Funeral Rites

Qu Zan found a deserted spot at the foot of a hillside. After making sure no one was nearby, he lit juniper branches, rhododendron leaves, and pine branches.

A cloud of white smoke rose.

Qu Zan settled his body and mind, recalled the Sutra of the Excellent Lion's Roar, and chanted:

"Namo ri anazhaya, nama aliya awalojide..."

As he chanted, his spine bowed, then straightened. His entire bearing changed in an instant, body and mind becoming one.

Qu Zan walked upon the earth like a lion ruling its own domain, majestic and composed...

White smoke wreathed his body, forming the faint shape of a lion in the wind.

Roar!

At a stir of Qu Zan's intent, an invisible force erupted, surging straight ahead.

Boom!

The lion of white smoke roared, seeming to shake even the earth.

This intimidation was not physical, but spiritual.

"Whew!" Qu Zan extinguished the incense offering in his hand.

"At last, I have a means of doing something."

That single use of Lion's Roar had left his mind feeling drained. This was not physical exhaustion, but exhaustion of his consciousness.

Toward evening, Duimu returned.

Smelling the rich aroma of beef inside, Duimu thought she had entered the wrong house.

The sight of Qu Zan in red monastic robes astonished her even more.

She hurriedly knelt and paid her respects to the honored monk.

"Honored Lama!" Duimu invoked the Buddha's name, bowing with her palms together.

"Elder Sister, it's me," Qu Zan said with a quiet laugh.

Only then did Duimu recognize Qu Zan.

"You've become an honored monk," Duimu said in delighted surprise.

Qu Zan smiled and nodded.

"Let's eat!" Qu Zan said.

He lifted the lid of the pot over the hearth. Beef cooked until tender tumbled in the bubbling broth.

"I bought beef especially to celebrate this happy day."

Qu Zan used a wooden fork to give everyone a portion of beef.

At first, Duimu tried to refuse, saying that black tsampa was enough for her and that she did not like meat.

But she could not prevail against Qu Zan. He put a large piece of beef in her bowl.

Meiduo ate the beef, stewed until it fell off the bone, its rich aroma filling her nose. She had eaten candy today, and now meat, and her brother had become a monk...

Even in her dreams, Meiduo could not have imagined such a wonderful day.

Night fell, and Qu Zan slept on a straw mat in the wooden house. He would rise early tomorrow and return to the monastery.

Knock, knock!

Suddenly, someone knocked at the door.

Duimu hurriedly rose and asked, "Who is it?"

"Is that Duimu? I'm Dajie, the village head." A middle-aged man's voice came from outside. "I've come to ask you for help with something."

Duimu was puzzled. Dajie's family owned more than a dozen cattle, over thirty sheep, and several horses...

He was well known as a moderately wealthy man in Sakang Village. Why had he come to her house today, and why was he being so respectful and courteous?

Duimu pushed open the wooden door, went outside, and exchanged a few words with Dajie.

After a while, Duimu came back inside. She approached Qu Zan and called softly, "Venerable sir, a wealthy man in the village would like to invite you to recite scriptures and perform 'phowa (deliverance of the soul).'"

"Venerable sir" was a general honorific for monks, meaning practitioner or spiritual guide.

"How did he know I was here? Did you tell him I have to return to the monastery early tomorrow?"

"You're an honored monk, and many people saw that you were staying with us. I told him. He said someone had just passed away in the middle of the night, and he would like you to recite scriptures to deliver the soul. You would only need to stay until dawn! He's willing to offer you ten taels of secret silver."

"Recite scriptures to deliver the soul." Qu Zan's heart sank. In a place like Mìdì, where uncanny things abounded, he knew that as a monk, he would inevitably have to deal with weddings and funerals.

Ten taels of secret silver was no small sum, enough to cover an ordinary farming family's expenses for a year.

But conducting funerals and delivering souls, especially at night-even though the area was populous and close to the monastery, not as dangerous as the wilderness-

Still, one had to be cautious on the nights of Mìdì.

"I understand. Go to sleep. I'll speak to him." He stepped out through the wooden door.

A prosperous-looking man stood outside, wearing a sheepskin cap, a dark brown woolen robe, and tall Mìdì boots of cowhide. Sandalwood prayer beads hung from him, a Mìdì knife with a copper-clad wooden handle sat at his waist, and turquoise studs adorned both his ears.

At the sight of Qu Zan in his red monastic robes, Dajie hurriedly bowed slightly. "Venerable sir, sorry for the trouble, but please come and chant prayers for my deceased mother. Please accept this small offering."

He presented a tray piled with ten taels' worth of secret silver coins, bright and gleaming. A coral pendant lay on it as well.

Qu Zan placed his hand on the tray and declined. "It's already late tonight, and I have to get up early tomorrow to return to the monastery, so..."

[You have touched a secret resonance of blessings. Absorb it?]

"?"

"At most, I can recite scriptures for one night, until dawn," Qu Zan said.

Dajie nodded repeatedly. "Until dawn is enough. Then I'll go to the monastery and invite lamas to recite scriptures."

Qu Zan followed him to his home.

A red clay pot hung by the entrance, its mouth wrapped in white sheep's wool. Inside was tsampa mixed with butter. The contents of this pot were food for the dead.

In Mìdì, once the rites to deliver the deceased had been completed, there were several methods of burial: stupa burial, sky burial, cremation, water burial, earth burial, pot burial...

Pot burial was generally used for infants who died young. The body was placed inside a clay pot and thrown into a river, or left hanging in a dark room for a long time.

Earth burial was reserved for those who had died violent deaths, hanged themselves, or were of lowly status, such as black bone. The people of Mìdì regarded this method of burial with considerable dread.

Stupa burial was a privilege enjoyed only by living buddhas and eminent monks. After an eminent monk died, his body would either be preserved as a mummy or cremated into ashes. A stupa would be built, and the remains placed deep inside to receive homage and offerings.

Water burial and cremation were also practiced in Mìdì.

Sky burial was the method chosen by the vast majority of herders and serfs. A corpse bearer placed the body on the sky burial platform, where a sky burial master dismembered it, separating the head and bones, and fed it to foraging eagles and vultures.

The deceased was Dajie's mother. She had been over seventy when she died, a long life in Mìdì's harsh environment.

Dajie's mother had already been washed, and butter had been stuffed into her mouth and nostrils. Her body lay in a corner of the room, surrounded by white cloth, with adobe bricks beneath it.

Butter lamps had been lit before the deceased's head.

Their feeble flames flickered, making the entire room shadowy and deep, deeply unsettling.

Before the adobe bricks were tea, liquor, and vegetarian food: butter tea, barley wine, tsampa cakes, and other offerings of fruit. Meat was forbidden at funerals in Mìdì.

After arriving, Qu Zan burned the juniper branches and other things he had brought beside the body, making an incense offering...

Apart from Qu Zan, the monk, Dajie's son and daughter were also keeping vigil.

Qu Zan quietly chanted. The scriptures he had learned included sutras for delivering souls, so the recitation came easily to him. He gathered his thoughts, bringing him-

self into the [Forbearance] state.

"No wonder monks enjoy such high status in Mìdì. One night of reciting scriptures earns more than others can make in a year." Choosing to become a monk had indeed been wise.

He continued reciting scriptures and saw Dajie's son and daughter leaning against the wall, fast asleep.

Qu Zan was actually growing sleepy too, but once entrusted with a task, he had to see it through.

Whoosh...

A night breeze swept past, and the air filled with the smell of decay and corpse stench.