Daomu Biji extra 1 part8

When I think of Biao Gong's face at that time, I still don't know whether to laugh or cry. But it seemed to him that everything was perfectly normal: there was nothing wrong with his face and his expression was surprisingly serious. Without waiting for my father to respond, he got up and walked towards the coffin, while one of the two old men guarded the door and the other went to get the tools.

Dad and I gave each other a wry smile. Biao Gong beckoned us to help lift the nameless coffin under the lamp. When I lifted it up, I found it was extremely heavy and thought that if there was a dead person inside, it must be someone on Shaq's level. Dad and I couldn't lift it at all, and we wondered what the bodies of those who carried it back were made of. There was no way we could do it, but we also couldn't call the people outside to help. Biao Gong lit the brazier again, pressed the wood into it, and poured the paper money into the fire, making it flare up. Then he brought the bench over and put the brazier on it for lighting.

When I thought of opening the coffin, I was shocked, excited, and scared—there was no course like this at university. And this was an ancient coffin, at least over a hundred years old. Looking at it, I suddenly felt that the room was somewhat cold.

The village wasn't large, and soon three crowbars were brought over. If Uncle Three were here, there wouldn't be any problems, but my father and I couldn't do it at all. The crowbar was upside down. When I held it up, I was laughed at by Biao Gong who said, “What the hell are you doing, playing billiards?” In the end, the three old men couldn't wait any longer and did it themselves. After a few tries, the coffin nails were all pulled out. The three men then stepped aside, inserted three crowbars into the gap together, and gave it a hard lift.

The whole coffin made a series of “popping” sounds like wood bursting, and then the lid turned up and over. Suddenly, a strange smell of traditional Chinese medicine reached my nose.

Biao Gong drew the brazier closer for lighting, and we all leaned towards the coffin and saw black water inside that almost reached the mouth of the coffin.

I had never looked at a coffin so closely, and I didn't know if it was normal, but Biao Gong's expression also looked confused. He turned to my father and asked, “Was there any water in the grave?”

My father shook his head: “Wet is wet, there was no water.”

“Eh, that's strange. Where did the water in this coffin come from?” Biao Gong asked.

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Chapter end

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