Chapter 3
The prayer mat was… inside Grandma’s coffin.
It had been pinned beneath her corpse.
The lotus mat was completely intact.
There was no sign it had ever been wet.
My brother stared at me in shock.
He had cut that mat himself, right in front of me.
He had hacked it into several pieces, scattering the rushes inside all over the floor.
Then he ordered me to clean up the loose rushes.
But now that same mat
lay perfectly whole in Grandma’s coffin.
My eldest uncle finally breathed a sigh of relief.
He carefully pulled the mat from beneath Grandma’s body.
Then he reached inside and felt around for a long time,
until he drew out something yellow.
At the sight of it,
everyone froze.
It was a paper talisman covered in writing.
The paper had been folded neatly,
but the writing on it had bled.
The entire sheet was sodden, as if it had been soaked in water.
Yet the prayer mat was dry.
If the mat was dry, how could the talisman inside it be wet?
Before anyone could think it through,
my aunt collapsed to the floor.
“It’s over. It’s all over now.”
My brother rummaged in his pocket.
“Huh? Why does this paper look exactly like mine?”
As he spoke, he pulled out a yellow sheet.
He unfolded the crumpled paper.
The characters written on it in vermilion ink were still crisp and clear.
“Where did you find this talisman?”
My brother scratched his head.
“It fell out when I cut up the prayer mat yesterday…”
“No, wait. When Big Sister cut up the mat…”
His voice grew less certain with every word.
I immediately seized on what he had said.
I cried out in delight,
“It was him! He admitted it! He was the one who cut up the mat!”
But none of the adults seemed to hear me.
They took the talisman from him in delight.
“What a good boy. Tianyou truly is our family’s lucky star.”
I did not understand why that piece of paper mattered so much.
They acted as though they had recovered a priceless treasure.
They tucked the talisman back into the mat.
My eldest uncle looked at Grandma in her coffin.
“Mom, please don’t be angry. We found it.”
The instant he finished speaking,
the corners of Grandma’s downturned mouth suddenly curled upward.
It was as though two fingers were propping up the corners of her lips,
forcing her face into a smile.
My brother pointed at her excitedly.
“She’s smiling.”
No one around him seemed frightened. Instead, they all let out sighs of relief.
“A blessed passing. A blessed passing.”
But although they called Grandma’s death a blessed passing,
the family had no intention of giving her a proper funeral.
My eldest uncle was a renowned surgeon in our area.
Dad was a star attorney at his law firm.
The Chen family might have been small, but every one of them was a person of status.
And yet, now that Grandma was dead,
there would be no guests and not even an ordinary burial ceremony.
I asked Mom why.
She only told me that children should not meddle in adult affairs.
That evening,
Mom handed me the prayer mat.
“Starting today, at eleven fourteen every night, you will kneel on this mat before the Buddha statue in the shrine room and kowtow ninety-nine times.”
“You don’t get up until you’re finished.”
My brother smugly munched on his spicy snack sticks and rolled his eyes at me.
I asked Mom,
“Doesn’t he have to do it?”
Mom gave me a flat look.
In a cold voice, she said only,
“This is an honor for the Chen family, and it was your grandmother’s choice.”