So, Ji Ye really became the last Tima apprentice to Old Man Xiang, and through that kind of method? Could it be that Ji Ye was the apprentice Old Man Xiang had chosen long ago? No wonder Ji Ye could make Old Man Xiang's corpse obediently comply; perhaps it was because Old Man Xiang requested that Ji Ye fulfill his filial duty and see him off. Moreover, ever since the afternoon, Ji Ye’s expression had been off—distracted and bewildered. At Qiao Ge’s house, he committed those strange acts, holding the dead infant while uttering those cryptic words. It turns out this is what happened.

"Ji Ye isn't here?" I searched frantically through the crowd, seeing no sign of him, and asked Elder Chen urgently.

"No. I haven't seen him since you left for Qiao Ge's place," Elder Chen stated with certainty.

"Huh?" I wondered to myself. Burying a child shouldn't take much effort. In the dark, under the drizzling night rain, Ji Ye should have nowhere else to go but to Young Uncle Xiang's house. Furthermore, since Ji Ye had already become Old Man Xiang's apprentice, he should at least be here to keep vigil and show filial piety. His disappearance now—could he be hiding somewhere practicing Old Man Xiang's Xiu arts?

I looked toward Old Man Xiang's portrait again. Perhaps it was the darkness, or the lighting, but his face didn't appear as eerie as it had in daylight; instead, it looked quite peaceful and natural.

"Elder Chen, what do the two blood characters written by Uncle An mean?" I had almost forgotten about it until Tan Ping'er brought it up.

"It's very simple. Today is the Mao day, and the hour Old Man Xiang died, and the hour Qiao Ge's wife had her episode, were both during the Wei hour."

"Ah? So that's the reason." Understanding dawned on me, but then I thought it was wrong. "Even if these two blood characters indicate the time and date of Tima Old Man Xiang's passing and Qiao Ge's wife's episode, why would Ji Ye specifically write these two blood characters to hint at this date and time? And why wouldn't he tell us outright?"

"That... perhaps only your Ji Ye knows that," Elder Chen replied somberly.

Tan Ping'er and I remained silent in the shadows, feeling horrified. After a long silence, Elder Chen said, "Oh, right. After you went to Qiao Ge's house, I went to ask a few families surnamed Tan, but they were all collateral branches of the Tans in Tan City. They knew nothing about the Blood Soul Stele, nor did their ancestors leave behind anything valuable or any last words. I’m afraid you can only follow the hint on the Blood Soul Stele to search for Tan Cheng himself."

This was another heavy blow. I had hoped that even if we couldn't find the Tusi King Tan Cheng, finding his descendants to glean some clues would be good. Unexpectedly, during the abolition of the hereditary chieftain system years ago, the court, fearing the Tusi King might rise again, dispersed Tan Cheng's descendants to other regions. The families surnamed Tan remaining in Tang Ya were not direct descendants of Tan Cheng, making it impossible to gather anything useful. Where could we possibly find Tan Cheng himself? Especially since he had been dead for so long!

Seeing Tan Ping'er and me remain silent, Elder Chen knew we were anxious and tried to comfort us, saying, "Don't rush yourselves. This matter won't be settled in a day or two. Since your Ji Ye has become Old Man Xiang's apprentice, all of Old Man Xiang's skills must have been passed down to him in ways we cannot comprehend. Once Ji Ye has mastered them, you can take your time investigating later."

What he said made sense. The matter of the Blood Soul Stele was complex and bizarre to begin with. Rushing now was useless. It was better to wait until Ji Ye rejoined us. Perhaps after learning Tima Old Man Xiang's abilities and becoming the new Tima, he could use means beyond ordinary comprehension to find the true tomb of Tan Cheng—that would indeed be cause for celebration. Surrounded by such a unique environment and having experienced so many unexplainable events, my thoughts began to overtake my reason, and I grew somewhat superstitious.

"How about this, it's past midnight now, and I assume you have nowhere else to go. Why don't you stay here? There are many people, and all the beds inside are occupied by those who stayed up watching the vigil until they tired out. So, you’ll have to sit on chairs all night, even just to doze off a bit. I can't leave right now. Wait until dawn, and then you both can come to my place for a good sleep. Oh, did you eat enough earlier? If not, the Daoist Masters will have a late-night snack later; you can follow them and have something to eat." Elder Chen's arrangements were very thoughtful.

Hearing Elder Chen mention the Daoist Masters having a "late-night snack," I suddenly recalled Ji Ye mentioning in Anle Cave that the Masters' funeral dirges contained content about "breaking malevolence" (Po Sha). I was about to take this opportunity to inquire about that, but Tan Ping'er interjected, "No need, thank you. We've already eaten. Those Daoist Masters have been working so hard; we shouldn't bother them."

Hearing Tan Ping'er decline, I gave up the plan to chat with the Daoist Masters and told Elder Chen, "You've experienced these kinds of ceremonies many times; did you ever clearly make out the content of the funeral songs the Daoist Masters sang?"

Elder Chen chuckled, "Although others have titled me the 'County-Level Overseer,' I truly never paid attention to what those gentlemen sang. Besides, the Daoist Masters nowadays are heavily influenced by Buddhist and Daoist cultures, so most of the rituals they perform are similar to those elsewhere. Perhaps the only hint of Tujia tradition will be the 'Threading the Flowers' (Chuan Hua) ceremony coming up later..."

"'Threading the Flowers'?" Tan Ping'er interrupted Elder Chen curiously.

"What we call 'Threading the Flowers' here is what they call 'Beating Around the Coffin' (Da Rao Guan) in other Tujia regions. The Daoist Masters will perform this rite after their late-night meal. You two can watch closely; it's very interesting," Elder Chen said with a laugh.

Tan Ping'er grew interested, clutching my arm and saying, "Yingying, don't you dare doze off! You have to watch 'Threading the Flowers' with me, okay?"

I had been rushing around all day, and my mind was filled with a chaotic mess of unresolved thoughts. My eyelids were already heavy. Hearing Tan Ping'er's coquettish tone and soft, lovely voice, I found it hard to refuse. I gently held her hand and replied, "I’ll watch with you, it's not like we have anything else to do anyway. Elder Chen, please busy yourself; don't worry about us."

Elder Chen said a few more things about "everyone finding a chair to sit on" and then went off to attend to his duties. To be so elderly yet still so vigorous was truly astonishing and worthy of admiration.

Tan Ping'er and I found two chairs and sat in a corner of the mourning hall, bored stiff. That scoundrel Man Niao Niao, along with a few local men, was passionately engaged in a game of 'Fighting the Landlord,' shouting and hollering so loudly it rivaled the sound of the firecrackers constantly exploding. He seemed to have completely forgotten about the incident where Old Man Xiang's portrait stared at him.

After their late-night meal, the Daoist Masters began the next rite—Threading the Flowers.

I had seen this rite many times before and no longer found it novel. However, since I promised Tan Ping'er I would watch tonight, I also intended to use this chance to listen carefully to the content of the funeral songs the Masters sang. Thus, as soon as the gongs and drums started, I woke Tan Ping'er, who was dozing on my shoulder, and told her the 'Threading the Flowers' rite had begun. Tan Ping'er immediately became energized, eagerly pulling me into the main hall.

It could be said that the 'Threading the Flowers' rite, during the entire period of the "Three-Day Auspicious Funeral," was a very strange spectacle to outsiders unfamiliar with local customs and folk traditions. The usually solemn and grave mourning hall was transformed by the strangely garbed Daoist Masters, whose drumming and gongs actually lent it an air of festivity. What I saw was—

The leading Daoist Master wore an official robe similar to those worn by the Tang Monk, and a crown similar to the one the Tang Monk wore, holding a leather drum that he beat rhythmically: dong dong zhi xiang. This attire and drum proclaimed him the Master of the Altar. Following closely behind the Master of the Altar were four other Daoist Masters, also dressed eccentrically, each holding a dang dang'er, a small gong (nao'er), a cymbal (bo'er), and a large gong (luo'er), striking them vigorously in time with the drum beats. The melody was rapid and cheerful, possessing a strong sense of rhythm. Not only that, but the five Masters, while beating their instruments, moved around each other in a figure-eight pattern. Thus, the leader quickly circled to the back, then continued to weave through freely, returning to the front position; while weaving back and forth, the Masters struck their instruments while twisting their waists, swaying their hips, squatting and splitting their stances, all with smiles on their faces, performing exaggerated dance movements. Moreover, the Daoist Masters didn't maintain a fixed pattern of weaving but advanced while circling, moving around the coffin in the center. When they reached the front of the coffin, they would bow deeply and exchange greetings. The entire scene was somewhat analogous to the Earth’s rotation and revolution.

To demonstrate their superb skill and to create a festive atmosphere, the Daoist Masters intentionally or unintentionally brought their gongs and drums close to the aunts and young wives who had crowded into the hall to enjoy the "Threading the Flowers" spectacle. They would strike them suddenly, startling the women into uttering delicate curses like "You ill-fated head-choppers!" which rose and fell in chorus. The adults and children gathered around the coffin burst into laughter. Coupled with the earth-shattering sound of firecrackers outside, it truly was: Gongs and drums roaring, firecrackers blazing—only missing the red flags waving!

Although I had seen this many times, I couldn't help but feel deeply moved: To turn a mourning hall that should have been filled with sorrow into such a lively and boisterous scene, perhaps only this ancient Tujia people possess such a peculiar custom!

This truly was: Celebrating the funeral with joy, sending the departed off happily!