In my memory, when I was very young, my father wasn't well. His face was always pale and looked sickly.

Sometimes, if he walks a few extra steps, he gets out of breath.

Most of the time, my dad would sit at our doorway with a stool in one hand and a dry tobacco pipe in the other, gazing into the distance, puffing away on his pipe.

He sat there for a long time, not eating, not saying anything. I have no idea what he was thinking.

I know, my dad must have some kind of illness that's causing him to act like this.

From a young age, I never fought with the kids in the village because they would say my dad was a useless man.

Without my dad's labor, our family's only income source would be grandpa.

Speaking of our family, there are only three men: my grandfather, my father, and me. There is no memory of my mother in my mind.

Grandpa was considered a prominent figure in our village, but his role was rather unique. He didn't handle funerals, only grave relocation.

It is said in the Classic of Funerary Rites that feng shui constantly shifts, returning in a small cycle after half a generation and in a large cycle after a full generation. Therefore, regardless of how good the feng shui of a tomb is, it will eventually suffer damage after a certain amount of time.

Relocating a grave is a common practice among people who want to maintain the feng shui of their ancestral tombs. This involves exhuming the coffin and reburying it in another location considered auspicious according to feng shui principles.

Our village is located in a remote mountainous area of Guizhou Province. It's so isolated, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that even birds don't poop here. It takes two hours just to walk from our village to the main road.

Just because they are remote, the villagers mostly believe these things to be true.

This makes the grandfather's trade relatively stable.

I remember that after I was six years old, whenever my grandfather moved his tomb, I would always follow behind and help.

I have a lantern in my hand, given to me by my grandfather, called a "ding guan deng" or coffin lamp. After the grave is dug open, I must hold up the ding guan deng and go into the tomb, tying a rope to the coffin. My grandfather told me this is how you do the ritual of holding the coffin.

The mourner, facing the coffin, needs to hold their breath. If they can't hold it any longer, they must turn their head away to breathe, then continue holding the coffin after catching their breath! In simpler terms, you should not directly breathe towards the coffin.

If the lamp goes out during the process, we must immediately stop everything and fill the coffin. This indicates that the deceased does not consent to the relocation. Of course, in all these years, I haven't encountered such a situation.

Every time Grandpa comes back from moving graves, he brings back a tortoise used for the ceremony. At first, I thought this was just a way to make money, but after being scolded by Grandpa, I didn't dare say anything anymore.

After he came back, grandpa would kill the pig to add to our meals. I had to drink a bowl of raw blood every time. At first, grandpa forced me to drink it, but later I got used to it.

I'm not cut out for studying. After high school, I didn't get into college, so I just helped my grandfather with odd jobs. He only taught me how to prepare coffins and light the funeral lamps.

I had asked grandpa several times to teach me the skills of moving graves. After all, I thought that if I learned it, I could take on jobs myself and help ease the burden on my family.

But I was rejected by my grandfather. He said I could talk about it after I understood how to hold the coffin properly. This made me very distressed.

I thought my life would just go on like this, get married and have a child, and stay in this village for the rest of my life.

Until I was twenty years old...

At that time, it was early autumn. Our village's 土老财 (tǔ lǎocái) came to grandpa. This fellow Wang Yuansheng was well-known in our village. It is said that his ancestor was a wealthy landowner. Although he had been persecuted, luckily, he hid most of his property, benefiting his descendants.

Wang Yuansheng was in his prime, with a round belly. As soon as he entered, the arrogance that usually plastered his face softened somewhat, and a smile appeared.

"Third Master, I have a bit of business that would trouble you!"

Grandfather's name is Chen Sangu, everyone in the village calls him "Sangu," but this Wang Yuansheng has a bad reputation in our village. He did some unethical things and had three wives, only giving birth to three sons. People say that this guy was too wicked when he was young and received his retribution.

The grandfather puffed on his pipe and remained silent. Wang Yuansheng seemed to be getting anxious, so he directly held up five fingers: "Fifty thousand, Third Master, do me a favor!"

When I heard Wang Yuansheng say that, my heart skipped a beat. Fifty thousand? Usually, I only take on a single job for a few hundred to a thousand yuan. I really wanted to agree on behalf of my grandfather.

At the same time, I was also curious in my heart, what kind of thing did Wang Yuansheng ask grandpa to do? There is no reason for such a high price for moving graves.

At this moment, the grandfather's voice echoed softly: "What's the matter?"

Wang Yuansheng's eyes flickered slightly, then he leaned closer to his grandfather and whispered, "Second burial!"

As Wang Yuansheng's voice fell, I clearly saw Grandpa pause his pipe-smoking for a moment, and his cloudy eyes widened slightly.

"You still remember this?" After a brief moment, the grandfather regained his composure and looked at Wang Yuansheng.

Wang Yuansheng smiled awkwardly and didn't respond.

Right now I am lost in thought. A second funeral? That phrase feels familiar. Then it hit me, when I was a child I once saw my grandfather's ancient book and there seemed to be a mention of it. The memory is very vivid because that time I got beaten so badly my butt bloomed like a flower.

The book states that a secondary burial is a taboo among grave relocation practices, and most people would not dare to use this method.

Because this kind of relocation is not simply moving the coffin, it also requires opening it, sorting the remains in the coffin, and dressing them anew before the coffin is buried again. The taboo involved is harming one's virtue.

I don't know much, I was caught by my grandfather back then, and I only remember these things.

"One hundred and fifty thousand, it's not a small amount anymore. It's time to build a new house and get married! If you can agree to this, I'll go on a trip!"

I suddenly heard my grandfather's nonchalant voice, "Fifteen million!" I was afraid that my grandfather wouldn't agree before, it seems like his appetite is bigger than I imagined.

Now, building a two-story new house in the countryside costs around 100,000 yuan. With 50,000 yuan left over, I felt a surge of emotions. Grandpa must finally be making arrangements for my marriage!

But in my heart, I was thinking of another thing: when the money came through, I wanted to take my dad to the big hospital downtown for a check-up.

Wang Yuansheng winced in pain, but eventually nodded in agreement. His grandfather set a date, saying it could be done tonight and asked Wang Yuansheng to arrange for some manpower.

With Wang Yuansheng's departure, grandfather extinguished his cigarette and stood up from the stool. He addressed me, "Kid, pack your things."

I quickly packed up my everyday things. As I was leaving, I saw my dad walk out of his room where he rests. His face was still as pale as ever.

Watch out a bit.

My dad suddenly told me to do something, so I nodded. I let him rest first. As for taking him to the big hospital for a check-up, I think it's fine to tell him when the money arrives.

Stepping out of the house, I was completely unaware that this act would plunge our entire family into an abyss.

(Editor in charge：dexter novels)