The fire had not gone out in Osmanthus Fragrance Studio. The smell of paste peculiar to a paper effigy shop mingled with the fresh scent of bamboo strips, making the place feel especially desolate that morning.
Lu Xingmin poured Qin Geng a bowl of tea. He did not drink any himself. Instead, he tapped his fingers lightly on the counter, his usually smiling eyes grave.
"Fifth Master, if we're going to do this, we have to give him a grand, dignified send-off. So listen carefully to the old customs of Tianjin Guard."
Lu Xingmin cleared his throat. At that moment, he was no longer the easygoing Paper Effigy Maker, but the man who understood the affairs of both the living and the dead and oversaw funerals—the chief funeral director.
"Here in Tianjin, at the tail end of nine rivers, people from every walk of life rub shoulders. But funeral customs are the one thing you can't muddle, not even a little. If you do, the dead won't rest easy, and the living will have fingers pointed at their backs."
"Master Xin passed away in his bed. That's what you call dying peacefully of old age."
"Next, we have to call in a coroner. Not to investigate a crime, but to strike his name from the household register. When a person dies, their lamp goes out. The authorities have to remove his registration and issue a Death Notice. Only then is the funeral proper. Otherwise, it's a private burial, and you could end up in court."
Lu Xingmin turned to Xiao Wei, who stood nearby with a brush ready to keep the accounts. "Brother Xiao Wei, you'll have to make this trip. Go to the county office and find the section that handles household registrations. Don't look for an official—find the