Chapter 339 - 186: Crying from Craving Braised Pork Wraps

Chapter 339: Chapter 186: Crying from Craving Braised Pork Wraps

As was their custom, the group wiped down all twelve tombstones in the cemetery. They swept the fallen leaves clean, poured a cup of liquor, and lit a cigarette before each grave.

Then, they gathered before the old man’s tombstone and knelt to pay their respects in turn.

"Mingming, you should ask your grandfather to bless you so you can get married soon and bring me home a daughter-in-law."

"Zhou Jie, you can ask your grandfather to bless you with making lots of money."

"Fanwa, kneel down and ask your great-grandpa to bless you so you do well in school."

When paying respects to ancestors, with joss paper burning before the graves, people would always make simple wishes, praying for their ancestors’ blessings to make them come true.

One by one, they each came forward to pay their respects.

Zhou Yan knelt and kowtowed three times before slowly rising to his feet.

"Come on, little one," Mrs. Zhao called to Zhou Momo.

The little one knelt on a soft cushion.

"What do you want Grandpa to bless you with?" Mrs. Zhao asked with a smile.

Zhou Momo put her hands together, a reverent look on her face, and said in her sweet, childish voice, "Grandpa, I hope you’re happy every day and in good health."

Everyone fell silent, looking at Zhou Momo in surprise.

The old woman looked down at her, a fond, doting smile on her face.

’He always wanted a daughter. Now that he has such a sweet, well-behaved granddaughter, he must be very happy.’

Zhou Yan smiled, too. This little girl, who greeted her grandfather’s memorial photo every time she visited the old woman, didn’t understand anything about blessings. She was simply offering her purest well-wishes.

Zhou Weiguo stepped forward and raised his right hand in a salute.

He was in his military uniform today, the empty sleeve of his left arm swaying in the wind like a banner.

Zhou Yan stared, lost in thought. His youngest uncle had been born after his own father’s death; Grandfather never even knew he existed.

And yet, he was the one most like Grandfather.

He was the one who brought home the family’s second plaque for First-Class Merit.

But this time, he hadn’t made the old woman wait at the village entrance to receive the plaque. He, at least, had come back alive.

The old woman was the last to step forward. She picked up the remaining liquor in the bottle and slowly poured it out in front of the tombstone, murmuring, "This is the liquor from Zhang the Third down by the bridge, your favorite. I’ll fill your cup, so drink up. Weiguo started his new job. He’s the Director of the Armed Forces Department, still leading men. And Zhou Ming and Zhou Yan caught four carjackers the other day. They’re good boys, too..."

The descendants of the Zhou Family stood behind, listening to the old woman speak.

For over thirty years, it had been the same. Every year, with the exception of those away on military service, everyone had to return for this day.

This was the true spirit of the Zhou Family.

Once all the joss paper had been burned and the cigarettes had smoldered to their ends, the group finally packed up their things and left.

Leaving the cemetery, they began the slow hike up the back of the mountain toward Laoxiaoding.

Zhou Yan carried a basket filled with braised meats and vegetables.

Zhou Jie carried a basket, too. Inside were the corn cakes their second aunt had made early that morning—one of the few dishes she could pull off.

Zhou Hai carried the sourdough steamed buns the old woman had made.

The children ran ahead, chattering away as if they had endless energy.

The adults slowed their pace, accompanying the less mobile Zhou Weiguo and the elderly Mrs. Zhou and Zhang Zhengping. They chatted idly as they climbed, enjoying this rare reunion.

Zhang Zhengping leaned against a tree, panting. He took the canteen Zhou Jie offered, took a swig, and shook his head with a smile. "You just can’t deny you’re getting old. A small slope like this has me gasping for air. Back in the day, we used to carry the wounded and run up hills like this without breaking a sweat."

Zhou Weiguo stopped as well, looking up the mountain path with a faint smile. "Back in my penetration company, we could run sixty kilometers a day, and more than half of it was on mountain trails."

"You were tougher than I was, then," Zhang Zhengping said, looking at him with clear admiration.

The old woman looked at him and laughed. "You should get more exercise. See? I’m several years older than you, and I made it this far without breaking a sweat."

"But I do exercise regularly..." Zhang Zhengping’s weathered face flushed with embarrassment.

The group continued up the winding path at a leisurely pace. Along the way, they would occasionally spot stone tablets, half-hidden in the grass—calligraphy left behind by famous poets and scholars of old.

Laoxiaoding, also known as Gaobiao Mountain, is located right inside Jiazhou City and is one of its most famous landmarks. Throughout history, many notable figures have climbed it and left poems in their wake.

The mountain wasn’t high, but its location in the heart of the city made it a rare treasure.

With frequent stops, it took them an hour to reach the summit.

The Daoist temple at the summit was untended, radiating an air of decay, though you could still faintly imagine its past glory.

It was Sunday, so a fair number of visitors were about.

Zhang Zhengping found a long stone bench to sit on, let out a long breath, and laughed. "The mighty Gaobiao Mountain... has been taken."

Zhou Yan walked to the edge of the platform and looked out, the entirety of Jiazhou City unfolding before his eyes.

He had climbed Laoxiaoding before.

But by then, the area was already crowded with tall buildings, making Laoxiaoding seem small and hardly worthy of its title as the "First Pavilion of the Southwest."

But the Jiazhou City of this era was a sea of single-story houses with blue-gray tiles. The view was a wash of gray and white tones. Gazing out from this height, he felt his own world expand.

"Look! The Jiazhou Giant Buddha is over there!" Zhou Jie said, pointing.

Zhou Yan followed his finger. Boats crisscrossed the Min River like shuttles on a loom. From this distance, the Giant Buddha was indistinct, which only added to its majestic and solemn air.

In front of the temple stood a great ginkgo tree that had shed a carpet of golden leaves. A gust of wind sent them RUSTLING and swirling through the air. A group of children were gathering the leaves as if they were treasures.

"Brother, look! They’re the leaves from Yaoyao’s painting!" Zhou Momo ran up to Zhou Yan, clutching a handful of ginkgo leaves, her eyes shining with joy. "They’re so pwetty! Can I take them home? Please!"

"Of course," Zhou Yan said, nodding with a smile. "We’ll take them home and press them for you. Then you can keep them for a long, long time."