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墨書 Inktalez
I thought to myself that the dog at home was barking for no reason, which surely meant something was wrong. If his family was nearby, they would definitely rush back to check. Sure enough, after a few minutes, a woman in her thirties appeared from a distance, leading two teenagers. Each of them was carrying a heavy load of straw on their shoulders, and the size and weight of each load were undoubtedly substantial. It was quite impressive for one woman and two children to carry so much straw. They were all sweating, their clothes clinging tightly to their skin due to the moisture. Their faces looked pale, as if the burden on their shoulders was making it hard for them to breathe.
Watching the three figures slowly approaching with their loads of straw made me feel uneasy. If the Bricklayer were still around, such heavy labor might not have fallen on them, even if they had to help out. However, the image of a family of four walking together with straw would be far more beautiful than this scene. At least that family would be whole. When a family is complete, the heart feels complete too; when the heart is whole, nothing feels as incomplete and sorrowful as it does now. I thought that no matter whose family it was, once they lost someone, they should go and carry the burden first. I greeted my guest and then walked over. The two boys nodded silently and took up their yokes and ropes before heading out of the yard again. They walked quickly, as if competing to carry more straw to lighten their mother's load. After they left, the Bricklayer's Wife invited my master and me into the Stove House and poured us each a bowl of tea. The tea was simple—boil a pot of water, pour it into a large tea jar, toss in some tea leaves, and let it sit in a cool place under the dining rack for about ten days.
"Master X, thank you for coming all the way here. Is something wrong with our Bricklayer?" Bricklayer's Wife asked, revealing her concern.
My master finished his tea in one gulp and said, "No, no. We came here today for two reasons. First, to tell you that your Bricklayer left peacefully and will always watch over you. So you need to be strong and not worry him. Second, I want to ask you where the Roasting House built by your Bricklayer is located; we want to go see it."
Bringing up old matters stirred emotions in Bricklayer's Wife that she had only just begun to manage; tears streamed down her face like a flood breaking through a dam. Yet she did not cry out loud; she just kept wiping her tears as she said, "Thank you. As long as he is well, we will also be fine and won't make him worry. I hope he can rest easy." Although she didn't cry out loud, it took her a long time to finish that short sentence. This kind of outwardly strong sadness was much more restrained than an outburst of tears but also much more painful. She was a strong woman—at least on the surface.
My master said, "First take us to light incense for your Bricklayer, then tell us where the Roasting House is." Bricklayer's Wife nodded and led us into the Main Hall. In front of the altar in the Main Hall was a memorial photo of the Bricklayer. The incense burner beside the photo was filled with burnt incense sticks, indicating that they had been offering incense regularly over these past months.
Looking at the memorial photo of the Bricklayer filled me with mixed emotions. My master said, "Go ahead and light some incense; you have a connection." I understood what he meant; I had personally seen him off. Given this opportunity, both out of sentiment and reason, I should offer him some incense. I took out a stack of Joss Paper from my Cloth Bag and burned them one by one for him before taking three sticks of incense respectfully bowing three times. At that moment when I inserted the incense into the burner, I suddenly felt both his greatness and his vulnerability—even though he had once struck me. This resilient rural man—did he ever truly live for himself amidst life's joys and sorrows? In the end, nothing could compare to a cup of Loess.
After lighting the incense, my master and I exited the Bricklayer's home while his wife gently closed the door behind us. Wiping away her still-flowing tears from her eyes, she choked out, "I'll take you to that Roasting House," then picked up her yoke and rope again, preparing to continue carrying straw for Heavenly Principle afterward.
My master said, "Just point us in the right direction; we can go ourselves—you don’t need to come along." She pointed towards a small hill not far ahead and said, "Alright then; it's just behind that hill where there's a small orange grove next to some wasteland." She clearly didn’t want to return to that place which had taken her husband's life.
The three of us silently exited through the door. As we passed by a well, we saw her two sons squatting by it drinking water while two loads of straw lay awkwardly across the path—far too large for their small frames. The slightly older boy hurried over when he saw us approaching and said to his mother: "Mom, wait here for us; we'll take this load back first." Without waiting for her response, he lifted his load and quickly headed homeward. These two boys were very considerate; they tried every way possible to let their mother rest a little longer. "Bricklayer," I thought silently as we walked away from his wife, "you can rest easy now; you have two dutiful sons."
After bidding farewell to Bricklayer's Wife, my master and I hurried along our way until we climbed over that small hill and easily spotted the half-built Roasting House in its shaded area.
"Master," I exclaimed before reaching the Roasting House in surprise, "that place is an ominous site! How can there be a Tomb down there?" My master stopped walking and looked around before taking out his compass to check its orientation carefully before saying: "No wonder—the White Shirt Spirit must have sealed itself in this place."
I was taken aback by the rapid shift in conversation and said, "Master, I don't understand what you're saying. This is a cursed burial site; those buried here will bring misfortune to their descendants. The spirit of the deceased will gradually become violent and reclusive, never able to be reborn. With such a grave, people would avoid it at all costs; how could anyone willingly choose to be buried here? Especially someone from the Taoist tradition—surely they must understand the dangers of this site."
The Master continued to focus on the compass in his hand as he walked, explaining, "You're right about it being a cursed site, but there's something you might not know. Once sealed within this grave, all memories of the soul are preserved and do not dissipate. Most importantly, this place is protected; minor spirits cannot disturb major spirits, and even the Yin Chai will not come here."
"I see now. That White Shirt Spirit must have sought out this cursed site to evade the Yin Chai. But what could compel him to go to such lengths to escape?" I asked again, puzzled.
"What other reason could there be? He likely committed many acts against Heavenly Principle during his lifetime, leading to a poor fate after death. If he can avoid accountability from the Yin House, he would do anything to escape. The fact that he found this place indicates that he is not only a Taoist but also possesses considerable skill—perhaps not much less than mine," the Master said seriously.
His words made me tense up. A spirit with skills comparable to the Master who had lingered in a cursed site for over a hundred years—it was no wonder I felt like an egg striking a rock in its presence, unable to pose any threat at all. Remembering the kick from last night made my foot ache again. However, what the Master said next calmed my nerves.
"Finding this grave is just the first step. We only need to relocate the tomb, dispel the Yin Qi within it, and burn peach tree branches for an hour. This way, dealing with that White Shirt Spirit will become much easier. The only problem is that relocating a tomb is quite troublesome; we don't have enough hands for it. Moreover, we need a professional to oversee the relocation. You should call your Second Master; we'll go find the owner of this Roasting House afterward. Since this situation arose because of him, he should bear the consequences."
I thought about it and agreed; he had unearthed the coffin without taking it seriously and had secretly sealed it with cement while continuing to build the Roasting House. For that alone, he couldn't escape responsibility.
PS: I'm posting an extra chapter in advance; I have something going on tomorrow and might not be able to update on time. If I have time tomorrow night, I'll try to post another chapter as well. Goodnight everyone.
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