Don't farm, cultivate immortality!

She must have heard her mother's footsteps from a great distance. To avoid ruining her public image, she always carefully hid her true self.

After returning to the house, my mother brought me some news.

"Miss Yan, the village chief would like to invite you to the funeral."

"The village has already dealt with the tiger demon. When they dissected the tiger spirit, the old hunter found some undigested human bones inside its stomach."

"Just a few days ago, the old headhunter pieced together the fragmented bones to make them look somewhat human. After informing the deceased's family, the funeral was scheduled for before the new year."

"Miss Yan, you are a great benefactor of the village. It was you who rid the people of the demon and killed the tiger demon. Therefore, the deceased's family wishes for you to make an appearance at the funeral. What do you think, Miss Yan?"

Yan Huai'an was silent for a moment, then nodded: "I understand."

She didn't refuse, which meant she agreed.

The mother lowered her head slightly and said, "Then I will go and inform them this afternoon. If everything goes smoothly, the funeral should be held in two days. I will then take Miss Yan there."

"Mm," Yan Huai'an replied.

After saying that, the mother ran to the crib to look at Zhuang Xing, and then went to the kitchen to cook.

Shortly before dinner, Miss Huai'an suddenly ran out into the courtyard to practice her swordplay.

She was probably very uncomfortable. Her sword dance was not as light and easy as usual, but rather had a more murderous intent. The sword energy cut marks in the snow.

Perhaps she was thinking that if she had arrived a moment earlier, no one would have died.

Although Zhuang Xing did not know the deceased, a faint sadness and a trace of relief welled up in his heart.

He was relieved that it wasn't him and his mother who died, but he couldn't help but wonder how many people in the village would have perished in the tiger's jaws if Miss Huai'an hadn't arrived.

How many people would such a big tiger eat in a day?

This world may seem peaceful, but it is actually fraught with danger. Even if you are just lying at home sleeping peacefully, you may still be struck by a sudden disaster and die without a burial place.

Thinking about this, Zhuang Xing became even more determined.

If he could master the swordsmanship of Miss Huai'an, what would he have to fear from that man-eating tiger demon?

Even if his talent is slightly lacking and he can't reach Miss Huai'an's level, it would be excellent if he could have some self-defense skills like the old hunter.

However, a funeral...

The mention of funerals inevitably brings a sense of melancholy to people.

Life and death are eternal topics.

When people are killed, they die.

This is both a truism and the truth.

Zhuang Xing silently mourned for the deceased. It might sound a bit darkly humorous, but the fact that he and his mother survived was indeed thanks in part to the deceased.

After all, eating takes time. When the tiger demon broke into Zhuang Xing's house, it had already eaten most of its first meal. If the deceased hadn't delayed them for a little while, Zhuang Xing and his mother wouldn't have been able to wait for Miss Huai'an to save them.

He even felt a pang of guilt for this, as if that person had died in his place along with his mother.

Regardless, respect for the deceased is paramount.

Zhuang Xing felt it was necessary for him to attend the funeral and offer his prayers for the deceased.

I hope you can be reborn into a wealthy family in your next life, and then during the New Year, you can make a whole pig feast out of the tiger spirit that was reborn as a pig.

...

Two days later, on the day of the funeral.

Before dawn, my mother washed up and got dressed, waiting at the door early.

Then, there was a knock on the door.

A man and a woman dressed in white mourning clothes came to announce the death, carrying an oil-paper umbrella and a white lantern.

The faint firelight illuminated their pale faces, creating a rather eerie atmosphere.

Fortunately, Zhuang Xing remembered what the two men looked like and knew they were alive.

At that time, he was nestled in Miss Huai'an's arms, following the group to visit the tiger demon's corpse. He saw them on the way, next to that dilapidated mud house. He remembered that the two of them were calling to the others and carrying a little girl away from the house.

The umbrella handles in their hands were pointing forward, not as if they were holding them for themselves, but as if they were holding them for some unseen, mysterious person.

Zhuang Xing wasn't sure if there was anything under the umbrella. Perhaps the soul of the deceased had really followed him. He dared not be negligent. When his mother bowed, he also climbed out of his crib and bowed to the area under the umbrella.

"My elder brother Yunshu will be buried today, so I am here to invite you."

The man presented an invitation, bowed to the woman, and then they went to another house together.

After the two left, Yan Huai'an came out of the bedroom, now dressed in black with a sword at his waist.

"Miss Yan, please wait a moment while I go to make breakfast," her mother said.

Breakfast is what we call "Zhaoshi". In the past, my mother would wait until dawn to cook, but today it was too early and she didn't have time to prepare.

"No food at the funeral." Yan Huai'an shook his head, seemingly having no appetite.

“Then…I’ll take Miss Yan there when it’s light,” Mother said.

Yan Huai'an nodded, picked up a stool, and sat down.

Zhuang Xing wasn't pretending to be asleep; he was awake and reached out his hand to Miss Huai'an, making creaking noises.

Miss Huai'an lifted him onto her lap, and the two sat down, quietly listening to the sound of the wind and snow outside.

After daybreak, Mother went to the kitchen and brought out a square piece of smoked meat, which she tied with straw rope.

"Miss Yan, let's go."

"it is good."

Before leaving home, his mother wrapped Zhuangxing tightly in a woolen blanket.

Light snow was falling outside. Once outside, you could see scattered people walking in the same direction, each carrying something in their hands.

No one spoke on the way. Mother led the way, bringing Yan Huai'an to the stream outside the village.

The old hunter and the village chief stood there, holding hoes, breaking the ice on the stream. Someone carried the coffin over, and several people dressed in mourning clothes knelt beside it. Zhuang Xing saw the little girl.

The little girl was no longer kicking and hitting wildly like that day. Although she was with the bereaved family, she was not wearing mourning clothes, and she remained unmoved when others burned paper money.

It was like a mysterious ritual. After the ashes of the burning paper money floated to the water's surface, the village chief and the old hunter would pick up bowls and scoop water from the river.

They took turns, each scooping a bowl and splashing water into the open coffin, presumably to wash the deceased's body. A total of nine bowls of water were splashed from the head to the tail of the coffin. After they finished, they threw the bowls into the coffin, and the kneeling relatives stood up and closed the coffin.

After that, the coffin was carried away, and the bereaved family members cried out and followed along.

Zhuang Xing paid special attention to the little girl, not just because of her unconventional behavior.

Although she didn't cry, Zhuang Xing felt that she was the most heartbroken one.

She must have a great relationship with the deceased. In Zhuang Xing's opinion, the reason why she did not wear mourning clothes, burn paper money, or follow the funeral procession to bury the deceased was because she was resisting. She did not believe that the person was dead, so she was unwilling to do anything related to mourning.

She stood there, her eyes fixed on a certain spot, as if waiting for someone to take her home.

She seems to still be unable to accept reality.

Chapter 20 The Day of Parting

The poor child, Zhuang Xing couldn't help but feel sorry for the little girl as he looked at her thin back.

A three- or four-year-old child, still innocent and unaware, has lost the most important person in their life.

She still has so much life ahead of her, but every day from now on, that person won't be there for her.

What will become of her in the future?

Zhuang Xing was thinking about this on his way home.

He didn't have much interaction with the little girl. After the bereaved family carried away the coffin, the snow got heavier. The villagers who came to pay their respects handed over their gifts to the bereaved family, exchanged a few words of comfort, and the funeral came to an end.

This was the first funeral Zhuang Xing attended since his birth. The process was very brief, lasting only twenty or thirty minutes at most. In those short twenty or thirty minutes, it was announced to everyone that a person named Yun Shu had left this world forever.

In a few years, many people will probably forget the name "Yunshu".

I wonder what kind of person he was, and what he left behind for the world.

Zhuang Xing lay back in his crib with mixed feelings, feeling an inexplicable sense of frustration.

That night, he stubbornly lay in his mother's arms instead of sleeping in his own crib.

At night, his mother gently patted his back, and after a long time, the tightness in his chest slowly dissipated.

The next day, he studied reading with Miss Huai'an even more diligently, and whenever he had the chance, he would go to Miss Huai'an's arms to look for bamboo slips.

With his past experience, learning to read and write was not so difficult for him.

Moreover, he had a very good memory. Learning to read is essentially a process of rote memorization. Five days later, he could recognize almost all the characters on the bamboo slips.

He was somewhat smug; with such a good memory, he could be called a genius.

After that, a peaceful period passed. Counting the days, it was already the fifth month since his birth.

Time flies, and the New Year is here in the blink of an eye.

On New Year's Day, Zhuang Xing received a small bib, which his mother sewed for him by hand.

Although it was the New Year, there were no special activities, except that the dishes on the table were more plentiful. My mother finally took out the smoked meat that she had hung by the stove and cut it up.

After the New Year, the weather gradually warmed up, and it snowed less frequently.

One morning when Zhuang Xing woke up, he found that all the snow in the yard had melted. His mother carried him outside to bask in the sun, and he saw tiny bamboo shoots sprouting from the soil.

Miss Huai'an stood in front of the bamboo grove, sword in hand, facing the path outside the fence, her face thoughtful.

Half a month later, the village chief and the old hunter came to visit.

They didn't come alone; they were followed by people and carriages. Originally, there were no such carriages in the village.

Zhuang Xing knew what they were there for; his mother had mentioned it to Miss Huai'an many times back in winter.

In early spring, the old hunter found an opportunity to discuss the details with Miss Huai'an. Although the old hunter did most of the talking, Miss Huai'an did not show any sign of refusal.

"Lord Yan, the carriages and horses are all ready, and we can set off tomorrow," the old hunter said.

"Yes." Yan Huai'an nodded.

Zhuang Xing knew this day would come; all good things must come to an end, and the time for parting had finally arrived.