Chapter 211: The Old Man of the Spirit House

"One hundred and one?" Xuan's eyes widened.

Luo Shi's tears came out again: "If the fox is also a human, you are indeed the one hundred and one." I don't want to remember it so clearly, I only remember how many men I slept with, and I don't remember what each man looked like, even though I shared a bed with them. A large teardrop slid down the left side of her face. Xuan Po was distressed for a while.

Xuan Po reached out a hand to wipe the tears from her face.

Luo Fu pinched Xuan Po's wrist, I don't know if it was because of Xuan Po's gentle movements or because she remembered the unbearable past, she couldn't cry even more. More tears flowed from the water.

"My favorite poor talent, but he is not one of them. That abominable fox turned out to be the first. Rashiki's lips were bitten out of blood by his teeth, and bright red slowly crept out from the corners of his mouth. What usually comes out there is someone else's blood. "And you, the only one I've ever slept with and won't hurt."

Xuan Po nodded: "Don't say it, Luo Shi, don't say it." He grabbed Rashiki's shoulders with both hands and shook them gently.

I don't know, when my father was counting his life, whether he counted that there was such a person as a mother-in-law, whether he counted a female pervert and a man who didn't kill. Perhaps this was inconsequential to Grandpa, so nothing was mentioned in the manuscript. However, the shrewd Gem Daoist definitely didn't calculate, and this was the most wrong mistake for the Gem Daoist. He wanted to use that poem to attract the attention of the female pervert, but he never expected that she would fall in love with the person who read the poem, let alone that the person who read the poem and the person who listened to the poem would actually pierce his lie.

That night, Grandpa fell ill. After all, the age is coming, and the day and night drawing talismans make the grandfather's physical strength overdrawn. Coupled with his incessant smoking, lung disease became more frequent.

Grandpa was lying on the bed, his lips white. He called his grandmother and asked her to help him go to Wentian Village to find an old man who made a spiritual house.

I hadn't mentioned Wen Tiancun, the old man who made a spiritual house, he was too old, and he was panting very badly when he walked, as if he had to make great efforts to catch it in the next breath, but his thin body couldn't afford such a big load at all. Therefore, it gives people the feeling that they are about to die, and maybe one night they will be scattered and return to the west.

This old man has no children and no daughters, and lives in a cramped alley in Wentian Village. Sometimes, my mother and I had to go through that alleyway when we went to my grandfather's house, but of course we could have taken another way to get around there. If the weather was a little wetter, my mother and I wouldn't have walked down that lane, preferring to walk around it. Only occasionally pass by there on sunny days in order to get shortcut.

Because there are old houses on both sides of the laneway, the walls are much higher than ordinary houses. And most of the old houses are no longer inhabited, lack of maintenance, and the walls are falling down.

When my mother and I passed by, we were always worried that the crooked walls were going to fall, and we always wanted to pass through the alleyway as quickly as possible. However, if it rains, the drainage in the roadway is not smooth, the thin mud is very deep, and it is easy to fall when you go fast. So, my mom and I would rather walk more than take a shortcut.

The old man who made the spiritual house lived in that alley, and except for the occasional time he went out to cut bamboo and buy paper, he lived at home at other times. Those who passed by outside only had to hear the sound of stabbing bamboo in his house to know that the old man was still alive, and they could expect that someone else was dead nearby. Because the old man's masterpiece can only be used at funerals...... Spiritual House.

I don't know which dynasty this funeral method became popular, and after a person dies, his relatives always have to burn something for him. I've heard of many other places where valuables are buried with them, and maybe it's similar to burning things. On the day of the burial, we burned some houses made of paper and bamboo for the deceased, so that the deceased could have a place to live in the underworld. Of course, gold and silver are difficult to burn, so they also use paper and bamboo to make the shape of a mountain, and then draw a lot of ingots on the paper.

The mourning house is made of bamboo, and then white paper is glued to the outside, and then the doors and windows are drawn on the white paper. When burning the spirit house, you need a person to take care of it, and the spirit house can't fall down as soon as it burns, you must first let the paper burn the skeleton and stand there, and then the skeleton will slowly burn out. If the white paper on the house falls before it is burned out, the house is not given to the deceased in good condition. This responsibility is to blame for the fact that the person who burned the house will not maintain it; Second, we have to blame the people who do the spirit house for not being able to get home.

Therefore, the spirit house was not something that anyone could do, and it was also a special craft in the countryside at that time.

And the old man of Wentiancun is especially good at this. Without children to support, it is not enough to rely on the help of the village, so he relies on this craft to earn some money to buy oil and salt, and also win the respect of everyone.

I knew this man, but I didn't remember what he looked like. Although I often went to my grandfather's house and passed by it a lot, I rarely saw him in person.

A few times when I came back from my grandfather's house, he wanted to send me over a mountain between Wentian Village and Thrush Village, and my grandfather stopped at the old man's doorstep many times. I continued to walk home, but my grandfather turned around and went into the old man's house. I can guess what Grandpa would talk to him about, not about hell, but about the old days when they were young.

Unless someone came to him and asked him for help, Grandpa generally didn't like to talk to someone casually about magic things. I guess the same is true of the old man who made the spirit house. Sometimes, I think that people of their generation are like supporting characters on the stage, swaying freely when they come out and don't say a word when they leave the stage, unlike our generation.

When I think of them, I sigh and feel that the vicissitudes of life are a kind of cruelty.

Grandma walked into the old shrunken alleyway in the darkness of the night and knocked on the old man's door.

The knock on the door of the "tuk tuk tuk ......" woke up a dirt dog sleeping inside the door.

"Wow ......" the earth dog responded to the knock on the door, but woke the old man in the back room.

"Who......" came an old voice. Due to the very high walls on both sides of the roadway, this sound cannot get out of the alley.

"It's me, Ma Yueyun." Grandma didn't report her own name, but she gave her grandfather's name.