bound with hemp rope, her face covered with a white cloth.

Her father lifted the cloth to let Lin You see her mother’s face.

After looking, Lin You felt that the body lying there had little connection to her mother, and she didn’t feel the need to mourn for that lifeless form.

Next came a series of funeral rites under the guidance of her relatives, lighting the eternal light, meeting various guests, and so on.

Busy and distracted, Lin You found herself unable to grieve, and she continued to stay occupied until nightfall when everyone had left, leaving her to keep vigil.

Throughout the process, Lin You felt as though she was attending someone else’s funeral. Whenever she was slightly more aware, she would question herself, wondering if she was too cold-hearted, why she felt no sadness at all.

As the night wore on, her father arranged for her to sleep for a while, and she was indeed exhausted, falling asleep immediately.

She awoke sometime later with a dry, sore throat, muttering in a daze, “Mom, is there any cold medicine?”

Only after speaking did she realize she no longer had a mother.

Looking around at the chaotic surroundings, she felt an overwhelming urge to cry.

At that moment, someone handed her a cup of water and sat beside her.

“Feeling sad now?”

Lin You took the water and looked up at the person. It was the mysterious woman who had deceived her as a child, the same woman who had inexplicably appeared on the train and frightened her into missing it.

Lin You was startled, too scared to move.

Her father approached and introduced the woman to Lin You: “Your aunt, you probably haven’t met her before. She was doing business in Lu City and recently moved back.”

This aunt, who had appeared out of nowhere, gave Lin You a warm smile, but Lin You saw only a chilling horror in that smile.

In a panic, she placed the cup on the table and rose to her mother’s side, offering incense and bowing, sincerely hoping her mother would protect her.

The funeral proceeded normally, and the strange woman did nothing out of the ordinary.

By noon, two young Taoist priests arrived at the funeral site. Relatives said they were from the Luoshan Taoist Temple, here to conduct the funeral rite. Originally, the temple’s head priest was supposed to perform the rite, but he had passed away a few days ago, so the disciples were sent in his place.

One of these young priests was Feng Bei.

A day earlier, Feng Bei had endured a long journey back to the Luoshan Taoist Temple. Just as he sat down, his junior brother arranged for him to prepare a funeral rite. Feng Bei detested the dullness of funerals, having disliked them since childhood. He believed that once people died, they went to the netherworld, and all the convoluted rituals were merely designed by the living to comfort themselves; the dead didn’t care about them.

So Feng Bei tried to pass the task to his junior brother.

But his junior brother said this was specifically arranged by their master before his passing, and Feng Bei was called back for this funeral.

It was then that Feng Bei remembered the dream he had that morning-apparently, the task entrusted by his master was this very event.

He felt his master truly hated him, deliberately calling him back to do something he despised.

But wait, when the master died, this funeral shouldn’t have existed yet; the person shouldn’t have been dead. This meant the master knew beforehand that this person would die, which might imply a connection between the master’s death and this person’s death. The question was, why didn’t the master explain clearly? Was he afraid that if he spoke too plainly, Feng Bei wouldn’t return? Could there be some major trouble involved? That old man was cunning; it certainly wasn’t anything good.

Yet, this unclear situation piqued Feng Bei’s curiosity, making him want to attend the funeral to see what might happen. But before going, there was one thing he needed to do: find what his master mentioned in the dream.

In the back hall, Feng Bei stood at the door of his master’s room, dumbfounded. The room was pitch black, clearly having been recently burned.

His junior brother came over to explain, “Last night, this room caught fire, and most of the master’s remains were burned. We only managed to save these.”

His junior brother handed Feng Bei a box, which he opened to find a pile of charred items. Feng Bei sifted through them, finding a half-burned Taoist robe, the remaining part resembling a vest; a half-burned peachwood sword, the remaining part resembling a dagger; and a half-burned scripture, likely with no coherent sentences left.

These items together resembled a hexagram, which deciphered to only two words: “ominous.”

It seemed there would indeed be major trouble at the funeral, trouble even the master couldn’t handle, and now the master had passed the trouble onto Feng Bei. Could Feng Bei handle it?

Whether it was psychological or a sign from above, Feng Bei’s eyelids began to twitch simultaneously.

Reciting the calming mantra to stop the twitching, Feng Bei began weighing the pros and cons: what benefits were there to performing the rite? What would he lose by not going?

Going might unravel some mysteries, but what good would unraveling them do?

Not going would lose some answers, but what use were those answers?

It’s better to remain a bit confused.

That night, Feng Bei decided to quietly leave the temple, pretending he had never returned. His junior brother would go perform the rite, and if there were problems, he would know; of course, it would be best if there were none.

The plan went smoothly; his junior brother, who was in mountain retreat, had a regular schedule and went to bed early. Feng Bei escaped the temple and reached the town at the foot of the mountain, where the night market was still bustling. Vendors selling snacks, toys, and karaoke with big-screen TVs were scattered across the damp ancient streets of the town.

Walking among these people, Feng Bei suddenly recalled his childhood, when he and his junior brother would sneak down the mountain while their master slept to visit the night market. It was the same scene, and the people seemed to be the same as well-the lemon water vendor aunt hadn’t changed over the years, nor had the barbecue brother… Wait, wasn’t the sugar-blowing uncle long dead? Feng Bei had even presided over his funeral with his master.

Feng Bei panicked, and in his confusion, he began to look around frantically. Suddenly, he saw an old man at the corner of the street waving at him. Behind the old man was a shop Feng Bei had never seen as a child, nor had he noticed it on his way back this time. The shop had no sign, just a red lantern hanging at the door, with the word “wine” written on it.

There was no wind, yet the lantern swayed on its own, its red light flickering eerily on the old man’s face.

For some reason, Feng Bei couldn’t tear his gaze away from the old man’s face. In his struggle, he saw the old man start to speak, and though he was far away, the old man’s voice reached Feng Bei’s ears clearly.

“You still have unfinished business.”

Feng Bei awoke with a start, finding himself still in the temple bed, with his junior brother calling him to get up.

“Senior brother, get ready; it’s time to go down the mountain for the rite.”

And so, at Lin You’s mother’s funeral, Feng Bei once again encountered Lin You.