I am not Ximen Qing.

The countryside provided a sense of security for the eldest and second sons-in-law, and the joy of their family reunion dinner during the Lunar New Year was a testament to their connection. For some reason, the two sons-in-law cherished this idyllic, Tao Yuanming-esque world, where the New Year evoked a festive atmosphere and strong family bonds. Most importantly, no matter how difficult the circumstances, they could always enjoy pork dumplings and a large pot of pollack soup—a gift from their great-uncle on the Yalu River. Now, they relied on the land for sustenance. Huang Yupei could make all sorts of pastries and sticky rice cakes (粘火勺), a tradition from Northeast China, though she didn't know about other regions. In the Changbai Mountain area, sticky rice cakes were a must-eat during the New Year; they came in two colors, yellow and white, filled with red bean paste. Hongmei and Honghua eagerly awaited the New Year to eat sticky rice cakes. Both daughters actively supported their husbands, as they were both exceptionally talented, and both shared the common characteristic of supporting their in-laws in dire financial straits. The second son-in-law's mother died early, and his father, a selfish old man, has now sent his second son to live with his elder brother before the eldest son has even settled down. The second daughter is in great pain. The second brother, Zhao Mengfan, is a complete simpleton when it comes to social interactions. He's like a mute, stubbornly refusing to utter a word. Huang Yupei complains to her sister Yuhuan that every time her two daughters and sons-in-law return, they're starving and malnourished, as if they've been abandoned. She feels she's wasted her time raising them; their father dotes on them like his own children, but they always side with the outsiders. It's all for nothing, isn't it? Zhao Mengji, in particular, loves to dream about the orchard behind the thatched cottage in the countryside. He loves plums more than anything, eating them until his cheeks are swollen. And the grapes are so delicious that Huang Yupei warns him that burying the dead under the plum trees is a long-standing tradition—they're delicious, but eating too many will harm your health. Zhao Mengji and Huang Yupei never treated each other like strangers. He even treated her like his own mother, seeking maternal love from her. His father in Jilin only asked Zhao Mengji for money, as he spent a lot of money in Jilin City.

Hongying was caught in the middle between Zhao Mengji's younger sister, brother, and father, which was quite difficult for her. Life was also tough; she had to support Zhao Mengji's father and sister, who lived far away in Jilin. However, this younger sister was very picky and looked down on her short and unattractive sister-in-law. Zhao Mengji had frequently used her father Zhang Sirui's connections to gain favor. The two sons-in-law each had their merits; the second son-in-law had a better temperament, while the eldest son-in-law was more arrogant. Huang Yupei preferred the eldest son-in-law because he wasn't hypocritical, and more importantly, her eldest daughter, Hongyu, was good at sweet-talking. Hongying, on the other hand, was more straightforward and didn't know how to use sweet talk with her mother.

The second son-in-law's career is progressing well; the party secretary and factory director are both very satisfied with his work. Despite her stubbornness towards her parents, Hongfu is extremely particular about etiquette when dealing with superiors. It's unclear where she learned this from, but she never misses a holiday, celebrating them with a strong sense of ritual, much like in "The Story of the Stone." These holidays aren't for her and Zhao Mengji, but for the leaders. She's frugal, spending all her money except for the meager allowance she gives to her stingy father-in-law in Jilin; the rest is used for gifts to smooth things over in her career. Her parents' rural life is now a supplementary source of income for the second daughter, Hongying, and Zhao Mengji. There's no other way; it's for Zhao Mengji's future, isn't it? He has to become a cadre and keep climbing the ranks.

The frugality and hard work finally paid off. Zhao Mengji was admitted to the Party School and became a key figure in the organization's development program. The leaders also appreciated this young man who had come from a big city to work in the forestry bureau, and he was now a dispatcher at the timber yard. This made Hongying overjoyed, but her mother seemed to be sarcastic, saying that her daughter never cared about the family, that the family was just the Zhao family's canteen. The second daughter objected, saying that everyone often brought their eldest brother-in-law to eat there, but her mother wouldn't bring it up. The eldest son-in-law, Li Jingshan, genuinely supported his younger brother's painting; he was a lover of talent, boasting that he was the Cao Cao of his time. Now that Cao Mengde had been exonerated, it's true that Cao Cao was a good emperor who loved talent above all else; otherwise, the Cao family would have been wiped out by the Sima family. Perhaps the second daughter and son-in-law, influenced by their father in Jilin, lacked care for their younger brother. The eldest brother-in-law had gotten him a lot of painting supplies—valuable items. Li Jingshan traveled all over the country, and wherever he went, he always thought about the things Honglin used for painting. This world is so strange; families with many children and grandchildren are often laughed at by their neighbors, and they can't even hold their heads high. His mother and two daughters were all pregnant at the same time—it was commonplace in this era; it was perfectly normal for parents, daughters, and sons to have children simultaneously. China's population was constantly growing; the tradition of the Chinese nation was to have children. With people, you had everything. Every large family would produce a savior, or someone whose success brought prosperity to the entire family. Having children was a way to change one's life. If everyone could give birth to someone like Zhu Yuanzhang (a legendary figure known for his sagacity), they would all be royalty. Giving birth was so simple, so effortless; women seemed to grow more vibrant with each child, adding so much magic to every family.

Honglin has recently been in a dreamlike state, or rather, a fantasy, a misperception of reality and illusion. This is a dreamscape where art sparks a passionate collision of illusion and imagination.

“This is my son. Let him become your apprentice. Son, a great painter from Shanghai, kneel down and become your apprentice.”

Hello, teacher.

"Yes, call me teacher."

"Dad, I've been studying with painters for years, Dad, say something! Dad, why aren't you saying anything?"

Men all share the fate of Hamlet and the Danish king—so unwilling, so reluctant to let go. This is a dream. Father is silent. Zhang Honglin is covered in sweat. If he knew the ghost, knew the ghost's manifestation, then the rooster in the house crowed, and the ghost disappeared. This is the magical manifestation of a man's unwillingness to accept his fate. It turns out Honglin's father is gone, in a manner similar to Hamlet's. Yuhuan curses Zhang Sirui as the most heartless man in the world, the most selfish and ruthless man, so heartless. They've weathered so many storms together. Yuhuan's brother-in-law, she hasn't even repaid him yet. What is this? What kind of situation is this? The eldest sister, Yupei, and the younger sister, Yuhuan, hug each other and weep bitterly.

Yu Huan complained that Zhang Sirui was a cowardly man, utterly irresponsible, and utterly lacking in heroic spirit. He was a coward, a coward, leaving his sister Yu Pei with a large family of crying infants. What kind of man was he? Even in his dying moments, he didn't spare his sister's body; the unborn child was fatherless. This turned into a public denunciation of her brother-in-law by Yu Huan. She also called Zhang Sirui a scoundrel, not even a hair on Huang Yumin's head. She said her brother was useless, but at least Huang Yumin didn't let women suffer. What kind of things had he done? This was anger at his lack of self-respect and sorrow for his misfortune! Her heart was burning with anger and bitterness. Honghua, Hongmei, Hongqi, and Hongli were too frightened to speak. Their third aunt cursed their father mercilessly. The siblings knew their third aunt was heartbroken for Huang Yu Pei and worried about the consequences of their children losing their father. The absence of a father is terrifying. Consider the fate of the crown prince and his son Liu Ju after the suicide of Emperor Wu of Han, and the fate of Liu Bingyi. Whether commoners or royalty, without a father's love and protection, the consequences are unimaginable. Wasn't Yu Huan's inner voice a hysterical cry and scream from the jade pendant? This man had almost stripped her of all freedom, turning her into a birthing machine, forcing her to give birth, even in the end, he wouldn't spare her womb. It's understandable that the younger sister would weep for her. Yet, Huang Yu Huan was also happy, because there was no sound of sorrowful weeping. Even her youngest daughter, Zhang Hongmei, was silent, numb. Death was a kind of grand celebration; life had been too oppressive, too painful. Death was a legitimate sacrifice to heaven and earth.

Death is nothing, just a walking corpse. It would be best if his soul were reincarnated into the womb of a mother and her two children. That would be true love, the most sincere love, the most benevolent cause and effect. Death is just a farce, like a New Year celebration in progress.

Huang Yuhuan hated her brother-in-law. She wanted to laugh; hadn't he just played a game with the two sisters? Like an enlightened monk sitting or lying in a Zen monastery, he quietly and peacefully passed away, becoming a Buddha, no longer needing the suffering of reincarnation, instantly arriving in the future world of Maitreya Buddha. Huang Yuhuan couldn't have imagined such a high realm. And what about Huang Yupei? In reality, she was nothing more than a tool for the instinctive lust of childbirth. The two sisters were the darlings of Golden Mountain. Think about it, from childhood, they were the apple of their father's eye, and their mother's little darlings. Why, in the hands of men, especially the older sister, became a baby-making machine? Men were so cruel; even in their dying moments, they left Yupei a child, fearing that Yupei would have another child with another man. Huang Yuhuan thought about it and felt that he was the most heartless man in the world. The two sisters hugged each other and cried, not for the dead, that was too worthless. Death is not suffering, passing away is not misfortune, but a joyful liberation from the world. This quiet, lying man was too selfish. He made the living suffer while he himself remained clean and pure, like the white snow on the vast earth, without a trace of attachment to the world. He was a stranger to us. Even in death, he had to choose the most opportune time, even death had to be complicated. After all, the earlier one dies, the more one can enjoy the traditional Confucian and Mencian filial piety. The rituals and rules of Confucianism and Mencius are the most complicated. The Chinese people are still a land of etiquette where the blood of Confucian and Mencian etiquette and filial piety remains in their bones.

Life's hardships must give way to the ritualistic significance of death; the living must dedicate themselves to the dead. What hasn't changed for thousands of years is the ritualistic nature of funerals, still imbued with a surreal quality. It's impossible to tell it's an ordinary person's funeral; the spectacle is like something out of a novel, grand and imposing. Fathers and children alike attend to join in the festivities, because they're usually too lonely and lack vitality. Conversely, this grand and dramatic ritual is like a re-enactment of magical realism.

A hundred-foot-long sash, white headbands fluttering in the wind, paper oxen, paper horses, paper figures, and various intricate straw art pieces—it was like a circus troupe. The grand procession made its entrance, four people carrying a cart pulled by oxen and horses, all made of paper and straw, showcasing the artisans' skill. Paper lanterns and various paper coins and treasures shimmered in the sunlight, a testament to the saying, "If you weren't rich in life, you'll be rich in the underworld." Death is glorious; the kilometer-long procession was all for show, not out of respect or love for the deceased, but simply out of boredom. Weddings are usually quiet, but death must be earth-shattering and awe-inspiring. The most impressive item was the coral-colored coffin, of exceptional quality, made from ten-meter-diameter red pine timber, painted a brilliant coral hue. Such a coffin is the dream of many elderly people. Their lifelong dream is to have a good coffin to bury their bodies after death. This is the reward that the second son-in-law gave to him for the good he had done for him during his lifetime.

The eldest son-in-law was heartless; his explanation was that he was away on a business trip, and he had nothing to say. No one criticized Li Jingshan; whether one person was there or not made no real difference. It was all just formalism, a grand spectacle for the entire forestry bureau. Starting from the picturesque thatched hut beneath the large platform, a mournful sonata played. The coffin was securely sealed with long nails. Red flags and bonuses vied for power with the eldest brother, and the two younger brothers were somewhat envious. The procession, carrying the enormous coffin, marched majestically towards the distant mountains, where the soul would live on forever in the coniferous forests.

The beauty of the distant mountains lies in the fact that, due to secondary logging, the coniferous forests there have only just grown to the size of a fist. Coniferous trees typically take hundreds of years to mature. Moreover, the mountains are steep and high-altitude, meaning those buried here are all sentient beings with foresight and clashing senses. They needn't worry about human civilization encroaching on land, nor about the living competing with the dead for space. These forests are undoubtedly teeming with countless souls. The ritualistic burning of paper money—paper oxen, paper horses, paper carts, gold and silver ingots, and ghost money—is complete, the thick smoke billowing into the sky, a tribute to the spirits of the dead for the underworld.

Back in the courtyard of the thatched cottage below the large platform, a joyful atmosphere prevailed. Nothing had happened yet; it was time for the living to frolic, to eat and drink. Even the yin-yang masters should enjoy the feast of human life, the tavern, and the mundane world.

At least in Yu Huan's view, this could be considered part of her sister's great love for her brother-in-law. In the courtyard, inside and outside the house, more than thirty tables were set up for a feast. The living must continue to struggle for survival, mustn't they? People will soon forget the spirits in the distant mountains.

Zhang Honglin remained in a daze for seven days and seven nights, unable to believe that his father was gone. He also couldn't understand his aunt's harsh words towards his father. His uncle, Huang Yumin, appeared before him and patted his forehead. "Honglin, don't be sad. It's fate. I wanted to die to forget the pain, but I couldn't. I'm just clinging to life. Honglin, you should be happy. Your brother-in-law is free. Why are women dissatisfied with your brother-in-law? It's all selfishness. Men have it too hard. You should be happy."