Liu Zhengliang was left speechless. He had always looked down upon the practice of boiling various herbs for hours in a pot and ingesting a mixture of alkaloids. Especially at Heping Hospital, he had become so accustomed to it that he couldn’t even be bothered to criticize it. It was like how Giordano Bruno refused to debate the Roman Church over whether the heliocentric or geocentric model was correct—I’m talking about mathematics and physics, while you’re talking about divine creation. We’re not on the same wavelength, so there’s simply no point in arguing. What was there to say?
Liu Zhengliang asked Zhang Dexu, "Do you think he even understands medicine? How dare he prescribe medicine to people? What if something goes wrong?"
Zhang Dexu chuckled and said, "Do you think he’s stupid? He’s a shrewd one. What medicine? I reckon it’s all just seasonings, stuff picked from the 'Thirteen Spices.' It might not cure you, but it won’t kill you either."
Liu Zhengliang said, "Isn’t he afraid the patients’ families will come after him?"
Zhang Dexu replied, "By the time the person dies, the family is at home crying, arranging the funeral, canceling the household registration, and closing bank accounts. They’ve got so much to deal with—who would still remember him? He’s walking the path of psychological comfort, like a therapist. Don’t you see? If you want to get rich, you’ve got to take an unconventional route. Don’t underestimate this little old man. He feasts on delicacies every day, owns over a dozen properties in the city center, and has two wives—one home in Shuncheng District and another in Wanghua District. He sleeps at the first wife’s place on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, at the second wife’s on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and rests on Sundays, drinking medicinal liquor and eating kidney skewers, ready to start the cycle again next week. Look at this old rascal—he’s got energy, managing two households without even getting tired. Meanwhile, we can barely keep one woman satisfied. What do we eat? Green peppers with dried tofu, eggplants, potatoes, and radishes every day. How could we have any energy?"
Those who murder and burn wear golden belts; those who build bridges and mend roads lie unburied.
Liu Zhengliang fell silent. There was nothing more to say.
The reason magical realism is magical realism is that you can never quite figure out why these scoundrels at the entrance of the Second Hospital live more comfortably than the doctors. That Medicine Peddler from Wanghua District just buys ingredients from the seasoning wholesale market, mixes them into some kind of remedy, and sells it for nine hundred yuan. Meanwhile, Liu Zhengliang toils for four or five hours on a single surgery at a public hospital and only earns three hundred yuan in performance pay. The Medicine Peddler from Wanghua District treats everything from cancer to skin diseases, and even deals with erectile dysfunction and premature ejaculation in between. He doesn’t even need to leave the food market to source his raw materials. Liu Zhengliang studied for twenty-four years and now earns a fraction of what that guy makes. The Medicine Peddler sells his remedies with no after-sales service, whether they work or not, while Liu Zhengliang and his colleagues anxiously obtain family consent before surgery and nervously monitor the prognosis afterward.Six more days passed, and Su Jing's husband was taking only half a breath every minute, his face swollen beyond recognition. At three in the morning, the patient suddenly woke up, making faint sounds and saying he wanted to eat meat. Su Jing replied, "Where am I supposed to find meat at this hour?" But she still put on her coat and went out to hail a taxi. The streets of Fushun were deserted in the dead of night. After wandering for half an hour, she found a small supermarket still open where people were playing mahjong. Su Jing bought two crispy sausages and a can of luncheon meat before taking a taxi back. The moment she entered the hospital room, she noticed the alarm on her husband's electrocardiogram monitor was blaring. The doctor came in and performed cardiopulmonary resuscitation for a few minutes before giving up. Su Jing stood by watching, her expression unreadable and showing no visible grief. When the doctor removed the ventilator, Zhang Dexu and Dou Liping immediately approached Su Jing and asked, "How do you plan to arrange the funeral?" Su Jing's dazed expression suddenly snapped, and she came back to herself. Letting out a wail, she pounded the bed and cried, "I have no home anymore!"
After completing the procedures, Su Jing went to the emergency room to see Liu Zhengliang and Chen Junnan, insisting on leaving three hundred yuan for them. They refused, but Su Jing said, "You've been a great help since my husband was admitted, always checking in on him. This is just a small token of appreciation. Please take it."
Liu Zhengliang firmly declined. Not long before she was discharged, Su Jing seized a moment when they weren't paying attention and returned to the emergency room. She slipped the money into an envelope, tossed it onto the desk, and hurried off. Everyone was busy at the time, so no one noticed. When they later opened the envelope and realized what had happened, they sent Chen Junnan to chase after her, but it was too late.
Liu Zhengliang said to Chen Junnan, "We can't accept this money. Wouldn't that be wrong?"
Chen Junnan agreed, "A few years ago, if someone offered, it wouldn't have been a big deal to take it—it's not much money anyway. But now the rules are strict, and it's not worth risking trouble over three hundred yuan. How about this: in a few days, at her husband's funeral, we'll attend and give a condolence gift. That should settle it."
Liu Zhengliang replied, "Give three hundred and then freeload a meal from the widow? What kind of behavior is that?"
Chen Junnan suggested, "Then let's give four hundred. But 'four hundred' sounds like 'die'—that's unlucky and disrespectful."
Liu Zhengliang said, "Then five hundred it is. We'll each contribute one hundred."
Two days later, after work, they went to wait under Su Jing's building for the soul-sending ceremony and happened to see Ai Chen organizing the arrangements.
Ai Chen was coordinating with Su Jing—how many cars each family provided, who would break the mourning pot, who would carry the funeral banner—several tasks had been assigned. When she turned around, she noticed Liu Zhengliang watching her from a distance.
For a moment, she felt embarrassed, but within seconds, the stubborn pride of a Northeastern woman took over. You look down on me? Well, the more you disdain me, the less I care about you. She treated Liu Zhengliang as if he were air, not even granting him a glance.
At that point, the ritual reached the "crying nine packets" segment. Su Jing's uncles and cousins, who had been drinking since noon, came to keep vigil in the afternoon—though they were really just preparing to play mahjong in the evening. When people drink too much, they tend to stir up trouble. The woman performing the "crying nine packets" was middle-aged, while the widow was still young. Usually, the cousins had little contact, but now that the deceased was gone, they remarked, "Brother, you left your wife at just the right time." Emboldened by alcohol, they started telling crude jokes directly to the widow. The elders present found it inappropriate, so they redirected the teasing toward the woman performing the "crying nine packets."One young guy said, "Sing properly. The rule is we pay for each segment you sing. Where do you want me to stuff the money?"
The female funeral singer, a seasoned veteran, retorted, "Boss, you can stuff it wherever you like. For one or two hundred, I'll tuck it in my bra. For a thousand or two, I'll loosen my waistband and you can slip it into my panties. There's always room. In a moment, I'll drink a bottle of beer after each segment I sing, so all you big brothers better cheer me on. If you bosses are feeling generous, show your appreciation with tips."
This stirred up the mood, and several men momentarily forgot their grief over losing a loved one. After all, it wasn't their own parents—they'd already paid their share of the funeral expenses. Since the money was spent, why not have some fun? That was basically the mindset. The host, Su Jing, was inside the main room, wearing heavy mourning attire, but she couldn't stop people from enjoying themselves.
Chen Junnan said to Liu Zhengliang, "If only cremation wasn't mandatory in the Northeast, and graves weren't so small. Otherwise, dancing on the grave wouldn't even be a big deal—we could host an entire Errenzhuan special right there."
The band started playing, accompanied by the erhu and suona. The funeral singer began:
Cry the nine longs, wrap the nine packs,
Nine packs square and nine packs round,
Inside the nine packs are gold and silver coins for the journey ahead.
Cry the nine longs, wrap the nine packs,
At the first pass of the ghost gate,
Ghastly faces block the way.
Don't be afraid, dear sir,
Quickly throw the Joss paper to the ground,
While the little ghosts scramble for the money, you hurry toward the Western Heaven.
Just as she finished this part, a cousin interrupted, "Your singing lacks emotion! If you don't cry, how can we give you money?"
The funeral singer replied, "Brother, I've done too many crying sessions these past few days, sorry about that. Let me drink a few more beers to set the mood."
The cousin said, "Here's what—take off your coat while you sing. Wrapped up in a down jacket like a ball, we can't see anything. How are we supposed to get in the mood? Where would we even stuff the tips?"
Ai Chen had seen enough. On any other day, she'd have someone slap a few faces to settle things, but today she felt embarrassed in front of Liu Zhengliang. She snatched the microphone and said, "I'll sing for you."
A few old-timers under Ai San's command weren't pleased. They grabbed stools, placed them right in front of the bereaved family, sat down, and stared them straight in the face.
Ai Chen continued singing:
Cry the nine longs, wrap the nine packs,
Dear sir, you've reached the Mountain of Ferocious Dogs,
Before the mountain, vicious dogs snarl and block the path.
Don't be afraid, dear sir,
Throw the dog-beating buns to the side,
While the dogs pounce on the food, you hurry on ahead.
The old-timers shouted, "Time to tip! Hurry up! A hundred yuan isn't enough—make it five hundred!"
The young guy who'd earlier talked about stuffing money into her panties reluctantly pulled out five hundred yuan. He didn't dare cause trouble—someone had whispered that this was Ai San's daughter, and he knew exactly who Ai San was.
Ai Chen went on:
Cry the nine longs, wrap the nine packs,
Husband, you've arrived at the Mountain of Ten Thousand Blades,
Before the mountain, evil ghosts force you to climb the blade-covered peak.
Don't be afraid, dear sir,
I've fitted you with lotus shoes,
With a stomp of your feet, you'll cross the Mountain of Blades.
The old-timers flashed their tattoos and said, "Come on, another five hundred. Pay up. This time, you can stuff it in my pants—exciting, huh?"
The young cousin was terrified. He offered the money with both hands, not daring to utter a word.
Ai Chen continued:
Cry the nine longs, wrap the nine packs,
Husband, you've reached Meng Po's Pavilion,
Meng Po offers you a sip of soup,
Wiping clean all memories of our love in this life.
You lived virtuously, dear sir,
In the next life, we'll board the marital boat once more.After singing nine segments, she earned four thousand five hundred yuan. Ai Chen had the emcee tell Su Jing that this money was an advance payment, to be included in the total account.
In that instant, Liu Zhengliang fell in love with Ai Chen. He cursed himself inwardly: Didn't you want the kind of love where even broken bones remain connected by sinews? If things ever became unbearable, this woman would surely break your legs without hesitation. What kind of love are you looking for in your thirties? Those shy glances and electric sparks when eyes meet—that's not real love. You need a woman with substance, one who's like chewing on grilled gluten—springy and resilient, like Spicy Mix—where spicy, numbing, sour, and sweet flavors all come together.
After finishing her performance, Ai Chen came over and stood face to face with Liu Zhengliang, their eyes locked. Ai Chen said, "See, this is my job. I meet all kinds of people. Sorry if it embarrassed you."
Liu Zhengliang replied, "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. I think you're amazing, managing such a large operation. This business isn't something just anyone can handle."
Ai Chen said, "Come take a walk with me later. It's been a long time since we've seen each other, and I've missed you."
Ai Chen didn't want to drive, but as they walked along the small road outside the aluminum plant, the path was covered in alumina dust. Ai Chen sighed and said, "Look at this place, Fushun. I can't even find a spot with a bit of class. Every few steps there's another rundown factory, with dust and ash flying everywhere."
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