The Last Breath Chapter 3

"How exactly should we avoid it?" I asked.

Uncle Samuel continued: "The timing of a death release seems random but follows patterns. You can predict the approximate time and direction based on the deceased's birth date and time. Then hang a white flag at the door and white paper lanterns in the mourning hall so neighbors and passersby can see from afar and avoid the area.

"So an hour before the release, no living person can remain in the house. Then you leave through the door in the opposite direction from the release, as far as you can go without stopping or looking back. Before leaving, don't forget to light a pair of candles in the deceased's bedroom, and sift some wood ash to spread finely across the bedroom floor. After the release is complete and the family returns, the wood ash will show drag marks—footprints left by the deceased's three souls and seven spirits wandering the room."

Seeing Uncle Samuel getting into his lecture, if it weren't for the pain in both my leg and throat, I wouldn't have wanted to interrupt him.

"Uncle Samuel, what should I do about my situation?"

He sighed. "The dead are paramount—bodies can't be moved carelessly. Changing burial shrouds and placing bodies in coffins require specific techniques to ensure the living don't encounter the dying breath. You didn't know but insisted on interfering, causing your grandmother's premature release. As I said, the dying breath guides the three souls and seven spirits. Now that the breath is in you, your grandmother's soul wants to possess your body."

Mom gasped. "What are the consequences of spirit possession?"

Uncle Samuel pointed to the wound on my leg. "When the dead possess the living, it can't be good. Either you get a strange illness and die suddenly within days, or you go mad and find ways to harm yourself."

Uncle Samuel looked at me and sighed. "Yesterday was only the first day of the wake—things won't get too wild yet. She just left her mark on you. But starting tonight, don't expect any peace."

Dad's face was grim now, Mom's eyes welling with tears. They asked Uncle Samuel if there was any way to break this.

Uncle Samuel looked at me, his eyes like he was looking at a corpse. "There is a way, but I'm afraid it'll scare you to death."

"Whether your grandmother can ascend to paradise and spare your family from disaster," Uncle Samuel said, "depends on tonight. Survive tonight and all will be well. Fail, and the whole family suffers."

Then Uncle Samuel listed several tasks, instructing Mom and Dad to handle them.

After Dad finished listening, I could only vaguely hear a few sentences from inside the room.

Dad apparently didn't believe Uncle Samuel's plan. He thought illness should be treated medically, not pinned on superstition.

But Mom disagreed. "What doctor can explain the tooth marks on our child's leg?"

Two minutes later, the car started. Following Uncle Samuel's instructions, Dad drove to the nearby town and bought another burial shroud.

But this second shroud was for me.

Mom's task was to do my makeup.

Mom borrowed a wolf-hair brush from a neighbor and found some glutinous rice, which she mashed with water. She soaked the brush in the rice water.

Behind the old house was a kitchen with a large black wok. Several people lifted the wok together, and Mom used the wet brush to collect the soot from the bottom.

Soon, the makeup brush was ready.

Mom raised the brush and drew lines on my face.

According to Uncle Samuel, the corners of my eyes and cheeks had to be drawn following the pattern of elderly wrinkles—the more exaggerated, the better.

Of course, Uncle Samuel had his own task.

He gathered dry grass and kindling, burned it all by the stove, then collected the ashes with a winnowing basket and poured them into a sieve.

The fine mesh of the bamboo sieve produced very fine ash—a single breath could make it float.

Soon it was noon, and all preparations were complete.