C1 (1/2)
In the middle of the night, the entire mountain village sank into a deathly silence. This was a desolate and barren land, and right now, it appeared even more desolate.
”Close the shop. There's not many people at this time of the night.”
”Got it …” I went out of the shop, picked up the two paper men by the door, and put them in the house. By the way, my name is Liu Guotian, and my little name is ”Coffin Man”.
I grew up an orphan, born in a coffin with my mother's last breath. When my master saw that I had pitifully adopted me, I didn't even know how to cry. No one knew who shouted, ”Coffin boy!” With a wail, I cried, and this nickname was born.
My master had the skills passed down from his ancestors, and was specialized in making coffins for the dead. Very few people know this skill anymore, and it used to be called a carpenter.
There were many things to be said about coffins, from colors to wood, and there were many taboos. But now, with the progress of society, cremation is carried out, and only in the traditional form of burial is it carried out in a remote village like my home.
”Gu Gu …” ”Gu Gu,” a gust of cold wind blew past, followed by a night owl cry that sounded like it was filled with grievances. I couldn't help but shiver and hurriedly ran into the shop to close the door.
”Now that you're so big and so timid, if I'm not here anymore, how are you going to manage this shop by yourself?” His Master chattered for a bit before turning around and entering the room. ”After you're done, go rest. There's still a lot of work to be done tomorrow.”
”If you die, I'll sell this shop and move to the city.” I muttered to myself, luckily this old man didn't hear, otherwise I would have been smacked on the head twice more.
I went back inside, yawning. As I lay down on the bed, I heard a dull knocking at the door. I got off the bed a little vexed. It's already so late, who would still come to buy stuff? ”Who is it? It's already so late, are you still letting me sleep?!”
”I need to order a coffin. I'll have to trouble little brother to help out.”
”It's already closed. Come back tomorrow!”
”Order a coffin so quickly …”
”Creak …” Just as the man finished speaking, the door opened by itself. I remember that I had locked the door from the inside. How did the door open?
A man in a black robe pushed open the door and walked in. He wore a black hat and sunglasses and a mask, covering his face tightly.
”Why are you like this? Didn't I say it's already closed!” I was a little angry and wanted to ask him out, but he just gave me a gentle push and pushed me into a chair.
The man looked around and asked in a hoarse voice, ”Is your shopkeeper here?”
”My shopkeeper has already rested. If you want to find him, then please come early tomorrow.”
”I want to order a coffin. The money is for making coffins.” The man took out a stack of bills from his pocket, placed it on the table, wrote down the required size, turned around and walked out of the shop. When I looked at the pile of bills, there were tens of thousands of dollars. Even a coffin wouldn't cost that much money.
I originally wanted to chase him and return the money to him, but then thought better of it. Who would give away money? The more money they had, the more they would put in their own pocket, treating it as a tip. I put the money in the drawer, went back to my room, and lay down on my bed and slept until dawn.
The next morning, just as the sun was rising, I got up and opened the shop. This shop is the old man's lifeblood, and we, master and disciple, depend on it for our livelihood.
”Is Old Man Liu home?” I returned to the front desk. Aunt Zhang, who was at the east end of the village, came in. ”Coffin Boy is home. Where's your old man?”
”The old man hasn't gotten up yet. If you need anything, just tell me. I'll get it for you.”
”Then bring me two bundles of burning paper …” I really didn't want to hear the name Coffin Man. Ever since I had this nickname, I was like a plague god. Even the kids in the village didn't dare to play with me. The thing that impressed me the most was that when I was seven years old, I was playing in the fields with a few kids from the same village. I didn't know why, but I happened to be in pursuit.
Fortunately, I was quick to grab a big rock, those few children are like a wet chicken. The parents of the children then went to the door. They all agreed that I was the one who pushed them into the river, that was called tacit understanding. It caused me to be viciously beaten by the old man and locked up, causing me to become friends from then on.
My childhood can be described as miserable to see four words, play with me only those things others can't see to touch.
I sat in the shop all morning and didn't sell a single deal. It's not easy to earn business these days, but think about which family will have so many dead people.