The Beggar’s Staff of Lao Ba Chapter 17.1

Chapter Seventeen

Part 1

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By the time he returned to the dilapidated temple, dusk had fallen. Today, the place felt utterly lifeless. Though lamps seldom lit the interior at night, the presence of three beggars usually brought faint murmurs of conversation. Their mere existence had breathed some vitality into the ruins.

 

Now that Old Wen was gone, it felt as if all vitality had been sucked out. Wen Heng carried the coffin to the temple entrance and set it down outside.

 

Inside, the pheasant by the door remained plucked and half-processed. Gouzi had stopped midway, leaving the bird soaking in water, its eyes half-open, giving it a look of death with eyes wide open.

 

Doggie, exhausted from crying, clung to Old Wen’s body and fell into a deep sleep, his eyes swollen and red. After half a day gone, Doggie looked much more haggard. His identity token lay discarded on the ground. Wen Heng carefully picked up the jade pendant, wrapped it in the red bellyband once more, and placed it inside the dusty sack.

 

As darkness fell completely, Wen Heng retrieved a half-burnt candle from beneath the statue’s pedestal. He fumbled for the fire starter and lit the candle. Its flickering, yellow light swayed as he secured it to the statue.

 

“Doggie, wake up.” Wen Heng patted Er Gou’s face. Er Gou sat up groggily: “Ah… Ah Heng, you’re back?”

 

 

 

 

 

Suddenly, Er Gou remembered Old Wen’s death. His mouth opened, and he began to wail again. His voice was hoarse, tears carving two furrows down his face.

 

“Stop crying. You’re making it hard for Old Wen to rest in peace.” Wen Heng handed him a damp cloth. Er Gou took it and roughly wiped his face. His voice raspy, he said, “Ah Heng, my heart aches so much.”

 

Wen Heng said nothing. He looked at Old Wen’s face, which no longer resembled the man he had been in life. He moved to lift Old Wen’s body, but Doggie instinctively blocked his path. “Ah Heng, what are you doing?!”

 

Wen Heng replied calmly, “I bought a simple coffin for Old Wen. Let’s give him a proper burial.”

 

Gouzi instantly snarled like a dog whose tail had been stepped on: “I won’t let you!! Who gave you permission to touch Old Wen? Who gave you permission?!” Gouzi’s voice cracked, unable to roar any louder.

 

Wen Heng stared intently at Er Gou: “Gouzi, Old Wen is gone. We still have to live on. Do you want Old Wen to not even rest in peace?”

 

Gouzi slammed the damp cloth to the ground. His eyes, red and brimming with tears, cried out, “Once he’s buried, I’ll never see Old Wen again!” His wail sounded like a cuckoo’s blood-curdling cry, and tears streamed down his face once more.

 

 

My grandfather died young, so I grew up begging with Old Wen. Heng, tell me, what am I supposed to do? Without Old Wen, how will I ever manage?

 

“You still have me.” Wen Heng walked over and pulled Gouzi into his embrace. “As long as I have a bite to eat, you’ll have a bite too. If you’re like this, Old Wen won’t rest in peace.”

 

Gouzi’s hoarse sobs filled Wen Heng’s heart with bitterness. He had never felt so keenly how the loss of a life could cause such profound pain in those left behind.

 

Gouzi sniffled and sobbed until he finally cried himself to sleep. When Wen Heng carried Old Wen into the coffin, he was in a deep sleep.

 

The coffin lid was placed over him and nailed shut. Ah Heng stroked the wooden surface, then sat leaning against the coffin. The autumn night air carried a chill. Gazing at the stars above, he felt lost. Old Wen was gone, and he didn’t know where his own path led.

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