Chapter 27: The Burial

Cheng Luyun’s gaze swept over Huang Wei and Huang Chengcheng’s faces, then she gave a light huff. She spoke to Huang Wei first. “The village chief sent word summoning everyone to the village entrance. I’ll tidy up the dishes. You take Chengcheng to Sister Cui’s house. Their child is about the same age — they can play together. When we come back, we’ll pick up Chengcheng.”

Huang Wei acknowledged and scooped up Huang Chengcheng.

As she carried her out the door, once they were beyond the gate, Huang Chengcheng whispered, “Daddy, you’re really amazing.”

Huang Wei was puzzled. “How so?”

“Mommy was super angry last night — so angry her face changed color. When she went downstairs to wait for you, Chengcheng was sure Daddy would suffer badly. But then Daddy came back, pulled Mommy upstairs, and she wasn’t angry anymore. She just made you and Chengcheng eat that awful food this morning. Daddy is the first one who’s ever managed that!”

It really was true what they said about daughters being thoughtful little padded jackets. Huang Wei couldn’t help but reflect on that.

Look at all the things Huang Chengcheng had just revealed in a single breath. If she were Cheng Luyun, she’d want to clamp her hand over the girl’s mouth. This little boss clearly knew everything that happened last night. Ghosts didn’t even need sleep; that innocent, sound-asleep act had surely been a performance — otherwise, how could she know what went on?

And according to Huang Chengcheng, Cheng Luyun had indeed been furious last night, even to the point of her face changing color… That matched what Huang Wei saw when she returned — Cheng Luyun hadn’t even put on her gentle mask. On the other hand, the fact that she’d escaped last night and made up for it this morning with that utterly miserable breakfast suggested the matter was closed.

What intrigued Huang Wei most was the word “first.” “The first one” — what did that mean? The first person not to be killed when Cheng Luyun got angry? Then who exactly had angered her before?

Huang Wei’s mind raced. First, she ruled out the villagers — there was no way that lot would dare provoke Cheng Luyun’s anger, judging by their attitude. Nor could it be the players, since even now they didn’t know Cheng Luyun was the big boss, let alone get close enough to anger her. So… other “husbands”?

Huang Wei had always been self-aware. She didn’t consider herself uniquely special, an irreplaceable piece of this story. She was just a screw in a machine, easily swapped out. Following that logic, there must have been other guides before her.

What happened to them? Huang Wei didn’t know, but she could guess: likely dead. Whether killed by Cheng Luyun or the system, they were gone for good.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here now. Though why — given the novel and system settings — the guide should’ve been a man, there’d been a glitch, and instead it was her, a woman.

Which led to this current, somewhat ludicrous situation: everyone called her “Brother Wei,” and both Cheng Luyun and Huang Chengcheng were playing along with the charade.

Huang Wei reached out and patted Huang Chengcheng’s head. She didn’t know if the little one was being deliberate or careless, but she kept feeding her crucial information. For that, Huang Wei was genuinely grateful.

“Play nicely at Sister Cui’s. We’ll come get you later.”

Huang Chengcheng chirped her agreement.

After saying goodbye, Huang Wei turned to see Cheng Luyun already standing at the doorway, waiting to walk together. Huang Wei nodded at her, and the two headed toward the village entrance. The moment they arrived, a burly lad pulled Huang Wei aside and shoved a set of white mourning clothes into her hands.

Before Huang Wei could react, the man said, “Brother Wei, hurry and put them on.” Huang Wei turned to look for Cheng Luyun, but the dense crowd of villagers had swallowed her up; she was nowhere to be seen.

Huang Wei knew that after Huang Wu’s death, a funeral was inevitable, but she hadn’t expected it to be so soon. The man died last night, and they were already holding the rites today.

Still dazed, her hands moved on autopilot, swiftly donning the mourning garb. Before she could ask anything, she was swept along by the crowd to Huang Wu’s parents’ house.

The Huang Wu household had acted fast — white cloth was already hung, and a coffin sat in the main hall. In front of it, a brazier burned paper offerings. Huang Wu’s wife, supported by other village women, was crying her heart out. One moment she wailed about her bleak future as a widow, the next about Huang Wu’s horrific death, and then she was cursing those outsiders again.

The village chief, draped in a layer of white hemp, sat to the side, his expression unreadable. The two grief-stricken elders nearby had to be Huang Wu’s parents. But none of them had any connection to Huang Wei. Involuntarily, she began searching for Cheng Luyun. She’d much rather stay with her than with this crowd of ghosts.

She finally spotted Cheng Luyun among the group in the courtyard, seemingly helping with something. Huang Wei had been away from the countryside so long she’d nearly forgotten all the funeral customs — and anyway, every area had its own traditions. Even if she remembered how funerals were conducted, they probably wouldn’t match Huang Family Village’s practices.

Every village naturally had its own rules. If the village was large enough, even the front and back ends might have different customs. Huang Family Village, of course, had its own — but these customs were remarkably careless. Huang Wu died last night; they planned to bury him this morning. A large crowd had already paid brief respects in front of his coffin, tossed some money to his wife, and prepared for burial.

When it was Huang Wei’s turn to pay respects, she felt deeply awkward. Where would she get a single cent? It was Cheng Luyun who came to her rescue, pulling a hundred-yuan bill from her pocket and handing it to Huang Wu’s wife. The wife just kept crying without a word. Watching her, Huang Wei worried she might cry herself to death.

Once that round was done, the next step was the burial procession.

Thankfully, they didn’t assign Huang Wei to carry the coffin. She just had to walk behind it, scattering paper money.

With Huang Wei’s thin, frail frame, no one would dream of making her a pallbearer — they’d be afraid she’d drop the coffin. But as the casket was carried out of Huang Wu’s family home, all the women — except Huang Wu’s wife and mother — stayed behind, not crossing the threshold.

Huang Wei understood: in this village, women weren’t allowed at the grave.

This backward custom wasn’t unique to Huang Family Village. Back in the world Huang Wei came from, her own hometown also barred women from graves. When she was little, adults would concoct reasons for it. As she grew older, they didn’t even bother with excuses anymore — it was just “the way things are.” Women simply weren’t permitted to follow.

If the deceased was a younger family member, the older women of the household could come along, but once they reached the burial site, they had to watch from a distance without approaching the grave. This custom existed in many places — Huang Family Village, Huang Wei’s hometown, and elsewhere. But sooner or later, it would die out. In modern cities, that rule was already gone.

Now, the dead rested in public cemeteries; anyone who wished could visit. No more rules barring women from graves.

Huang Wei walked with the funeral procession heading out of the village, scattering paper money from her hands. The white papers drifted down like snowflakes, slowly falling to the ground before being trampled by those following behind. Ahead, Huang Wu’s brothers carried his black-and-white portrait, wailing as they walked. Behind, the elderly village women supported the sobbing Huang Wu’s wife, her cries coming in breathless bursts.

For a moment, the mourning atmosphere swelled genuinely. The procession circled once through the village, waiting until the chief declared the auspicious hour before proceeding outside.

When the procession reached the village entrance, Huang Wei saw all seven players standing beneath the old locust tree, watching from afar. Huang Wu’s wife saw them too and tried to rush at Wang Ling again, but the village women held her firmly in place.

The procession headed to Huang Wu’s field. That was the custom here — the dead were buried in their own family’s field. The positioning had its own rules: not in the exact center, nor right beside the small stream.

Once they followed the field ridges to the designated spot, several men had already dug out a mound, ready to lower Huang Wu into the ground.

Huang Family Village indeed didn’t stand on ceremony. In this day and age, to still practice direct earth burial without cremation was a rarity. In Huang Wei’s hometown, people were also buried in the fields, but now they buried urns of ashes, not coffins. As Huang Wei inwardly grumbled, she watched Huang Wu’s wife and mother standing on the field ridge, never once stepping down.

After Huang Wu was interred, the chief ordered all the villagers to each toss a shovel of dirt to bid him farewell. Huang Wei hadn’t expected to be included. Only then did she realize Huang Wu was a cousin within the fifth degree of kinship. No wonder she’d been placed right behind the coffin — so she was a relative.

Thank goodness Huang Wu didn’t look like her; otherwise, she’d have been thoroughly creeped out.

Huang Wei accepted the shovel someone handed her, scooped up a heap of earth, and scattered it over the coffin. She felt not a shred of sorrow. She’d barely known Huang Wu, and besides, she knew he was a ghost. Next instance reset, she’d see him again. For all these reasons, Huang Wei felt nothing about his death.

As a close cousin, Huang Wei also had to bow to Huang Wu at the end.

The burial dragged on for half the morning. Finally, the group headed back to Huang Wu’s family home in a lively, bustling crowd. After all that work, a lunch feast had surely been prepared there. One meal, and it’d be over.

Huang Wei actually loved village banquets. For little money per table, the food could be even better than restaurants. But the moment she thought of Cheng Luyun’s cooking, all interest in the banquet evaporated. Cheng Luyun hadn’t come along, so she must be helping at Huang Wu’s house. While someone with her cooking skills would never be put in charge of the main dishes — a young woman like her wouldn’t be allowed to touch such an important task — Huang Wei had zero faith in the villagers’ culinary abilities.

She dawdled at the very back, racking her brain for a way to skip this meal. Before she could figure it out, the sky went dark. She assumed the instance was about to reset — maybe Cheng Luyun had stayed in the village and wiped out all the players.

But when she awoke, the first thing she saw was Wang Ling.

She started to speak, but the moment she tried to move, she realized her hands and feet were bound.

Well — the feast was definitely skipped.