It all started with one person becoming a shaman, but the Stand user...

After that, the aunt who had come in earlier and Qinghe Miao helped Qing's mother up, one on each side.

The men who had been kneeling at the gate slowly stood up, led by one or two elders at the head.

But he remained silent, standing outside the door with his hands hanging down, neither coming in nor making a sound.

The older woman who entered the courtyard took Qing's mother's hand and told her:

“Little sister, that guy over at Xigou, your fourth great-uncle… passed away yesterday morning.”

Qingmu suddenly realized, but her thoughts were still relatively clear:

"How...how did you get there?"

"I can't explain it. Yesterday morning, his second aunt next door noticed that there was no smoke coming out of his chimney, so she went over and called out a couple of times. When no one answered, she went inside to check..."

The aunt sighed, a hint of regret in her voice:

"The person was lying in bed, as if asleep, very peaceful. The stove was cold, the coal was all burned out, but there was still firewood in the woodpile... I guess they left during the night, without disturbing anyone, and without suffering any hardship."

"It's alright, the old man is healthy and hasn't suffered any misfortune."

Qing's mother clicked her tongue and followed her aunt's words:

"They left peacefully and quietly, going to enjoy a life of leisure."

The older woman nodded in agreement, as if they were comforting each other.

"Yes, that makes sense."

The aunt nodded and pointed to the people with white cloths tied around their necks at the door:

“His son just rushed home today and is getting things ready. I still have to take them to the next house to deliver the message.”

"Okay, go ahead. The neighbors should have just finished breakfast and haven't gone to the fields yet; someone's home."

Qing's mother quickly said:

"I'll come over and help once I've tidied up here."

"Row."

The auntie responded, then glanced at Qing Hemiao beside her and gave him instructions.

"Oh, and don't forget to bring your partner along. He understands this; it's always better if he's there to oversee things."

"Okay, let him go in a bit."

Qing's mother readily agreed.

The aunt comforted Qing's mother a couple more times, then turned and led the men at the door to the next house.

Chapter 40 Prolonging life and longevity

People come and go in a hurry.

The courtyard fell silent, with only the faint sound of the cold wind rustling through the bare branches.

Qinghe Miao, who had listened to the whole story, stood there, feeling somewhat bewildered.

There's not much of a connection between us. These are relatives I've never even heard of before. I've probably only seen them eight or nine times in my entire life, if you count the last few days.

But I just feel like my head is foggy.

It wasn't until Qing's mother reminded her that she suddenly came to her senses.

Qinghe Miao wiped his face, let out a long sigh, and cheered himself up as he returned to the house.

Then, he changed into a dark coat, and with the King Wen Drum and King Wu Whip out in the open, he went out of the house.

Following the path I had just walked a few days ago, I arrived once again at that quiet little courtyard.

This time, however, there were many more people in the courtyard than last time; they were all neighbors and relatives from the same village.

The atmosphere was solemn, but there were not many loud cries. Most people were talking in hushed tones, helping with the arrangements, or standing silently.

When Qing Hemiao arrived, those who knew him greeted him briefly.

Qinghe Miao nodded slightly in return and, following the crowd's directions, walked straight to the side room opposite the main house.

Lifting the heavy cotton curtain, the room was even darker than the main room, with only a low-intensity incandescent bulb burning, casting a dim, yellowish light.

He spotted the old man he had spoken with not long ago at a glance.

He lay quietly on an old, unused kang (a heated brick bed), covered with a clean, plain white cloth, his face serene, as if he had simply fallen into a deep sleep.

His face was just a lifeless, ashen white.

After actually meeting the old man, Qing Hemiao calmed down.

First, face the elderly person, put your hands together, and bow slightly to show respect.

Then, he stepped forward, extended his right index and middle fingers, and gently placed them on the old man's wrist, which was exposed outside the thin blanket and was already cold and stiff.

At the same time, he quietly channeled the Qi within his body into his eyes, and the faint image of a kind old lady appeared behind him.

He observed carefully.

No abnormal signs were detected.

The vital energy within the old man's body has completely dissipated, leaving only the physical shell slowly decaying naturally.

Very clean, very thorough.

Now it's confirmed that the old man has truly passed away.

Qinghe Miao sighed again.

Without saying much, he turned around and sat down on an old wooden stool against the wall inside the house, placing the King Wen Drum and King Wu Whip he had brought on his lap.

With him sitting in the room, the atmosphere seemed to change completely.

The relatives, who were previously busy coming and going, seemed more settled, and their steps and movements became a little more relaxed.

The old man's son, the middle-aged man who had just appeared at his door, finally returned with several male relatives after finishing their business.

Upon learning of Qing Hemiao's arrival, the middle-aged man first entered the house and glanced at the old man with sorrow once more before finding Qing Hemiao sitting by the wall.

He walked over quickly and grabbed Qing Hemiao's hand. The hand was rough, cold, and trembling slightly.

"Xiao Miao."

His voice was hoarse and nasal, and he tried his best to maintain politeness and a final bit of composure:

"How is my dad? Is there anything we need to be careful about?"

Speaking of which, this middle-aged man is related to Qinghe Miao's family by seniority.

In reality, this is the main surname in the same village.

If you're willing to make connections, you can become related to most people in the village, whether close or distant.

"Uncle, please accept my condolences. I just checked on him carefully. He passed away peacefully, and there's nothing wrong with that."

Meeting the other's sorrowful gaze, Qing Hemiao mustered her strength and gave the answer everyone most wanted to hear:

"The rest is up to you. Try your best to make the funeral arrangements look good so that the old man can pass away in peace."

In fact, his lineage's methods do not allow one to see the cause of the old man's death or his condition before death.

Each profession has its own expertise; that's the skill of a forensic scientist.

Although the world of "Under One Person" contains extraordinary concepts such as "other people" and "feathering".

However, it does not have a "Heavenly Court and Underworld" that are in charge of reincarnation in the traditional sense.

After an ordinary person dies, their soul will mostly dissipate naturally, returning to the world without leaving a trace.

There is only a very small chance that it will become a spirit.

For example, there was that Henan opera teacher of his, who I don't know if he was tricked by some senior figure or if he was just lucky.

Besides, once you die, you are truly dead; your Qi transforms into a gentle breeze, and your flesh turns into mud.

Not a trace will be left.

The phrase "clean and free of resentment" from the perspective of supernatural beings refers more to the general phenomenon of not having formed a special spirit or left behind any obsessions.

But for ordinary people who are unaware of the inside story, this statement is a great comfort.

After listening, the old man's son pursed his lips and nodded repeatedly. With his free hand, he took out a gift wrapped in white paper, which he had prepared beforehand, as a token of gratitude to the "sir."

After placing it in Qing Hemiao's hand, her voice was choked and distorted:

"Thank you for your help. Please take good care of things from now on and make sure... you leave safely..."

As he spoke the last few words, he finally lost control, his face contorted in rage.

Tears welled up in the big man's eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He bent over and burst into loud sobs.

His crying seemed to be contagious, and soon other cries followed.

The cries of agony immediately merged into one.

It created the right atmosphere both inside and outside the house.

After quite some time, with the comfort and organization of several older, experienced relatives, the crying gradually stopped.

Everyone wiped away their tears and got busy with their assigned tasks.

They still have many specific and tedious things to do.

Qinghe Miao sent most of the relatives out of the side room, leaving only one or two of the deceased's relatives to help with the final arrangements for the elderly.

He then sat back down on the wooden stool, positioned diagonally to the side of the old man's head.

Without looking at the old man's face, he remained silent for a moment, as if talking to himself, or perhaps whispering to the deceased:

“Old man, last time I came, you seemed quite happy just chatting, so I didn’t get to show you any ‘talents’. This time, I’ll do one to cheer you up.”

As he spoke, he picked up the Wenwang Drum from his bosom, tapped it lightly twice to test the sound, and then, without clearing his throat, began to hum softly.

The music being sung was not a funeral dirge, nor Buddhist chants or Taoist scriptures, but rather an excerpt from the Yuzhou Bangzi opera "Da Luan Jia," like telling a story to an elderly person.

“There was a woman named Zhang Guiying who went to the capital to file a complaint… and her guarantor was Prime Minister Wang Yanling…”

His singing was clear and melodious, full of charm. When it rang out in this side room, it did not seem abrupt at all. On the contrary, it strangely dispelled some of the gloom and fear brought by death.

The relatives who stayed behind to help tidy up the body listened for a moment and a couple of minutes.

My emotions calmed down considerably, I was less scared, and my hand movements became much more steady.

Qinghe Miao felt that these supernatural professions of theirs, most of the time, were more about comforting the living than comforting the dead.

After all, no one knows better than these extraordinary people.

Death is the end.

After a person dies, they really have nothing left.

Chapter 41 Quick-Cooked Steamed Buns

The process then proceeded step by step in the established order.

To be fair, God has been quite kind to the elderly.

On that last day, although the sky was overcast and the cold wind was still biting, it didn't snow or cause any moths to fly.

This will allow relatives and friends to send the elderly off on their final journey relatively smoothly and to give them a proper burial.

It wasn't until several days after all the funeral arrangements were completed that a light snow began to fall.

The pure white snowflakes fell silently, moistening the dry, hard earth without a sound, and quickly covered up the sudden turmoil.

Life engulfs everyone's energy, surging towards seemingly endless worries and trivialities.

Life must go on.