The Yin-Suppressing Coffin

In my earliest memories, my father had always been in poor health, his face so pale it almost seemed unnatural. Sometimes, after taking just a few steps, he would be out of breath. On ordinary days, the most I would see of him was holding a wooden stool, a dry pipe clutched in his hand, sitting at the door of our house, gazing out at the distant sky. He’d puff on his tobacco, one drag after another, without a care. He could sit there for hours, and unless we called him for food, he wouldn't move an inch. What he was thinking, I never knew. But I know—there must be something wrong with his body to become it. When I was very young, I used to fight with the other kids in the village, mostly because they liked to call my father a useless man. With my father unable to work, the only income our family had came from my grandfather. Our family had three men: my grandfather, my father, and me. I had no memories of my grandmother or mother. My grandfather was a yin and yang master，but his work was different from others. He didn’t handle funerals or burials. Instead, he specialized in relocating graves. There’s an old saying about burial sites: "Feng Shui changes with time, sometimes a half-century, sometimes a full cycle." No matter how perfect a burial plot, over time it will inevitably deteriorate. This made grave relocation a necessary service for those who wished to preserve their ancestors' Feng Shui. The process involved exhuming the body and moving it to a new, more favorable site. Our village was tucked away in a remote mountain range in KuiYin Province. You could call it a place where even birds refused to poop. It took two hours just to walk from the village to the nearest road. Because of its isolation, the villagers were deeply superstitious and had a firm belief in these practices, which provided a steady income for my grandfather. I remember from the age of six, whenever my grandfather relocated a grave, I would follow him, carrying an oil lamp called a "fixed coffin light." When the grave was opened, I was responsible for holding the lamp while lowering it into the tomb, tying a rope around the coffin. Grandfather called this "hold the coffin." The person holding the coffin had to face it directly, holding their breath. If they can’t manage it, they need to turn their head, take a breath, and then continue. Simply put, you weren’t allowed to breathe directly over the coffin. If the fixed coffin lamp went out during the process, everything had to stop immediately. The tomb would be refilled. This signified that the spirit of the deceased didn’t agree with the grave relocation. Fortunately, in all these years, that never happened. Every time grandfather returned from a grave relocation, he would bring back a rooster for the ritual. At first, I thought it was just a way to make money, but after getting scolded by my grandfather, I never dared to mention it again. After returning home, grandfather would kill the rooster for food, but I had to drink a bowl of its fresh blood each time. At first, it was forced upon me, but eventually, I got used to it. I wasn’t cut out for studying. After high school, I didn’t make it into college and started helping my grandfather with odd jobs. He only taught me how to hold the coffin and light the fixed coffin lamp. I asked grandfather several times to teach me the skill of relocating graves, thinking that once I learned, I could take on some work myself and help support the family. But my grandfather refused. He said I had to master holding the coffin first. This frustrated me greatly. I thought my life would continue down the same peaceful path—get married, have kids, and live out my days in this village. Then, everything changed when I turned twenty… It was early autumn when a wealthy man from our village, Wang Yuansheng, came to see my grandfather. He was well-known in the village, his family had been rich once, though his fortune had been hidden away after some political turmoil. His ancestors’ wealth had spared the family from hardship. Wang Yuansheng is a middle-aged man, a rotund figure with a large belly. As he entered our house, his usual arrogance softened, replaced by a broad, almost eager smile. "Third Master." I have a business proposition that might trouble you." Grandfather’s name was Chen Sangu, and most people in the village called him "Third Master." But Wang Yuansheng wasn’t well-liked around here. He’d done a lot of shady things, had three wives, but only produced three daughters. The village folks liked to say he’d paid for his youthful misdeeds. Grandfather puffed on his dry pipe, not answering. Wang Yuansheng seemed a bit worried, and he held up five fingers. "Fifty thousand, Third Master. Please help me out." Fifty thousand! My heart raced. On average, grandfather would only get a few hundred or a thousand for a job. I was tempted to speak up and agree for him. But I was also curious. Why was Wang Yuansheng offering such a high price? Relocating graves didn’t need cost that much. Then, grandfather’s voice broke through my thoughts, calm and steady. "What’s the business?" Wang Yuansheng hesitated, and then leaned in to whisper, "A second burial." As soon as those words left his mouth, I saw my grandfather freeze for a moment, his cloudy eyes widening slightly. "You know this?" After a brief pause, grandfather regained his composure, looking at Wang with a piercing gaze. Wang gave a sheepish smile and didn’t respond. I was lost in thought. "Second burial?" The term sounded vaguely familiar. Suddenly,An image flashed through my mind. I remembered sneaking a peek at one of my grandfather’s ancient books when I was a child. There was a mention of second burials, and it had left a deep impression on me—not least because of the beating I’d gotten for it. The book had said that a second burial was a forbidden practice in grave relocation. It wasn’t just about moving a coffin. You had to open the coffin, clean and dress the body, and then rebury it. The taboo involved was the violation of spiritual laws, specifically damaging one’s "Yin virtue." I didn’t know much else, as grandfather had caught me reading it and scolded me, but the memory stuck with me. "hundred and fifty thousand, Wuji isn't young anymore, it's time for him to buy a new house and get a wife. If you agree to this, I’ll take the job." hundred and fifty thousand! I had feared grandfather would refuse, but his appetite for money was greater than I’d imagined. With hundred and fifty thousand, I could build a two-story house, which would cost less than ten thousand, and still have some left over. I felt a surge of emotion—grandfather was finally remembering things, setting me up to get married. But my thoughts were elsewhere. Once the money was in hand, I planned to take my father to a big hospital in the city for a check-up. Wang Yuansheng winced but finally agreed, and my grandfather set the date—We can do it tonight. Wang Yuansheng was to gather some people to help. As Wang Yuansheng left, my grandfather snuffed out his pipe and stood up, turning to me. "Boy, pack up your things." I quickly gathered my belongings, and just before heading out, I saw my father come out of his room. His face was as pale as ever. "Be careful." He said this cryptic phrase to me, and I nodded. I told him to rest, and figured I’d wait until the money came into my hands before telling him about the hospital visit. However, to my surprise, because of this so-called second burial, our family was plunged into an abyss in the near future ......