A Gathering of Heroes series: Anhu

Chapter 2 (Zhang)

It was the crack of dawn when the funeral procession, like a parade of ghosts, made its stately way from our household to the main street. With eyes red and lined with dark circles, I wearily followed my parents, with the rest of the household trailing behind. My mind was in turmoil, replaying the events that occurred. It took Wei's steady grasp on my elbow to prevent me from tripping over my robes as we navigated the narrow streets. As we passed, some onlookers peered out from their doorways and windows to watch. I could feel their hawkish stares, assessing us. I was sure that later, they would whisper and spread farfetched rumors of my sister's passing- something ridiculous like a lover's suicide. I clenched the sleeve of my robe at those thoughts.

At long last, we reached the funeral parlor. The mourners, mainly those of our immediate family and closest extended family, were waiting at the entrance. Respectfully, they bowed their heads at the sight of the three-ringed coffin. A member of the group detached from the crowd and stepped up to us.

Dressed in the monastic attire of orange robes and bearing prayer beads, the monk greeted us, bowing. "I am Yijian from the monastery on Eagle Peak. I will offer guidance to appease your daughter's spirit."

My father bowed respectfully. "We appreciate your guidance on these matters, Yijian-fashi."

The director of the funeral parlor directed the coffin bearers to the parlor, where the coffin was arranged with the bottom facing the altar and the doorway. When ready, we entered the parlor. We were gestured to kneel on the cushions before the altar. The others filed in behind us. Silence fell around us like a shroud. Yijian-fashi lit the incense burners and then, holding the prayer beads in his hands, he began reciting the sutras. As custom dictated, older people cannot offer prayers to the younger. My parents and I along with the older members of the group sat in silence.

The funerary assistants were walking down the aisles offering incense sticks to the younger members of the congregation. I watched solemnly as the younger members lit their incense sticks and offered their respects as they approached the altar.

There atop of the altar she lay dressed in white robes, peaceful as if resting atop a bed of snow. The mark of violence on her neck was hidden under elaborate makeup. Her expression placid, unlike the torment she experienced. Closing my eyes, I remembered all the joys that I had shared with Huiliang from trying to catch butterflies in our garden to going to our first party together. I remembered how she always smiled and found joy in small things. Then the horrifying scene flashed in my mind once more. The blood. The sinister smile of the dark shadow over my sister's body and then... the owl mask hovering before me. Angry tears threatened to roll down my cheeks.

Slowly, I steadied my breathing following the exercises my shifu had taught me. I silently vowed to bring peace to her spirit.

Four days later my sister was buried at the main cemetery on the west side of Han Lake. To all those present, we offered red packets with money and sweet candy to take away the bitterness of loss. It was tiring; my legs were numb as I stood next to my parents, bowing and thanking each guest. He-- Shen Mingzhi-- was there too. He came with his family to pay respects. With practiced motion, I handed him the packet. For a brief moment, our hands brushed, and my head shot up involuntarily at the foreign sensation. Our eyes met for a moment; there was something different in his eyes, but I could not make out what he was thinking. I hastily bowed and released the packet from my hands. When I looked up again, he had already turned to leave. For the rest of the day, I felt strange.

***

Our household showed signs of mourning-- everywhere I turned, white sheets covered mirrors and deity statues. A gong was placed on the right side of our doorway, symbolizing the death of a female relative. The maids scattered white powder outside the entrance of the room where we set up my sister's plaque, to ensure the return of her spirit. Notes of condolences were delivered to our home from several families. Meals were silent affairs; we only spoke when necessary. When my father excused himself from the table, he often went into his study, asking us not to disturb him. He was allowed to postpone the duties of his new position until the mourning period was over. My mother continued managing the daily affairs in the household as if nothing had happened. She never betrayed her grief. She maintained the household accounts and ensured that our inventory was stocked. As for me, I felt restless. My mind constantly ran over details of Wei's account of that fateful night.