Chapter 230: The Gong Gambler

When Wen Sazi left the greenhouse, my grandfather and I stayed in the greenhouse waiting for the gong to be struck. So, my grandfather and I didn't know that Mr. Ichimoku had sneaked into Fumisako's room.

Because my grandfather climbed a mountain to reach Thrush Village, and I walked two or three miles along a small stream to Changshan Village, we were not in a hurry at all because it was late. My grandfather and I listened to the white-haired woman in the hall singing filial piety songs while waiting for the gong striker to arrive. The white-haired woman's filial piety song is indeed sung well, and the trance is really like the underworld floating suddenly.

The gong ringer that grandpa was waiting for was from Fangjiazhuang, who was about the same age as grandpa, but because he loved gambling when he was young, his wife left him with the child, and he has not been heard from since. This gambler can't do any farm work except throwing dice, and his family is naturally inevitably poor. Later, after being introduced by his grandfather, he followed a fat Taoist priest in Hongjiaduan to learn to play the trumpet at the funeral, but he was too lazy to even play the trumpet. The fat Taoist priest quit him because of his grandfather's bad feelings, so he asked him to beat the gong.

Striking the gong is an easy job, and this is the easiest way to do funeral rites. Originally, this work was done by the Taoist priest himself, and after each short bar of trumpet, or a short song of filial piety, he would pick up a wooden stick wrapped in red cotton cloth and strike it on the gong. Now that this job is done by one person, it is even easier. The lazy man of Fangjiazhuang naturally accepted the task of striking the gong happily. Still, this person is often late. The white-haired woman had been singing no less than ten stanzas in the hall, and the gong striker had not yet arrived.

I got impatient after waiting for a while, but considering my grandfather's loneliness, I had to sit patiently in the shed and wait.

Grandfather's generation is getting less and less. As soon as the old man who was in the spirit house died this time, grandpa must have negative thoughts in his heart. This proves that there is one less person who can talk about their era with his grandfather.

"If this lazy man doesn't come again, I'm leaving." Grandpa couldn't sit still. His words seem to be addressed to anyone, and they seem to be addressed to himself.

"Wait a little longer." Instead, I began to persuade my grandfather to be patient and wait.

As soon as he finished speaking, a stumbling figure walked into the greenhouse. As soon as the figure entered the greenhouse, his body softened, and his hands clung to the pine branches on the door frame of the greenhouse. The whole person is like a piece of bacon hanging from it. The skin is really sallow and salallow like bacon, but the face has a red glow with the smell of wine.

Grandpa hurriedly got up and ran over to help him: "You are not afraid of losing the face of the Fang family, everyone has been singing filial piety songs for a long time, and I haven't seen you come to beat the gong!" ”

The man held the door frame with one hand and put the other on his grandfather's shoulder, and said stubbornly: "Old man Ma Yueyun, you don't know, where can I afford to lose the face of the Fang family?" I don't have a wife or child, and no matter how embarrassed I am, I will only lose my own face. ”

"You're still hard-mouthed." Grandpa said about him, but there was no expression of blame on his face. Grandpa helped him, and the two stumbled into the hall. I walked after them.

There are many people sitting in the hall, including Taoist priests and ordinary people who listen to filial piety songs. There was an extra white paper screen in the hall, on which were some poems of mourning for the old man. In the center of the screen hangs a vertical picture of eighteen layers of hell. The screen kept the coffin behind it, and it had to be circumvented to see it, not knowing if it was because they were afraid to see the coffin at night.

In front of the screen is a table of eight immortals, and one side of the table is next to the screen. There is also a section below the eighteenth layer of hell that falls on the table, pressed with a shocking wood. The startling wood is the magic tool of the Taoist, and at the beginning and end of the practice, the Taoist priest will pick it up and smash it hard, knocking on the table like the ancient county magistrate to try the case, reminding the people in the hall to pay attention.

On the opposite side of the table of the Eight Immortals sat two Taoist priests, one woman and three men. On the left is the fat Taoist priest sitting first, on the right is the white-haired woman sitting first, and the other two Taoist priests are also familiar faces, but I don't remember their names. The white-haired woman was responsible for singing filial piety songs, the other three male Taoist priests were responsible for blowing trumpets, and the fat Taoist priests occasionally knocked on the wooden fish.

The gong striker is also one of them. But the gong striker can't sit with them.

A bench is erected, and the gong hangs at the foot of the bench, and next to the gong is a low chair, where the gong striker sits. It seems that there are also ranks among Taoist priests.

When the white-haired woman saw that the gong was coming, she muttered a few words of complaining, gave the gong beater a disgusting look, and then began to sing her filial piety song again.

The fat Taoist priest of the Hong family didn't seem to see his grandfather come in with the gong beater, blowing the trumpet on his mouth seriously, and his cheeks bulging like frogs.

Grandpa helped the gong striker to sit on a low chair.

The gong beater burped, then picked up a wooden stick wrapped in a red calico cloth and began to strike the gong. My grandfather and I sat down next to him.

The sound ......of the gong is loud and long, and it is easy to bring one's mind back to the past.

"I heard that you suffered a backlash after subduing the Rose Taoist priest and the female pervert?" The gong striker asked Grandpa.

"yes." Grandpa replied casually.

"I said, don't hunt ghosts. Look at this dead old man, who has been a spiritual house all his life, and in the end there is no one to answer him. The handiwork also went to the underworld. The gong striker shook his head and said, "Old man Yue Yun, don't like to listen to it, your craftsmanship is not as good as his, he can still use the spirit house to exchange some money for oil and salt, what about you?" You can't earn money for oil and salt, you can't eat a few meals of wine and food, and your body is tired. When you are old, you must take good care of your muscles and bones. ”

Grandpa smiled wryly.

The gong striker then said, "Look at me, lazy is lazy, I admit it." But what's so bad about being lazy? In the end, people are still a handful of dirt, and they still have to be buried in the soil. Why do you have to work so hard when you are alive! ”

Grandpa didn't answer, he took out a cigarette and handed it to the gong ringer. But the gong striker did not take the cigarette, and he said, "I don't smoke cigarettes, but I will drink wine." Smoking is not good for your health, and drinking some alcohol can also dredge your muscles and bones. I'm not like you, I'm someone who knows how to protect myself. Just as the white-haired woman had finished singing another short stanza, the gong striker followed and struck the gong on the bench.

Grandpa lit a cigarette by himself, took a puff, and asked, "If your old man is in trouble with a ghost, who will your old man go to?" After saying that, my grandfather spit out the circles under his eyes, and I almost burst into tears next to me.

"Then I can't look for you?" The gong striker said.

"Isn't that it?" Grandpa smiled, and the furrow on his face was very obvious.

"I heard that you caught a female pervert and a vixen this time, and you also invited the lost god of General Poe? How did you get it to happen? Anyone who has been lost there has never seen a lost god. Why did it promise to help you? The gong striker stretched his neck like a goose at Grandpa and asked curiously.