Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

"Mother!" "Mother!" "Old woman!" "Auntie!" "Grandma!"

Upon seeing this, everyone instantly panicked. Shouts and sobs mingled together, seemingly drowning out the sound of the wind and snow. At that moment, the master quickly shouted, "Quickly carry the old lady to the inner room! I'll use acupuncture to save her!"

"Dr. Yang is here! Everyone, make way!" someone in the crowd shouted.

Upon hearing this, the villagers quickly made way for them, and Xingbao and Guixiang followed their master through. Seeing their master step forward to help, Dad's tense nerves eased slightly. He quickly pulled his anxious uncle along and hurried out of the crowd to see off the township head and his entourage.

Fortunately, Grandma regularly drank spiritual spring water infused with medicinal herbs, so her health was relatively good. However, she was still quite old and couldn't withstand the devastating news of her eternal separation from her. After her master administered acupuncture and other treatments, she slowly regained consciousness, but her mind was still hazy and confused. She clenched her fists tightly around the mournful figure, her knuckles turning white from the force. She kept murmuring her uncle's name, each word filled with sorrow and heartbreak, causing everyone present to feel a pang of sadness and tears to stream down their faces.

Suppressing the overwhelming grief in their hearts, Mother and Aunt, their eyes blurred with tears, still forced themselves to stand up and silently tidied up Uncle's clothes. While searching, a slightly curled-cornered photograph slipped out—the only image of Uncle before he joined the army. His face was handsome, his eyes brimming with youthful vigor; his vibrant appearance seemed as if it were just yesterday, yet now he was separated from them by death. Seeing this, Guixiang and Xingbao quickly stepped forward, carefully taking the photograph. Their fingertips gently caressed the face on it, gazing at it intently for a long time before reluctantly handing it back to Mother, their eyes filled with unconcealed heartache and sorrow.

Father had already solemnly handed another will written by Li Youde to Uncle Youcai. At this moment, he was in the front yard, suppressing his grief, helping to arrange the funeral. Mother and Aunt were taking good care of things inside the house, and there was nothing Xingbao could do for the time being. So Mother wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes and sent him back to look after the shop in a hoarse voice. She repeatedly told him that if he encountered any emergencies, he should ask Uncle Deng and the others for help, and not to try to handle things alone. Her words were full of worry and exhaustion.

As evening fell, Dad dragged his leaden, exhausted body back home. He forced himself to get going and began preparing to receive the guests who came to pay their respects and stay overnight. His maternal grandfather's family was large and prosperous, and Dad had been busy contacting people and preparing necessary items beforehand. Now that all the members of the Liu family had arrived and everything was settled, he could finally breathe a sigh of relief. He was just waiting for tomorrow's memorial ceremony to send his uncle off on his final journey.

As dusk fell and the snow stopped, the eldest and second eldest brothers hurriedly rode their donkeys home, the sound of their hooves shattering the silence of the mountain village, carrying with them their anxious hearts and deep sorrow. They not only brought back news of Sister Shanshan and her husband, but also specifically instructed that due to the hasty events of the day, they needed to make some preparations, and that they would arrive early the next morning to attend the funeral and bid farewell to the fallen hero.

The elder brother gazed at his uncle's photograph, his fingertips gently tracing the vibrant face. Overwhelmed with grief, he couldn't sleep all night. He worked through the night at his desk, using the heroic deeds of the 36th Division as a blueprint, carefully writing a heartfelt eulogy. Every word was filled with deep longing for his uncle and boundless respect for the martyrs; every sentence was imbued with profound sorrow and reluctance.

The younger uncle never married and left no children. According to the local custom, the position of filial son was to be taken over by Brother Dashan. The elders of the clan also set a rule in public that if Brother Dashan had two or more boys in the future, one of them would have to be adopted by the younger uncle to continue his family line. This was the mountain village's way of paying tribute to the martyr and upholding the bloodline.

The morning's memorial ceremony, led by Brother Dashan and attended by the Liu family, was solemn and respectful, offering solace to the spirit of the deceased uncle. The memorial service for Xingbao and his brothers was scheduled for the afternoon. Aunt's family, living far away in the county, couldn't be notified in time due to the suddenness of the event, but her husband's family, upon learning of the tragic news, specially sent someone to come and arranged a memorial service, showing their sympathy. Sister Shanshan and her husband were extremely anxious, rushing over before noon, their eyes filled with grief and distress.

In the afternoon, it was the Song family's turn to hold their ancestral rites. The four brothers shared a platform for the ceremony. The eldest brother led the way, followed closely by the second brother, who carried young Wei Bao and brought Xing Bao along. They followed the ritual, bowing step by step. The ceremony itself didn't take long, about fifteen minutes, and even including breaks and preparations, it only lasted a quarter of an hour. However, the eulogy to be read was written by the eldest brother overnight and differed slightly from traditional eulogies. It incorporated some "newly learned" grammar, and even though the eldest brother explained it to everyone beforehand, the great-uncle, who was responsible for reading the eulogy, still found it difficult to adapt. In the end, the eldest brother had to read it himself, which made it take longer.

This eulogy, every word and phrase brimming with the elder brother's deep longing for his younger brother, also conveyed boundless respect for the fallen heroes. Read aloud by the elder brother himself, the emotions were sincere and intense, each word a tear of blood, resonating deeply with everyone present. Their grief and reverence intensified, even the wind and snow seemed moved, softening as if quietly listening to this profound sorrow.

As night fell, the climax of the mourning ceremony arrived. Village leaders, headmen, and people from every household in the village, regardless of their relationship with the Song family or Uncle Youcai's family, all came to pay their respects and bid farewell to the two martyrs. My maternal grandfather's family lived not far from Uncle Youcai's, and my maternal uncle and Uncle Youde were not only fellow villagers and comrades-in-arms who had both died for their country and become martyrs, but the two families decided to connect their mourning tents together, covering the entire street. Thick cloth curtains were drawn at both ends of the tents to firmly block the biting cold wind, and several braziers inside burned brightly, providing warmth and comfort for those keeping vigil and adding a touch of solace to the solemn atmosphere of mourning.

Father, accompanied by his eldest brother, second brother, and Xingbao, arrived at Uncle Youcai's house. After paying their respects at Uncle Youde's memorial tablet, they had just stepped aside when Guixiang pulled them to join their friends. The group occupied a table, sat together, and ate fried soybeans while chatting about village gossip, trying to ease their grief with a moment of joy. Upon closer inspection, everyone seemed to have recovered somewhat; their faces were fuller, no longer as sallow and thin as before. However, this also brought a number of awkward moments—several people farted shortly after sitting down. No one seemed to mind, instead laughing and comparing who farted the most, even taking pride in it. Their childlike behavior somewhat lightened the somber atmosphere of the mourning hall.

This was a consequence of eating too many sweet potatoes on a regular basis; even the adults present weren't immune. The occasional muffled thuds drew knowing smiles from the crowd, but no one complained. In these chaotic times, feeding a family was already a struggle; who would care about such trivial embarrassments? Fortunately, the ventilation inside the mourning tent was decent, and the warmth of the brazier dispelled the odor; otherwise, with so many people crammed together, it would have been difficult to stay long. This noisy yet somewhat bittersweet scene became a unique solace in these chaotic times, revealing both the villagers' respect for the fallen heroes and the warmth of ordinary people persevering through hardship.