Kill the beasts in the courtyard, I fled to Hong Kong, surrounded by beauties on both sides.

As dawn broke, the white banners fluttered in the morning breeze.

A makeshift mourning shed was erected in front of the Jia family's house—a few bamboo poles supported a white cloth, beneath which lay a door panel, on which Banggang's small body lay, covered by a white cloth. His face was covered by the white cloth, with only a bit of his bluish-purple chin showing.

Several rough porcelain bowls were placed before the altar, containing offerings: two cornbread buns, a bowl of cabbage, and a small dish of pickled vegetables. Three incense sticks were stuck in the incense burner, their smoke rising in wisps, appearing particularly desolate in the morning light.

Madam Jia Zhang knelt before the coffin, unable to cry out anymore, mechanically tossing paper money into the brazier. With each piece, she murmured, "Bang Geng... receive the money... don't suffer over there..."

His voice was so hoarse, like a broken bellows, that it sent chills down one's spine.

Qin Huairu stood to the side, her eyes swollen shut, her face as pale as paper. She had changed into a plain white outfit—actually, it was just an old dress with a white cloth jacket over it, the original blue patches still showing on the cuffs.

People from the courtyard arrived one after another, each leaving a small gift before the coffin: a few eggs, a handful of noodles, a dime or two in monetary donation... In this era of scarcity, this was the greatest token of affection that neighbors could offer each other.

Yi Zhonghai, as the person in charge, stood by the mourning tent, keeping accounts with a blank expression. Yan Bugui helped collect the items, noting each item in a small notebook with practiced ease.

Chen Fei also came. He placed a dollar in front of the coffin—the last money he had. He lowered his head as he placed the money, so his expression was not visible.

"Xiao Chen..." Qin Huairu saw him, her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she said nothing.

Chen Fei raised his head, his eyes red and swollen, his voice hoarse: "Sister Qin, please accept my condolences."

Qin Huairu nodded, and tears welled up in her eyes again.

Chen Fei turned to leave, but Yi Zhonghai called out to him, "Little Chen, wait a minute."

"Sir, is something the matter?"

"The funeral is this morning, and we need eight pallbearers," Yi Zhonghai said. "We don't have enough able-bodied men in the compound. Could you... lend a hand?"

Chen Fei was stunned for a moment. Carry a coffin? Carry a coffin for Bang Geng?

He felt a wave of nausea, but he nodded anyway: "Yes."

"Okay, then let's meet here at ten o'clock." After saying that, Yi Zhonghai went to attend to other things.

Chen Fei returned to his room, closed the door, and leaned against it.

Carrying a coffin for a Korean hamster...how ironic.

But this is also an opportunity. He can observe the Jia family's reactions up close and continue to play the role of a "grieving neighbor."

He walked to the water vat, scooped up some water, and washed his face. The cool water made him feel a little more awake.

Today will be busy. The funeral is in the morning, and in the afternoon I might have to deal with the police questioning me again—the police station said yesterday that they might come again today to find out more.

He needs to be prepared.

Morning: Undercurrents on the Funeral Procession

At ten o'clock, the eight coffin bearers gathered.

Besides Chen Fei, there were also Sha Zhu, Xu Damao, Liu Haizhong's son Liu Guangtian, Yan Bugui's son Yan Jiecheng, and three other strong laborers in the courtyard.

The coffin was thin, a relief coffin provided by the neighborhood committee, made of pine wood, painted with a layer of black lacquer that was already peeling. Eight men lifted the coffin, feeling it was incredibly light—Bang Geng was only twelve years old, already small and thin, and even lighter after death.

"Rise—" Yi Zhonghai shouted.

The coffin was off the ground.

Madam Jia let out a heart-wrenching cry: "Bang Geng—slow down—Grandma will see you off—"

She lunged forward to grab the coffin, but was held back by several women.

Qin Huairu followed behind the coffin, holding Banggeng's portrait in her hands—a black and white photo taken at school last year, in which Banggeng was laughing carefree.

The funeral procession left the courtyard house and entered the street.

In this era, simple burials are encouraged. There are no musicians, no paper figures or horses, only a group of silent people carrying a thin coffin, slowly moving forward in the morning light.

Pedestrians on the roadside turned their heads to look, some with sympathy, some with curiosity, and some with indifference.

Chen Fei carried the coffin, feeling the weight of the wooden bar on his shoulders, but his heart remained unmoved.

Bang Geng deserved to die. Now that he's dead, Chen Fei feels only relief—relief for his sister Xiao Yu.

He looked up at Sha Zhu, who was walking ahead. Sha Zhu was unusually silent today, not saying a word since the gathering. Chen Fei noticed that Sha Zhu glanced at Yi Zhonghai several times, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

It seems that the note from last night worked.

Yi Zhonghai walked at the front of the procession, holding a stack of paper money in his hand and scattering it as he went. His expression was also solemn, but not with grief; rather, it was a kind of suppressed restlessness.

Chen Fei knew what was bothering him. Liu Haizhong's matter, Sha Zhu's matter, and Bang Geng's death... a whole bunch of troubles.

When the group reached the entrance of the alley, they encountered a man in a police uniform—the same policeman from yesterday.

"Comrade, is this a funeral procession?" the police officer asked.

Yi Zhonghai stopped in his tracks: "Yes, to see the child off on his final journey."

The police officer glanced at the coffin and sighed, "Please accept my condolences. By the way, is Comrade Chen Fei here?"

Chen Fei's heart tightened, and he put down the coffin handle: "I'm here."

The police officer approached and lowered his voice: "Comrade Chen Fei, there are a few details about yesterday's events that I'd like to verify with you. Is that a convenient time?"

"Now?" Chen Fei glanced at the coffin. "We're having a funeral..."

"It's just a few words," the police officer said. "It won't take long."

The two walked to the roadside, and the police officer took out a small notebook: "Yesterday you said you were passing by Shichahai when you heard cries for help, right?"

"right."

"What time exactly?"

"Around 2:40 p.m.," Chen Fei said, "I had just walked to the lakeside then."

Do you often go to Shichahai?

"I don't go there often," Chen Fei shook his head. "Yesterday I was just passing by on my way to buy grain at the black market."

Where is the black market?

"Outside Deshengmen," Chen Fei said, "I came back from there and happened to pass by Shichahai."

The police officer made a few notes in his notebook and then asked, "When you were rescuing the person, did you notice anything unusual? For example, was the ice tampered with?"

Chen Fei's heart skipped a beat, but he feigned confusion: "You tampered with it? What do you mean?"

"Is it possible that the ice was deliberately thinned?" the police officer asked, staring at him.

Chen Fei shook his head: "I didn't notice. The situation was urgent, and I only wanted to save people."

The police officer looked at him for a moment, then nodded: "Okay, thank you for your cooperation. We may need to contact you again if necessary."

"Of course," Chen Fei said.

The police officers left. Chen Fei returned to the team and lifted the coffin beam again.

But his heart sank.

The police became suspicious.

Although it was just a routine inquiry, the fact that it went into such detail clearly indicated that there was some suspicion about the "accident".

He must be more careful.

Midday: The eeriness of the cemetery

Noon, at the cemetery.

In a deserted area on the outskirts of the city, a few graves were scattered about. Bang Geng's coffin was placed in a shallow pit, and several people began to fill it with soil.

Jia Zhangshi knelt by the pit, weeping uncontrollably. Qin Huairu also knelt, but could no longer cry out; she just stared blankly as shovelfuls of earth fell onto the coffin.

Chen Fei and the others filled the coffin with soil. The shovels scooped up the yellow soil and sprinkled it on the coffin, making a dull "plop plop" sound.

Soon, the coffin was completely buried, forming a small mound.

Yi Zhonghai erected a wooden plaque in front of the grave, which read "Tomb of Jia Geng" and listed his birth and death dates below.

"Bang Geng—go in peace—Grandma will come to see you often—" Jia Zhangshi lay on the grave, refusing to get up.

It took several women a lot of effort to pull her away.

On the way back to the city, the atmosphere became even more oppressive.

No one spoke, only footsteps and occasional sobs could be heard.

Chen Fei walked at the back of the group, observing everyone.