Chapter Eighteen: Clothing

Old Master Miao felt a bit puzzled. “What do you mean, someone knows something?”

Zha Wenbin pointed to the doorframe. “Look there, something is pasted on the door. That’s a talisman to ward off corpses. Someone among those people must have recognized it and left. And Grandpa Miao, I don’t think the hole you crawled through that year led into this main hall. Otherwise, you might not be here right now.”

“What do you mean?” Old Master Miao had always thought something was off about that event in the past—why did everyone suddenly stop once they got there?

“Take us to the hole you crawled through back then. I guess that place is safe. Listen to me—this hall is not to be entered. If we force our way in, something bad will happen.”

He spoke so earnestly that all of us had already decided not to go in. Only Fatty Shi laughed and said, “Bring trouble? You talk like a little grown-up. If you all want to crawl in there like dogs, I don’t mind. But as for me, Fatty Shi, I always use the main entrance. Besides, I was born in New China, raised under the red flag. Marxism has taught us to oppose feudal superstition. How can you still believe this nonsense?”

Fatty Shi’s words left Old Master Miao at a loss for words. He knew well that all of us came from families with “issues”—especially Zha Wenbin, whose family had a history with so-called “feudal superstition.” If he admitted to believing in such things, wouldn’t that make him ideologically mistaken as well? If word got out back home, his reputation as a lifelong revolutionary would be ruined.

Seeing Old Master Miao hesitate, Fatty Shi fanned the flames, hoping to get back at us for the trick we played on him earlier. “A scrap of paper has you all so scared. You all stand up straight and call yourselves men? I think even Xiao Bai is braver than you lot. Out of my way! Tonight, I’ll sit right here at the main gate and watch over it for you. If anything happens, I’ll take responsibility!”

With that, he raised his size forty-three feet. With a loud bang, the main door crashed to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust that stung our eyes.

Inside the hall, it was pitch black and reeked of damp mold—probably because no wind had passed through for ages. Old Master Miao had a flashlight, while the rest of us carried torches. Standing outside, we all peered in, but no one dared to move first. To his credit, Fatty Shi was rather bold. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted inside, “Hey there, fellow villagers! Don’t be afraid, we’re good people! We’re here with policy, and we’re all advanced young people with awareness. The Party teaches us not to take even a needle or thread from the people. The army and the people are united as one family…”

I thought to myself, ghosts would be the only ones willing to be part of your family. The more he spoke, the more outrageous he got. After he’d hollered at the doorway for a long while with no response, my heart settled a bit—though Zha Wenbin’s face remained grim.

Fatty Shi turned to us with a grin. “All good sons and daughters of the revolution, lending a hand in a time of need. They’re all reasonable, four-good youths. Tomorrow I’ll report to the organization, bring some joss paper as compensation for this door.” He waved his thumb. “Alright, brothers, let’s go!”

We entered with our torches. The hall was about the size of one and a half basketball courts, empty and bare—no Buddha statue, no altar, nothing like a usual temple’s main hall. In the back corner stood three black coffins, thick with dust. The coffins were propped up on long-legged benches, the middle one being the largest, the two on either side smaller.

No one could feel good seeing something like that. I’d seen coffins before, but only with crowds around. Left alone in a place like this, most people would look uneasy. Perhaps even Fatty Shi hadn’t expected this scene; the atmosphere turned oppressive at once. Old Master Miao, experienced in such matters, instantly shielded us behind him.

No one dared breathe loudly, all our eyes fixed on the coffins. If not for Zha Wenbin’s earlier warning, Old Master Miao wouldn’t have cared much—why should he? He’d fought in wars, rolled among the dead, with broken arms and legs scattered everywhere. What was this by comparison?

Old Master Miao studied the place and realized it wasn’t the same as the building he’d entered years ago. He remembered there had been a Buddha statue, and he’d hidden behind it, sleeping the whole night. This place was empty, nothing like what he recalled. Besides, finding coffins in a temple was odd enough. He started thinking it might be best to take us out.

Seeing everyone was of the same mind, I said, “Let’s go. I don’t want to spend the night here. I’d rather sleep in the woods.”

Fatty Shi probably wanted out too and immediately echoed, “Sure, it’s more comfortable in the woods. I’ll stand guard for you again tonight if need be.”

Old Master Miao looked at Yuan Xiaobai, who was already hiding behind me. He knew we were all just kids. Superstition aside, a natural reverence for death is part of human nature. He patted my shoulder. “Alright, let’s go.”

“No!” The speaker was Zha Wenbin. His face was still boyish, but his tone left no room for negotiation. “I told you not to come, but you insisted. Now you’re here, something bad’s happened, and you want to leave? That’s just putting others in danger!”

Fatty Shi bristled. “Hey, can you make yourself clear? Who did I endanger? All I did was kick down a door—how did I cause any trouble?”

He looked ready for a confrontation. Fatty Shi wasn’t a bad guy at heart, but when he dug in, he was more stubborn than the rest of us. Zha Wenbin’s face flushed with anger. “You wouldn’t understand even if I explained!”

“Bah, stop pretending you know magic!” He thumped his chest. “A hero’s son is a hero, a reactionary’s son is a scoundrel! I swear to Comrade Marx, my heart is red as the sun, and wherever I go, there will be light!” Then, pointing at the coffins, he cursed, “You poisonous remnants of the feudal dynasty, hiding under the roofs of these stinking old literati, do you think you can escape the great proletarian revolution? Bah! Prepare to face the people’s judgment! The great leader Mao taught us to overthrow all monsters and demons, to keep them down forever!”

As he finished with a flourish, he struck a classic Red Guard pose and slammed his size forty-three foot down hard on the floor.

With a tremendous crash, the floorboards instantly split. I don’t know if Fatty Shi regretted it at that moment, but I certainly did—I deeply regretted hanging around with such a jinx.

The ground beneath us began to shake, and I heard my companions scream. In a heartbeat, the entire floor of the hall collapsed. These rotting boards were no match for Fatty Shi’s antics. When everything finally settled, I had two lumps on my forehead the size of eggs, and Yuan Xiaobai had landed on my chest, crushing the breath out of me.

I don’t know where I found the nerve, but I couldn’t take it anymore. Lying under the rubble, I shouted, “Fatty Shi, damn you! Are you trying to get us all buried alive so we can go meet Marx together?”

Fatty Shi wasn’t far off. I heard his voice. “It was an accident, just an accident! Oww, Xiaoyi, hurry and help me out, something’s crushing my leg…”

“Kids, are you all still there?” It was Old Master Miao, clearing the debris off himself. Luckily, this lower level wasn’t too deep. Soon, he and Zha Wenbin had found their way to us, and after making sure we were all right, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hurry up, I’m in so much pain!” Fatty Shi was still yelling. A relatively intact plank separated us, so we could hear but not see him.

It was pitch dark below. Old Master Miao’s flashlight had fallen four or five meters away and was wedged under some boards, out of reach. Our torches had disappeared too. Zha Wenbin, however, had fire starters—a skill his master had taught him. He pulled one out and lit it with a breath, but it only gave a weak flame. I had a sudden idea and called out, “General Shi, it’s too dark—we can’t see you. Why don’t you take off your clothes and toss them over? We’ll make a torch so we can find you.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you want me to strip now? Fine, catch!” Soon after, a piece of clothing came flying over. Without looking, I wrapped it around a bit of broken plank and held it to Zha Wenbin’s fire.

Zha Wenbin glanced at it. “Wait, Xiaoyi, where did you get this clothing?”

I said, “Fatty Shi took it off.”

“No, this isn’t his—it’s a burial shroud, something for the dead!”

I yelped in fright and flung it away. Zha Wenbin, unafraid, picked it up, wrapped it around some wood, and lit it with his fire starter. Instantly, a roaring flame blazed up. From the other side of the plank, we heard Fatty Shi wail, “Hurry up, brothers! I took that guy’s clothes off, now he’s trying to pull down my pants. Please, I’m begging you, hurry…”