As Jiang Ning was preparing to go up the mountain, Liu Ming'an encountered He Wu on his way to fetch water.
"Brother Ming'an, are you going to fetch water?" He Wu asked.
Liu Ming'an looked at He Wu, who seemed a bit awkward as he greeted him, and smiled, replying, "We're out of water at home. Brother Wu, is there something you need?"
He Wu and his brother He Wen were complete opposites. While He Wen indulged in drinking, gambling, and all manner of vices, He Wu was honest, kind-hearted, and good-natured. When Liu Ming'an's mother was bedridden, He Wu took pity on the mother and son, bringing them vegetables, helping to fetch water, and chopping firewood. Even after Liu Ming'an's mother passed away, He Wu voluntarily came to help with the funeral arrangements. Because of this, Liu Ming'an always held a brotherly respect for He Wu.
Liu Ming'an understood He Wu's nature. He wasn't good with words, or perhaps it could be said he was naturally a bit slow, and felt uncomfortable making small talk face-to-face. Now that he had come specifically to greet him, he must have something to ask.
He Wu was a rough man with thin skin, and with Liu Ming'an asking him so directly what he needed, he found it hard to open his mouth and ask for help.
Liu Ming'an waited patiently, a smile constantly on his face, giving off a sense of approachability.
He Wu seemed to be thinking about something, then suddenly reached out and grabbed the carrying pole with the empty buckets from Liu Ming'an's shoulder, placing it on his own. He then strode off towards the well.
Liu Ming'an was stunned and didn't react immediately. He only heard He Wu say, "I'll fetch the water for you first, then we'll talk."
"Brother Wu, I can do it myself. Just tell me what you want me to do, I'll definitely try my best to help you," Liu Ming'an said as he caught up with He Wu, trying to take back his things.
He Wu blocked Liu Ming'an with his hand and strode forward stubbornly. "You're a scholar, you don't have much strength. Let me fetch the water for you."
Liu Ming'an knew how stubborn He Wu could be and couldn't persuade him otherwise. He could only smile helplessly and follow along, watching as He Wu filled two buckets of water, then carried them back to his courtyard and poured them into the vat. He Wu made three trips in total, filling the large vat to the brim.
During this time, Liu Ming'an glanced into the house, thinking Jiang Ning might be hiding inside again, but didn't think much of it.
After finishing with the water, He Wu stood by the vat to catch his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. Only then did he gather the courage to speak. "Brother Ming'an, I want to ask you for a favor."
In the past, Liu Ming'an would have invited him inside to sit and talk, but now, out of consideration for Jiang Ning, the two could only stand in the courtyard.
Seeing that He Wu had finally broached the subject, Liu Ming'an quickly responded, "Brother Wu, you said we're brothers. If you need help with something, just say the word. There's no need to ask for favors."
He Wu's expression seemed very conflicted. He wrung his hands tightly together, and after a while, he pulled out a roll of pale paper from his bosom and said, "I want you to help me write... a funeral couplet."
The last two words seemed to be squeezed out of his throat, his voice as low as it could be. After speaking, He Wu didn't dare look at Liu Ming'an's expression.
Liu Ming'an had heard clearly, but didn't speak for a moment. This request was unexpected.
In the customs of Great Liang, when someone died, people would ask someone to write a funeral couplet to be pasted on the family's door for forty-nine days, seven sets of seven. Then it would be burned at the grave, so that the deceased's soul could find its way home during the first seven days, and then successfully reincarnate.
Generally, families who could afford it would invite a respected person to write the couplet. For instance, people from Lotus Flower Village would usually go to town to ask the elderly teacher Chen to write it, bringing good wine and meat, along with a red envelope, and respectfully make the request.
However, there were also sayings about writing funeral couplets. Writing for someone who was both virtuous and talented was considered a great merit, and people were eager to do it even without payment. Writing for ordinary people would accumulate hidden virtue for oneself. But if the deceased had been problematic in life, a thief or thoroughly evil, writing a couplet for such a person would only invite bad luck.
This was also why Liu Ming'an was surprised. He really hadn't expected He Wu to come ask him to write a funeral couplet for He Wen.
But thinking about it, asking him to write it seemed like the best choice.
He Wu knew his request was difficult, and seeing Liu Ming'an not speaking, he continued, "Brother Ming'an, if you really don't want to, forget about it. I know you want to take the imperial examinations in the future, and being tainted with this kind of bad luck might affect your prospects. Let's just pretend I never came today..."
As he spoke, He Wu was about to put the white paper back in his bosom.
At this moment, Liu Ming'an reached out and took it, smiling gently at him and saying, "How can you say that, Brother Wu? It's just a few words after all. Why don't you wait in the courtyard for a moment, and I'll write it right away and bring it out to you."
He Wu hadn't expected Liu Ming'an to agree so easily, accepting so lightly. He stood there awkwardly, only able to nod repeatedly and say, "Ah, good, good. I'll wait for you. I'll wait right here. Take your time writing, there's no rush, take your time..."
Liu Ming'an took the white paper and walked into the house, but didn't see the person who should have been there. He instantly panicked. When he saw the note Jiang Ning had left on the table, Liu Ming'an felt as if his heart had been violently wrenched, and he could barely breathe.
Jiang Ning had gone to the mountain.
She had gone to that mountain alone.
"Mother, why hasn't father come back yet?"
"Be good, Ming'an. Your father went to the mountain to find something delicious for you. When he comes back, you'll have meat to eat."
"They all died... not one of them survived... We couldn't even find the bodies..."
"Mother, I want father. I don't want to eat meat anymore, I want father! Waa..."
Memories from deep in his mind surged forth like a tide. Liu Ming'an's face turned pale, and he clutched Jiang Ning's note tightly, almost unable to stand.
"Jiang Ning, don't go!" Liu Ming'an mouthed silently.
Liu Ming'an supported himself on the table and slowly sat down. His mind was in chaos, with past memories and present reality intertwining, leaving him unsure of what to do.
After sitting dazed for quite a while, Liu Ming'an finally felt his mind clear a bit. At this point, there was nothing else he could do but trust that Jiang Ning was no ordinary person, and that she would surely return safely.
Liu Ming'an rubbed his temples hard, then caught sight of the white paper on the table out of the corner of his eye. Only then did he remember that He Wu was still waiting outside for him to write the funeral couplet.
Spreading the paper for the funeral couplet on the table, Liu Ming'an switched to a thicker brush. After dipping it in ink, he hesitated to put brush to paper.
Liu Ming'an had never written a funeral couplet before, but he knew that it was meant to mourn the dead and comfort the living, mainly to commemorate the deceased and express respect and remembrance for them.
In Liu Ming'an's memory, common funeral couplets were usually along these lines: "Voice and image have faded, but virtue and benevolence remain," or "Leaving a legacy for a hundred generations, bestowing love for a thousand autumns; Voice and image linger, lofty spirit endures," or "High morals spread through the village, shining integrity illuminates posterity."
But were these praises of virtue really suitable for someone like He Wen?
Liu Ming'an recalled He Wen's behavior in life, and found it difficult to write such insincere words.
After much consideration, Liu Ming'an picked up his brush and wrote on the white paper what he considered to be a more appropriate funeral couplet:
"This body turns to dust and mud, possessing nothing,
In the next life, cultivate oneself and virtue to become a good person."
The horizontal scroll read: "With death, sins are absolved."