Cry of Mourning

As the saying goes, "Man is the knife, I am the fish meat." Whoever holds the weapon holds the right to speak. Human life is like grass—this is something that people in our modern age can hardly imagine.

When my grandmother heard this, she was terrified. Her trembling hands didn't know where to put themselves, so she had no choice but to grab the chopsticks and softly tell my grandfather, "What if Huzi finds out the scout was killed, what are we going to do? Is there any way out for us?"

After drinking a bit of alcohol, my grandfather's face turned a bit red, and he was clearly getting warm. He took off his cotton-padded jacket and threw it onto the kang, comforting my grandmother, "Don't worry. I, Old Zhai, and Siliangzi threw him into the snowfield on the back mountain. By morning, wolves and wild dogs will eat him clean. If Huzi finds out, he'll think the bastard hasn't even gone down the mountain and was eaten by the wolves. Besides, there's no evidence. Who's he going to blame? We'll hide the grain tomorrow, and everything will be fine. Go ahead and serve me some more rice."

Looking at my grandfather's calmness, my grandmother felt a little more reassured, but she was still scared, and couldn't eat much of the precious grain. My grandfather, after a long day, ate and then lay down on the kang to sleep deeply. After washing the bowls and chopsticks, my grandmother still couldn't sleep. Her mind kept thinking about Huzi—what if this was exposed? What would they do? It wasn't until around 10 PM that she fell into a drowsy sleep.

However, what happened next was something my grandmother never could have imagined.

In the middle of the night, my grandmother woke up. Drowsy, she got out of bed to use the chamber pot in the outer room. Just as she squatted down, she heard faint crying, as though many people were weeping, softly and mournfully, like an opera. She suddenly woke up. Who was crying in the yard at this hour? Just as she adjusted her pants and prepared to look out the window to see what was going on, someone suddenly patted her on the back. The unexpected scare made her forget to scream. She turned around and saw an old woman kneeling behind her, dressed in mourning clothes. The old woman had a sharp face, and in the dark, her face looked as white as paper, though her lips were unnaturally red. She grabbed my grandmother's nightgown and cried, "My grandson has such a hard life, have you seen my eldest grandson?"

Ah! My grandmother finally screamed. She broke free from the old woman's hand and ran to the inner room, desperately shaking my grandfather awake. My grandfather, deep in sleep, cursed, "What are you shouting for? Is it a funeral?" My grandmother quickly told him what she had seen. When my grandfather heard about someone in the outer room, he hurriedly got dressed, grabbed the stove hook, and rushed out. But when he lit the kerosene lamp, there was no one in the outer room. Furious, my grandfather turned back and scolded my grandmother, "Are you sick? What are you talking about? Are you dreaming?" My grandmother, still in shock, shook her head desperately. Seeing that my grandmother was truly scared, my grandfather comforted her, "It's fine, you were just dreaming. Stop thinking too much. Go back to sleep."

Just as my grandmother was about to speak, the faint crying returned. My grandfather's face immediately turned pale, as he had heard it too. They looked at each other, and neither of them spoke. My grandfather, summoning his courage, peered out the window. When he looked out, the sight that greeted him shocked both him and my grandmother.

In the dark yard, there were more than twenty people kneeling, all dressed in white mourning clothes, wearing pointed white hats. The crying came from their mouths. After crying a few times, they bowed in the direction of the back mountain and then continued crying. In the dead of night, these people appeared out of nowhere in the yard, crying like they were mourning the dead. The sight was terrifying beyond words.

Now both my grandfather and grandmother were badly frightened. They had never seen such a scene before. Although tales of ghosts and spirits were often passed down as folklore, used by people to scare children or during idle conversations, witnessing it firsthand immediately threw my grandparents into a state of panic.

Fortunately, my grandfather quickly regained his composure. He immediately pulled my grandmother into the inner room, closed all the curtains, and lit a candle that had been prepared for the New Year. The faint light gave them a sense of safety. Holding the stove hook, my grandfather looked at my grandmother. She had already started crying, but she dared not make a sound, hugging the quilt tightly on the kang. For safety, my grandfather didn't dare to go outside but whispered to her, "Wait for the morning, and we'll see what's going on."

Luckily, the crying stopped around 4 or 5 in the morning. They hadn't slept a wink the entire night. My grandfather cautiously peered out the window, and the yard was empty. After a while, the sky started to lighten. With courage, my grandfather went into the yard and found the gate tightly shut, with no signs of anyone entering. The large yellow dog in the yard was lying dead, its internal organs missing, the blood mixed with snow and frozen solid.

My grandfather went back into the house and told my grandmother, "Stay at home today. Don't go out. I'm going to Niangzi Mountain."

My grandmother trembled and asked, "Did we offend something?"

My grandfather didn't answer. Around 7 AM, he reheated the leftover yellow millet rice, ate a bit with my grandmother, and then packed a bag of sorghum rice and a jar of homemade white wine and left.

The phrase "Did we offend something?" is a Northeast dialect expression, meaning something supernatural might have happened. Today, it's roughly equivalent to saying someone has seen a ghost. Modern science explains this phenomenon as a sudden occurrence of hallucinations or delusions, often after an unusual event. In some regions, people call this "hitting a ghost."

However, the world is vast, and there's no end to the strange. Many things we haven't personally experienced often end with ambiguous conclusions. But my grandparents' story indirectly impacted my life. That's another story for later.

Now, my grandmother was truly terrified, but she still had to work. While she was out sweeping snow, she asked Old Zhai's wife and Siliangzi's wife if they had heard anything strange the night before. But both of them said they hadn't heard a thing. Siliangzi's wife asked what had happened, and my grandmother told them everything that had happened last night. After hearing it, the women went wild—one said it was ghosts, another said it was immortals. The more they talked, the more nervous my grandmother became. They asked where my grandfather had gone, and she told them that he had gone to Niangzi Mountain to ask someone for help.

Niangzi Mountain, located northwest of Qiqihar, is part of the Lesser Khingan Range. It is most famous for the mysterious Snake Cave Mountain legend, where a giant snake once blocked the Russian-built railway, causing the train to stop. The Russian soldiers tried to kill the snake, but it retaliated, killing several people before returning to its cave and never being seen again. Locals revered the snake as a deity and offered yearly sacrifices.

It was at the foot of this mountain that a man named Liu Shuqing lived. Known as Master Liu, he was famous for his work with the dead. His family had a coffin business, and his ancestors were said to have found a heavenly book in the Snake Cave, granting them the ability to perform divination and exorcism. Master Liu was well-known in the area for helping people find burial sites, determining auspicious dates, and driving away evil spirits. Even the local bandits, like Huzi, feared him. Master Liu was generous and often helped the poor without charging them.

However, Master Liu had a few flaws. He was very stubborn, and if he didn't like someone, he wouldn't help them, no matter how much they pleaded. He also loved alcohol and was rarely sober, even when helping people. He was known to drink all day and night, and it was rumored that after drinking, he could communicate with ghosts. People began calling him "Drunken Liu" to describe his ability to deal with spirits while intoxicated.

My grandfather was in a hurry to go to Niangzi Mountain to ask Master Liu for help. Several years ago, after my great-grandfather passed away, it was Master Liu who had helped find his burial site. My grandfather and Master Liu had become good friends, sharing a love for drinking. When they sat down for a meal together, Liu saw that my grandfather could drink just as much as he could, and they became fast friends, often visiting each other during festivals.

My grandfather hurriedly went to the west side of the village, borrowed a donkey cart from Old Bao, and loaded it with supplies. He then rushed to Niangzi Mountain. The rough path and the snow slowed the donkey cart, and it took nearly half a day to reach Master Liu's house. Liu's wife saw him coming from far away, and she quickly came out to greet him. Because their families were close, there was no need for pleasantries. She asked, "Xiao Cui, why are you here so early this year? Have you eaten yet? Come in, where is your wife?"

My grandfather unloaded the sorghum rice and the wine and rushed to ask, "Sister-in-law, help me! Where is my brother?" Liu's wife could tell from his expression that something serious had happened. She quickly poured him a cup of tea and asked him to sit down. After he calmed down, she asked, "What happened, Xiao Cui? Tell me slowly. Your dead brother is lying in the back room, drunk as usual."