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Grave of the Living Man
Today is Qingming Festival, and God is crying. The raindrops were falling down like a kite with its string broken, with no intention of stopping. Master Wu used a cane and, trembling slightly, got on the road and walked towards the vast rain and fog. The eldest daughter-in-law tried to stop him, but his face turned dark, so the eldest daughter-in-law had to give way to him.
The weather in March and April is like a child’s face, it changes so quickly. Yesterday, the sun was shining brightly, and it was still too hot to wear a single shirt and pants. Today, it started to rain. As it rains, the green cauliflowers in the field, red, yellow... all kinds of small wild flowers on the field ridges are blooming like crazy.
The sound of firecrackers exploded like fried beans. From time to time, the low cries of people burning paper money to pay homage to their ancestors could be heard, which made Mr. Wu feel extremely depressed, as if he were pressed against a millstone. This made Mr. Wu feel like he was out of breath. He hurriedly walked towards his feng shui (local people call the tomb feng shui).
Ten years ago, his Feng Shui was really prosperous for a while. Mr. Wu's eldest son works in a bank; his second son works in the county personnel bureau; and his third son, although a little inferior, is also a team leader. His wife passed away early, and she left him before she could enjoy the happiness of her children. In the year of Master Wu's 60th birthday, the brothers together spent nearly 100,000 yuan and spent more than a month at home...
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