An hour later, Uncle Nine finished preparing the ink-marking line and instructed Wencai and Qiusheng to snap it around the coffin. Then he left the mourning hall and returned to the front courtyard.
What kind of people were Wencai and Qiusheng? Mischievous troublemakers. Before they had even finished snapping the lines, they started fooling around and eventually drew Uncle Nine over. Qiusheng swung a broom into Uncle Nine's head with such force that the broom snapped in two.
"We're in trouble!"
Qiusheng yelped and hurriedly ran to the front courtyard with Wencai. He took out a bundle of incense and ran to the gates of Yi Zhuang, with Wencai quickly following after him. What was Qiusheng planning to do?
Qiusheng lit the bundle of incense with a tinderbox. From the look of it, he was planning to make a run for it.
Seeing this, Wencai hurriedly said, "Hey, you're just going to leave me behind?"
"You caused this mess. Who told you to use the ink line on me?" Qiusheng accused Wencai.
Wencai looked embarrassed. "Don't go. It's late, and we might run into ghosts."
Qiusheng turned back and guiltily glanced toward the rear courtyard of Yi Zhuang. "At a time like this, I'd rather see ghosts than see Master."
With that, he stuck the bundle of incense into the handlebars of his bicycle, swung himself onto it, and rode away.
Wencai dejectedly headed back. When he reached the front courtyard, he saw Uncle Nine standing in the middle of it, staring coldly at him. Wencai fearfully shrank his neck. There was no escaping this time.
Whether he stretched out his neck or pulled it in, the blade would fall all the same. He might as well go for it.
Wencai said timidly, "Master, I was wrong. I shouldn't have