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Fang Dihua was lost in a world of illusions, feeling a mix of sadness and boundless hope.
When Lin Shu interrupted her, she was stunned.
How should she explain to her daughter-in-law why she was burning paper at the bedside?
Lin Shu patted the children, Panpan and Tiantian, comforting them to go back to sleep.
She fumbled for matches and lit the small oil lamp.
The light revealed Fang Dihua’s tall, silent figure on the wall and illuminated her swollen eyes.
Lin Shu immediately understood; she must be grieving for Lu Shaotang.
Oh, this strong woman, busy working in the fields during the day, looked more serious and silent than usual.
But at night, she was overtaken by grief, transforming from a tough woman into a tender mother.
Lin Shu’s heart softened.
She could understand Fang Dihua’s feelings.
But shouldn’t they be setting up a proper memorial for Lu Shaotang instead of burning paper at the bedside?
What kind of custom is this?
Fang Dihua didn’t know how to explain.
This situation went back two days.
With their son’s life uncertain, the old couple was heartbroken.
Seeing their daughter-in-law’s mental state deteriorating was like adding insult to injury.
They cried together to release their sadness and then discussed what to do.
Should they secretly consult a fortune-teller or seek blessings from their ancestors?
In the end, they decided against consulting a fortune-teller.
If they showed it to Lin Shu, it could attract unwanted attention and trouble.
Consulting about their son would be distressing no matter the outcome.
If the prediction was that he would return, they would hope he would; if not, they would be disappointed and resentful.
It would be better not to consult at all and keep hope alive.
So, they decided to burn paper and make offerings to their ancestors, seeking their protection.
After the “Four Olds” campaign, it was generally prohibited to worship ancestors, but country people, not fully understanding the campaigns, continued their practices.
Even the village leaders had to worship their ancestors to avoid ancestral curses in dreams.
Thus, ancestral worship continued in rural areas, though it had to be done discreetly during traditional festivals like Qingming, Dragon Boat Festival, July 15th, Winter Clothes Festival, Winter Solstice, and New Year’s Eve, rather than individually.
The yellow paper was secretly bought with help from the old acquaintance, Xu Lao Nian, who had fled and had no parents.
He was older than Old Lu.
When he was still a teenager, Old Lu took him in.
After the liberation, Old Nian married a beautiful young wife from a big landlord family allocated by the organization, and now he has a house full of children and grandchildren.
Old Nian was different from other old friends; he was deeply loyal to Old Lu.
When they were making steel in the earthen kiln back then, he worried that Old Lu wouldn’t be able to handle such rough work, so he insisted that Old Lu work in the same kiln.
Although Old Lu refused, Old Nian still helped him.
Given their special relationship and Old Nian’s honesty, it was no problem for him to help buy yellow paper for talismans.
A few days ago, Fang Dihua had brought back a bulging sack of yellow paper in a large basket, which she had hidden in the house.
Tonight, seeing that Lin Shu still didn’t seem right, Fang Dihua planned to discuss with Old Lu how to perform the ritual and what spells to use once everyone was asleep.
Old Lu had read books since he was young and had encountered many people from various walks of life while running his big store.
He understood more about rituals and spells than anyone in the village who practiced divination and consulted spirits.
However, he felt that people should rely on hard work to make a living rather than relying on such things, so he only learned these things out of interest.
At this moment, he was digging through his knowledge, writing down what he knew, and rummaging through old almanacs and books to find the necessary symbols and spells.
He was really cramming, learning and using it on the spot.
Tonight, there were three main tasks.
Looking into Lin Shu’s unusually calm eyes, which were not as timid as before, Fang Dihua had a sudden inspiration and fabricated a story: “Your grandparents appeared in my dream and said that after the Dragon Boat Festival, the earth’s energy would be unstable and prone to troublemakers. They told me to burn paper for the kitchen god and the stove god to protect you, so you don’t need to worry.”
She would burn the paper in one room, Old Lu in another, and later, they would both go to the ancestral grave to burn paper for Old Lu’s parents.
Lin Shu: “…”
Honestly, you two are really bold, going to the graveyard in the middle of the night.
The Lu family graveyard has dozens, if not hundreds, of tombs.
Aren’t you afraid to go there at night?
Even if you have the old couple to protect you, aren’t you scared that people outside will see the flickering flames and end up scared out of their wits?
I bet the whole village will think it’s haunted by tomorrow.
Lin Shu: “Mother…”
“Why don’t we burn some paper for the door gods as well? They’re warriors; they’ll keep the bad stuff out.”
Fang Dihua replied, “Yes, we should burn it!”
Lin Shu added, “Mother, we should also burn paper for the night wanderers and daytime wanderers in the street.”
Fang Dihua was surprised, “Wow, you know a lot!”
Lin Shu noticed that Fang Dihua seemed to be in a state of temporary confusion, as if she had been brainwashed.
In reality, whether it’s superstition or falling for scams, it doesn’t depend on one’s education or cultural level.
Many university professors in modern times have been deceived or lured into pyramid schemes, and the widespread practice of such beliefs in the 1990s proves that people are irrational and easily influenced.
Scams prey on people’s needs.
The more urgent and desperate your need, the easier you are to deceive.
This is why many scams involve creating a closed-loop of manipulation.
The elderly couple didn’t need to be brainwashed; with their son missing, they turned to spirits for psychological comfort.
You can’t just dismiss their beliefs.
You have to go along with them, or they’ll feel misunderstood.
Lin Shu said, “Mother, these things won’t help. You should seek blessings from Marx; that’s what his father believed in.”
Fang Dihua lost all her strong demeanor and anxiously asked, “Who is that? What does he do?”
Seeing her this way, Lin Shu felt a mix of sadness and compassion.
The usually strong and fierce Fang Dihua, who shielded her family like a protective mountain, now spoke with a nasal, hoarse voice, sounding soft and cautious as she earnestly sought guidance from spirits.
She had transformed from a tough, protective mother-in-law into a tender, fragile mother.
It was the heartfelt plea of a mother desperate for her son’s survival.
Lin Shu, who previously had no real feelings for Lu Shaotang and only saw him as a background character in a book, now felt a tangible understanding of his sacrifice.
This understanding came from Fang Dihua’s imposing yet vague figure, and her soft, hoarse voice.
Lin Shu suddenly felt the depth of her maternal love, which, despite being overwhelmed by pain and despair, still clung stubbornly to a glimmer of hope.
Lin Shu trembled with admiration for such humble and intense maternal love, something she had never experienced in her past life—so fiery and genuine.
She gently said, “Mother, nowadays there are still many bad people hidden over there. Even if the person was executing a secret mission; it must be completed. If it’s not finished, the secret won’t be revealed.
The family must not know. If the superiors have declared him dead, it’s actually to mislead the enemy and give the person more chances to survive. You can pray to Marx for blessings, so the mission goes smoothly.”
What she said had some basis.
She had read about declassified files and watched documentaries where scientists and soldiers on secret missions, or even spies who went undercover, could never reveal their identities.
Their families believed they were dead.
This is just a comforting excuse, not the truth.
In this story, Lu Shaotang’s fate was predetermined by the author.
He was dead by the start of the story; if he were alive, why would he not appear throughout the book?
She just wanted to give the old couple some hope—that their son was still alive but couldn’t return due to some reason, like those taken to a foreign country.
She hoped to pull Fang Dihua and Old Lu out of their deep sorrow, to make them believe that their son was still alive and on a secret mission somewhere.
Exposure would be dangerous.
She wanted to give them a positive and hopeful belief to counteract the deep, silent pain gnawing at their spirit and health, which might lead to sudden death someday.
Fang Dihua was skeptical.
The oil lamp was too dim, and Lin Shu, sitting with her back to the light, seemed to be bathed in a golden glow, but her face remained hidden in shadow, giving her an air of mystery.
This reminded her of the shamans she had seen before.
At this moment, Lin Shu had that kind of mysterious aura.
Otherwise, how could such an uneducated young woman, who was timid and afraid, come up with such peculiar and elaborate phrases?
Even Old Lu wouldn’t say such things; only a commune cadre could, right?
Lin Shu’s next words made her even more astonished.
Lin Shu: “Mother, don’t be afraid. I haven’t encountered anything supernatural. I just keep dreaming that the deity your son believed in is giving me and a large group of people a lecture.”
It didn’t matter much; in her previous life, she had studied Marxism, Mao Zedong Thought, and Deng Xiaoping Theory extensively!
Besides, if her mother-in-law could fabricate a story about spirits sending dreams, why couldn’t she say Marx had given her a lecture?
She could even make up a story about Lu Shaotang sending her a dream.
Fang Dihua believed it!
Such words were not something an ordinary daughter-in-law could come up with!
She quickly extinguished the paper ashes in front of the kang (heated brick bed) by pouring water on them to prevent a fire and then quietly asked Lin Shu, “That Master Marx…”
Lin Shu: “Mother, it’s Marx.”
Fang Dihua asked, “Oh, yes, yes, yes, Marx. How should we worship him? What should we offer?”
She wanted to secretly pay respects with her husband.
Currently, it’s not allowed to worship gods, so they had to be careful not to get caught.
Lin Shu said, “Mother, just find a copy of Das Kapital and The Communist Manifesto and keep them at home. If possible, get a few copies of Selected Works of Mao Zedong. Believing in Marx doesn’t require burning paper or incense; just keep the books and read them daily with sincere devotion.”
It was impressive how Lin Shu, the third daughter-in-law, seemed so knowledgeable about these matters.
Although Fang Dihua had joined the Women’s Relief Association and the militia when she was younger, she was illiterate at the time and only worked physically, without any cultural or educational duties. No one forced her to learn.
Later, she learned to read from Old Lu’s, focusing on traditional culture and everyday vocabulary.
A few years ago, during the political movements, she had learned some quotes.
She wasn’t easily deceived, but she was constrained by the era.
People believed in spirits, especially when her son’s accident threw her into confusion.
She felt lost and desperate, seeking help from any source: deceased parents-in-law, ancestors, gods, or even Marx—what harm could it do?
She believed!
She made offerings!
Fang Dihua believed in it!
Although she couldn’t clearly see Lin Shu, she felt as if Lin Shu was glowing with light!
Outside, the old man signaled urgently with a sound.