Zheng Qiulin said, "I can't light the mp. Even if I did, you wouldn't be able to see me. I'm just a wandering soul; I've been dead for seven years. When Hu Wenjin was alive, I would talk to him, but now that he's dead too, I don't want to talk to him anymore. Talking to the dead isn't meaningful, and I can't see him either."

  Song Ke felt like a mountain was pressing down on his chest; he was having trouble breathing, his breaths becoming heavy.

  Zheng Qiulin said softly, "Painter Song, do you want to know how I died?"

  Song Ke couldn't say a word.

  A cold voice came from the darkness: "Do you want to hear it or not? I'm going to say it anyway. Once I say it, I'll feel relieved. Otherwise, I won't close my eyes in peace. Painter Song, let me tell you, I ate so much pork that I died from it.

  Before my son Zheng Mashui became a butcher, I had never had a proper meal of pork. I sent him to learn how to sughter pigs, hoping that he could eat pork every day in the future. On the first night after my son became a butcher, he brought back a huge piece of pork belly, weighing over ten pounds.

  Our whole family was as joyful as if it were New Year's. We stewed over ten pounds of pork belly in a big pot, and even though we all ate our fill, we couldn't finish it, and there was still a big bowl left. I'm such a useless and damnable person.

  In the middle of the night, I was still thinking about the remaining bowl of braised meat, so I quietly got up and sneaked into the kitchen to steal that bowl of braised meat. I ate piece by piece, as if I were trying to eat back decades' worth of pork all at once.

  Where am I eating meat? I'm completely avenging poverty. I can't eat anymore, but I'm still eating. I want to stop but can't. It's as if someone is recklessly shoving meat into my mouth. As I was eating, I suddenly heard a loud bang. My stomach burst, and my intestines spilled everywhere...”

  Tang Town has three market days each month, specifically on the 5th, 15th, and 25th of the lunar calendar. These market days are traditional trading days for the surrounding mountainous areas of Tang Town. On these days, farmers bring their harvested grains and daily necessities to Tang Town for trade; small merchants and vendors also come from the city and other pces to sell their goods. Market days are the busiest days in Tang Town.

  On the 25th day of the fourth lunar month, it was the market day in Tang Town. Before noon, the small street in Tang Town was already bustling with activity. Stalls lined both sides of the street, and people heading to the market were walking back and forth, picking and choosing what they needed, loudly bargaining.

  By noon, Song Ke's painting studio was still closed, while the Hu Ji snack shop across the street was already filled with vilgers enjoying their dim sum. The noise from the town street seemed to have no effect on Song Ke; he was still lying in bed, sound asleep. A faint fishy smell lingered upstairs, seeping out through the cracks of the tightly shut windows and doors.

  A sturdy woman dressed in a Shilin blue coarse cloth side-slit shirt paused in front of the painting studio while carrying a small bamboo basket. She wore a straw hat, which was pulled low over her forehead, obscuring her eyes. She stood there, her nose twitching as if she had caught a whiff of something pleasant. After standing for a while, the woman picked up her bamboo basket and left to find a pce to sell it.

  Song Ke finally woke up, hearing the hustle and bustle of the market outside and the sound of knocking on the door downstairs.

  Dazed, Song Ke got out of bed and went downstairs, his throat dry.

  He opened the door to the painting studio and found Zhong Qi standing in front of him. Zhong Qi was carrying a box gun, wearing a bck silk robe and a bck top hat, with two security team members carrying long guns behind him. This imposing presence startled Song Ke. "Captain Zhong, what brings you here?"

  Zhong Qi smiled and said, "Painter Song, don't be afraid; I'm not here to cause you any trouble. Today is the market day, and I brought these two out to maintain social order. Passing by your shop, I noticed your door was closed, which I found strange. Market day is a perfect time for business; you should have your door open. Vilgers from the surrounding areas know that a new painter has come to Tang Town and will come to ask you to paint portraits for the deceased. You shouldn't miss this valuable opportunity."

  Song Ke said, "Thank you, Captain Zhong. I'll get the painting studio up and running right away."

  Zhong Qi was very close to Song Ke, and he smelled a faint, fishy smell again. He couldn't figure out what the smell was, but he knew it was particurly unpleasant, like the stench of a rotting dead snake exposed to the scorching sun. Zhong Qi covered his nose and left with the two security guards.

  After Zhong Qi walked over, someone quietly said to their companion, "Zhong Qi is actually a deserter. Don't be fooled by his tall and strong appearance; he's just a scaredy-cat. He can't be compared to You Wuqiang. He's afraid of You Wuqiang causing him trouble, so he carries a box gun every day. Look, now he's brought two ckeys, clearly to bolster his courage.

  Having this deserter lead the security team to protect us ordinary folks doesn't seem safe to me. I really don't know if he would run away if bandits came to rob us."

  After Zhong Qi walked over, someone quietly said to their companion, "Zhong Qi was originally a deserter. Don't be fooled by Song Ke going in to wash his face and rinse his mouth." He then sat in the armchair in the shop, feeling at a loss. During those days in the county town, he would set up a painting stall on the street every day, waiting for people to come buy his paintings or ask him to do portraits.

  In fact, very few people came to him to buy paintings and portraits. To make ends meet, he had no choice but to sell his paintings at a low price to a rger art store in the county town, exchanging them for some money for food and rent. Before coming to Tang Town, he had sold all his paintings at a loss.

  He hoped that life would start anew in Tang Town; he didn't want to spend his days there waiting for something to happen. But his current days were clearly just waiting for something to happen, only a bit more peaceful than in the county town. The things that happened at night, he would forget completely by the time he woke up in the morning. He only remembered the night he first arrived in Tang Town, the dream about the old painter.

  He believed that the old painter's soul was still wandering in the painting studio, but he was no longer afraid.

  Song Ke sat there, watching the bustling crowd coming and going at the store entrance, thinking to himself how he couldn't blend in. San Laizi stood at the store entrance, a smile pstered on his ugly face. Song Ke didn't know what he was up to. He said to him, "San Laizi, come in."

  San Laizi replied, "Painter Song, I'm not coming in."

  Song Ke said, "If you're not coming in, what are you standing there for? By the way, why aren't you at Wugong Ridge digging graves today?"

  San Laizi said, "I wanted to invite you to go watch the show with me. Today is the market day, and there's a show to watch. Why would I go dig graves? Even if I die, I want to finish watching the show first."

  There was a hint of innocence in San Laizi's eyes, which made Song Ke find him endearing.

  Song Ke felt a bit moved. He stood up and waved to San Laizi, "Come in, don't just stand at the door."

  San Laizi said, "Painter Song, I'm not going in. The show has already started. Are you going to watch"?

  Song Ke thought for a moment and said, "Alright, I'll go watch the show with you."

  On the empty square outside the nd temple at the east end of the town, people formed a circle. In the center of the circle y a piece of stained red cloth, on which were many bottles and a small pile of tree roots cut into finger-thick segments. There was also a small bamboo cage covered with a piece of bck cloth.