Early in my life, when I was about ten, a relative in our family passed away. She was my grandfather's cousin, whom we called Great Aunt.
Great Aunt died suddenly during her afternoon nap, never making it to the hospital. When her son returned from the fields that afternoon and found she wasn't breathing, his wail brought the entire village running.
Back then, rural areas didn't practice cremation. The elderly focused on two essential preparations for their eventual passing: crafting their own coffin (called "longevity wood") and selecting an auspicious burial spot. Great Aunt had already handled both, so shortly after her death, she was placed in her coffin with the lid left open for people to pay respects.
As she was our elder, we naturally attended. After kowtowing and offering incense, I went to play with my cousins. That first night, my cousin told me to sleep early because Daoist priests would perform a grand ceremony the following evening. What ceremony? The most fascinating part of any Daoist funeral ritual was undoubtedly the "Crossing the Immortal Bridge."
Rural funerals were elaborate affairs, especially back then. Wealthy families emphasized thickness in everything: thick coffin boards, thick burial clothes, and thick blankets for the deceased.
Novels often mention poor people buried in thin coffins or simply wrapped in straw mats—symbols of financial hardship. Great Aunt's family was considered wealthy in our area, so her coffin was particularly fine. Made of cedar, it followed strict specifications: three boards each for the bottom, lid, sides, front, and back. The five-layered bottom used twenty cedar planks, each representing prosperity—a symbol of a wealthy household.
For burial clothes, rich people would have "five upper garments, three lower garments, all silk throughout," meaning five pieces for the upper body, three for the lower, all made from silk—actually silk cotton. Recently, I attended a funeral where I brought a blanket as a gift that had a tag reading "Nationally standardized price: 88 yuan..."
Burial clothes typically followed Ming Dynasty fashion: round collar, square headdress, and thick-soled boots. This practice reflected the saying, "Living in modern dress, dead but not surrendering"—referring to how people wore contemporary clothes in life but Ming Dynasty outfits (the last Han Chinese dynasty) in death.
At death, wealthy people had silk cloths placed over their faces, while ordinary folks used yellow spirit money paper. The deceased's hands were positioned slightly clenched, holding seven small loaves of bread on a stick—called "dog-beating biscuits"—intended to be thrown at vicious dogs encountered in the netherworld. A silver coin was placed in the mouth, with additional coins in each hand.
After death, an oil lamp was lit by the bed, incense burned, and an "upside-down rice" bowl placed nearby with two eggs. The entire family had to kneel. If the deceased had daughters, they needed to burn exactly nine pounds and four ounces of spirit money. Relatives and friends were notified, and messengers were sent to announce the death—a physically demanding task requiring a new pair of liberation shoes for the messengers who walked to inform distant relatives. Dressing the deceased in burial clothes was called the "minor encoffinment."
A village member informed us of Great Aunt's death, and we arrived just in time for the minor encoffinment. How did this proceed? Village women assisted, first wiping Great Aunt's body with a new towel dipped in river water—three strokes on the front, three on the back—followed by brushing her hair three times.
For changing into burial clothes, they prepared a wooden measuring container with an oil lamp inside holding seven wicks. A bamboo sieve was placed on top, with the burial garments arranged on it. The garments were first draped over the mourning son (Great Aunt's son) before being placed on her. The son's undershirt collar was cut off and tucked into Great Aunt's collar. Her hands and feet were covered with silk cotton sleeves, and then everyone waited for the funeral director or Daoist priest to arrive.
Great Aunt's family had hired a Daoist priest from the neighboring village, who usually earned his living by fortune-telling and performing simple rituals. Back then, the family had to formally invite him with a red envelope, a carton of cigarettes, two bottles of white liquor, two pounds of white sugar, a pig's head, and various cloth materials. Only then would the priest agree to come, carrying himself with great importance.
By the time I arrived, the priest was already there, holding a bell in one hand and a kitchen knife in the other, with a bowl resting on the knife. He was chanting an incantation called "Breaking the Baleful Energy," while scattering tea leaves mixed with rice into the coffin. After shouting "Rise!" several helpers lifted Great Aunt into the coffin. Others immediately gathered the straw from under her bed and her old clothes and shoes, taking them outside the main gate to burn them—a practice called "burning the bedding straw." Placing the deceased in the coffin constituted the "major encoffinment." The knife and bowl were then placed under the coffin, a "long sleep lamp" was lit, and the children began wailing while we young ones stepped forward to kowtow.
After dinner that evening, my cousin led me to hide in a corner to secure a close-up view of the "Crossing the Immortal Bridge" ceremony. This wasn't easy since children weren't allowed to witness it, so we concealed ourselves beneath the stairwell.
The Daoist priest brought out a chair with back support, dressed it in clothes, and formed a head at the top using cotton, covered with a black cloth. An apron was wrapped around the chair to represent Great Aunt. Then six square tables were arranged in a line and bamboo poles placed on top to form a bridge shape. At midnight, the mourning son knelt holding a memorial tablet to welcome the departed spirit. As the priest chanted sutras, everyone helped guide the spirit (represented by the chair) across the bridge. The atmosphere was deeply eerie.
Great Aunt's eldest son—my elder cousin-uncle—walked in front carrying the spirit tablet, while my younger cousin-uncle and cousin-sister supported the chair from behind. The priest led the way, walking with eyes closed while ringing his bell. The bridge formed an arch. After the priest crossed successfully and the elder cousin-uncle made it across, everyone waited for the younger cousin-uncle to cross. However, he stumbled at the highest point of the arch. Initially, people thought the bamboo was slippery, but the priest explained that Great Aunt was reluctant to depart, still attached to her family, and instructed the younger cousin-uncle to try again.
Everyone watched with curiosity as he made another attempt, only to fall at exactly the same spot. This time, the priest, looking concerned, suggested that my cousin-sister, her husband, and younger cousin-sister support the chair instead. Remarkably, on the third attempt, they also fell at the identical spot.
Failing to cross the Immortal Bridge meant the soul couldn't enter reincarnation. This alarmed everyone present. While we children were still treating it as entertainment, many adults wanted to leave, sensing something was wrong.
The old priest, witnessing such a situation for the first time, became flustered. He grabbed some hemp rope and tied the chair directly to my younger cousin-uncle's body. Changing carriers at this point was unacceptable—it would suggest he wasn't a filial son, causing great embarrassment.
During the fourth crossing attempt, when the chair reached that same position, the entire bridge suddenly collapsed with a loud crash. Everyone on the bridge, including the priest, tumbled to the ground, and the chair shattered into pieces.
People rushed to help them up. While everyone else seemed unharmed, the priest had hit his forehead on the corner of a table and was bleeding. As people found a towel to press against his wound and asked what to do next, the old priest was clearly shaken. "I quit! I quit! There's a ghost here!" he cried with a trembling voice. Holding his head, he fled without even collecting his ritual implements.
Imagine—when even the priest ran away claiming there were ghosts, the remaining crowd erupted in panic. Who would dare stay? Apart from Great Aunt's immediate family, everyone else, including me, rushed out.
That night we stayed at my grandmother's house. Before dawn, someone pounded frantically on their door. My grandfather opened it to find my elder cousin-uncle, his legs trembling as he grabbed Grandfather's arm. "Uncle, please come keep us company! No one dares stay in our house. We're terrified. We'll just bury her tomorrow morning and be done with it. We can't continue with this funeral ceremony."
My grandfather had witnessed the scene and knew that burying Great Aunt early the next morning would save trouble. However, it wasn't proper, and since the priest had been frightened away, the family might never feel comfortable living in that house again. He thought of Zha Wenbin, asked my elder cousin-uncle to wait, and woke my father to quickly go see him.
During those years, my family didn't have much contact with Zha Wenbin. He visited our home a few times, but each time he just took a short trip to the General's Temple and then left. It's said that he didn't spend much time at home; nobody knew what he was up to.
In the middle of the night, we rushed to the Zha family. Wenbin's Son, Zha Liang, opened the door. We asked where his father was, and Zha Liang said he was asleep, having just returned from out of town and had barely settled down to rest. My father, quite respectful of him, only dared to disturb him because of the urgency of the matter.
It wasn't long before Zha Wenbin emerged, draping a robe over his shoulders and asking my father what was the matter. After years of not seeing him, Zha Wenbin still looked spirited. My father explained the situation, and Zha Wenbin grabbed his Eight Trigrams bag and set off with my father to my grandmother's house, instructing his son to mind the house.
By the time they arrived at Grandmother's, it was already dawn. Zha Wenbin first stopped by Auntie's place to take a look and then made his way to the old Daoist's house. He knocked on the door, greeted the old Daoist, and inquired about the events of the day before returning to Grandmother's house.
Upon arriving back at Grandmother's, Zha Wenbin said he needed to rest and instructed them to wake him when it got dark. He also asked Auntie's family to carry on as usual but not to seal the coffin because he would go there at night.
Zha Wenbin was never one to offer much explanation, so everyone simply followed his instructions. Auntie's household had few people left, and the villagers were too scared to go near. We kids were also warned to stay put and not roam around outside.
When evening came, Grandmother gently woke Zha Wenbin. After dinner, my father couldn't hold back and asked what was going on. Zha Wenbin grinned and said that the old Daoist probably wouldn't take on such tasks again. Someone who had merely learned encoffinment from a funeral director dared call himself a Daoist.
The distinction between real and fake Daoists isn't about knowing the basic routines but lies in the tools they possess and their spiritual connection.
This is who Zha Wenbin was.
That evening, when everyone found out that the Daoist who had once saved Auntie had returned to Auntie's, the news drew curious onlookers by the droves. Even those who had been frightened out of their wits the previous night ventured over for a thrill. Yet, Zha Wenbin never disappointed. The previous night's chaos had been tidied up. The old lady lay asleep in her coffin, with incense still burning, and the long sleep lamp below still alight. The crowd outside craned their necks for a better view.
As soon as Zha Wenbin entered, his first words nearly frightened half the crowd to death: "Take the paper off your mother's face, before she suffocates."
My Uncle was bewildered. How could a dead person suffocate? Was this Daoist mad?
Seeing no one move, Zha Wenbin shook his head and removed the yellow paper himself, stating again, "Men remain, women return to their homes. Shut the door." Initially, the group of women watching hesitated to leave, but Zha Wenbin followed with, "Anyone interested in becoming a substitute corpse can stay." He then pointed his ritual sword at the just-removed yellow paper, which flared into flames.
Seeing this, the women left hurriedly, not wishing to remain and risk becoming substitute corpses. Among them, a woman screamed and ran, prompting the others to scatter like startled animals, fearing to be the last left behind.
Once everyone had left, us children were ushered home by the women. This left a group of men behind. Zha Wenbin announced that anyone who had been intimate with their wife should also leave. Embarrassed, a few men scratched their heads and left amid teasing laughter.
After the door was shut, Zha Wenbin, looking serious, instructed those present to sit on the floor and, regardless of what transpired, not to utter a sound. He then lifted the old lady from the coffin, laying her on a wooden door, and asked my Uncle to change her burial clothes into everyday attire. As her clothing had already been burned, we hastily dressed her in my cousin's clothes before she was laid back on the door. Then, Zha Wenbin indicated they should cut the lights and cautioned everyone against panicking, no matter what occurred.
With that, he set up the ritual table and placed the essential items for the ceremony on it, but this time there was only a single memorial tablet and incense, nothing else.
Zha Wenbin sat on the ground, crossed his hands in meditation, and soon entered a trance. If I must describe this scene myself, it would be from Zha Wenbin's perspective, for we outsiders merely awaited the outcome, unaware of the underlying dangers.
Zha Wenbin's technique was soul projection. He needed the company of strong men to lend their Yang energy, ensuring he would return. Were it not for my Grandmother, he wouldn't have taken this task, as the Underworld isn't a place everyone is keen to visit.
The task stemmed from not being able to "Cross the Immortal Bridge," a ritual symbolizing the safe passage of the deceased to the afterlife, thus separated by realms. Auntie's repeated failed attempts weren't due to her reluctance but her inability to cross.
The Immortal Bridge leads to the Underworld—a path that all mortals must take when their allotted lifespan ends. Nobody can refuse this journey; the Underworld Messengers will force you across. It doesn't matter if you're an elderly woman or a fierce warrior—everyone must make this crossing.
The old Daoist from before merely knew how to perform ceremonies—going through the motions, following rituals by rote. But truly communicating with spirits? Even Zha Wenbin himself couldn't be entirely confident about that. Negotiating with ghosts isn't just a matter of conversational skill—how can you negotiate when you can't even find the ghost to begin with?
Zha Wenbin's trance state was his method of finding this ghost. Great Aunt's natural lifespan hadn't actually ended—her soul had been snatched. Sometimes, people who die unjust deaths before their time, whose physical bodies are damaged beyond recovery, cannot return to the living world. Their souls cannot enter the six realms of reincarnation and remain adrift, searching for someone to take their place in suffering so they can be reborn. These are what we commonly call "substitute corpses."
Great Aunt's birth date and time happened to align with someone who had died unjustly. While sleeping, her soul was inexplicably snatched away to become this person's substitute. Because after death her soul would be forced to wander in place of another, unable to enter the Underworld, how could she possibly cross the Immortal Bridge? She couldn't take that path, which is why the crossing failed repeatedly.
Knowing this, Zha Wenbin decided to try something. Fortunately, Great Aunt's physical body remained intact. If he could find her soul and eliminate the harmful ghost, there was still a chance she could return to life.
After entering his trance, Zha Wenbin's soul temporarily left the mortal realm and entered the ghost realm—the Underworld. This ability wasn't as simple as buying a train ticket; it required certain mystical powers. Without these powers, if his physical body remained unguarded, it could be possessed by other entities, or he might encounter dangers that would leave him forever unable to wake, just like Great Aunt.
Zha Wenbin had very little time. He didn't possess the divine ability to come and go freely between realms. Using yang energy to protect his physical form gave him only the time it took for one incense stick to burn—the incense he had lit served as his timer. Whether successful or not, he had to return before that incense burned out in the mortal realm, or he would lose his way home forever.
Every person has three hun-souls and seven po-souls. Zha Wenbin could see that Great Aunt still had one po-soul remaining in her body. Though it was merely a thread, it was worth trying to save her.
After entering the Underworld, Zha Wenbin first examined this remaining thread of po-soul. The three hun and seven po form a complete entity—as long as one po remained, it meant Great Aunt hadn't gone far, or was still struggling to remain. Zha Wenbin performed a ritual—the Great Sun Buddha Anchoring of Three Souls—to secure this thread to Great Aunt's physical form, buying himself time before hurrying toward the path between the living and dead realms.
At the entrance to the Naihe Bridge, Zha Wenbin spotted two Underworld Messengers escorting a soul about to cross. Whose soul was it? It belonged to the very ghost who had snatched Great Aunt's soul. Zha Wenbin immediately blocked their path. These Messengers typically didn't concern themselves with such matters—as long as the wandering ghosts found substitute souls to report back with, they didn't care who was chosen. After death, everyone received the same treatment.
After Zha Wenbin explained the situation to the Messengers, they still refused to help. They had a job to complete—how could they abandon a task already in progress? Zha Wenbin argued that Great Aunt still had twenty-one years of natural lifespan remaining and shouldn't become anyone's substitute. The Messengers replied that they only handled transportation, not lifespan issues, and attempted to continue on their way.
When Zha Wenbin blocked them again, the Messengers prepared to use force. After all, a mere mortal practitioner daring to steal souls from the Underworld was practically suicidal. Underworld Messengers have their own hierarchy—these two were low-ranking officials responsible merely for capturing wandering ghosts, nothing special—but Zha Wenbin still couldn't be certain of victory.
Looking back, Zha Wenbin saw the incense had nearly burned out. If he didn't return soon, he might be trapped here forever. Looking ahead, he saw Old Lady Meng preparing to pour her memory-erasing soup. He shouted: "Messengers, stop! Leave this person behind!"
The two Messengers wouldn't listen to a minor Daoist like him and continued forward. Left with no choice, Zha Wenbin produced the Celestial Master's seal inherited from his master and asked: "Messengers, do you recognize this object?" The Messengers stopped, turned around, and examined this small Daoist up and down: "Why do you possess this item? Who are you?"
"You recognize this seal?" Zha Wenbin had merely intended to frighten them, but was surprised by their reaction. He decided to reveal his ritual sword as well.
Seeing him brandish the sword, the two Messengers stepped back, exchanging glances. The one who appeared to be in charge said: "The Seven Star Sword? Say no more, Daoist Master. We don't mean to trouble a master from the Mao Mountain Sect, but surely as its head, you understand Underworld rules. Once someone arrives here, they cannot be taken back. If we return without completing our task, even with the Three Pure Ones protecting you, you'll find it difficult to escape the Netherworld!"
My goodness—the seal belonged to the head of the Mao Mountain Sect! Did this mean that Master Cang Jin had passed leadership to Master Ling Zhengyang? Then... why was my ancestral master given the sect leader's seal but later expelled from the mountain? How strange!
With these two treasures in hand, Zha Wenbin gained confidence: "What if I insist on taking her?" He raised the seal as if about to smash it down. The two Messengers covered their heads, clearly frightened. Seeing his intimidation working, Zha Wenbin felt more assured. He put away the seal and looked at the Messengers.
The Messengers exchanged glances: "Master, if you absolutely must take this soul, you must provide us with another. If we return empty-handed and our superiors learn of this, even you won't escape punishment!"
Zha Wenbin nodded in agreement: "Tomorrow, return to Hong Village. I'll provide you with a resolution." After putting away his seal and sword, he approached them and pulled out some spirit money, pressing it into their hands: "Take this for some wine. When I return, I'll present you both with a grand offering!"
"We dare not accept gifts from the Mao Mountain Sect leader," they protested, but after some polite refusal, the messengers took the money and released the soul, agreeing to return to Hong Village the next day. Then they departed together. On their journey back, the unfortunate soul-snatching ghost received a beating from both Zha Wenbin and the Messengers. Upon hearing that Zha Wenbin was the Mao Mountain Sect leader, the ghost feared being cursed to never achieve rebirth and confessed to having died after falling while gathering herbs at the foot of Horse Head Mountain. Sure enough, Zha Wenbin found Great Aunt's soul there. After thanking the two Messengers again, he returned to the realm of the living.
Just as the incense burned out, Zha Wenbin awoke from his trance and rushed to the foot of Horse Head Mountain. The group, carrying lanterns, finally found a decomposed skeleton among scattered rocks. Someone immediately recognized it as an herb gatherer from the neighboring village who had been missing for a long time. They quickly notified the family.
When the family arrived, they broke into tears. Zha Wenbin didn't reveal everything, simply advising them to find a good burial site, inter the remains properly, and burn plenty of spirit money and incense. Then he returned to Great Aunt's house. This time, no one was allowed inside—everyone stood at the doorway.
Zha Wenbin requested that Great Aunt be placed on her bed and the scene restored to how it was before the incident. Nobody understood what he was planning, but they complied, agreeing to return before dawn. In reality, Zha Wenbin feared that if Great Aunt woke to find her own funeral in progress, she might die from shock.
After the first rooster crow, as dawn approached, Zha Wenbin returned with the others. The elder cousin-uncle entered first and found Great Aunt still lying on the bed. Zha Wenbin signaled for him to call out to her.
The elder cousin-uncle gently called "Mother." The reclining Great Aunt's hand moved slightly, then her eyes opened. She rubbed them and asked: "What is it?"
This caused an uproar—a dead person coming back to life! Wasn't this a corpse reanimation? As everyone prepared to flee, Zha Wenbin assured them there was nothing to fear: "Your mother was merely in a deep sleep. She was never dead. Feel her hand if you don't believe me."
Some of the braver ones approached and touched her hand—it was warm. Great Aunt looked at the crowd with confusion...
And so, Great Aunt was rescued by Zha Wenbin. But the story wasn't over yet...
A few days after Zha Wenbin left, an old man died in the village. In truth, this elder's natural lifespan hadn't ended either. Zha Wenbin had calculated that he was the closest to his natural end among everyone in the village, so he wrote down the old man's birth date and time on a paper and burned it at the village entrance—effectively sending him to heaven ahead of schedule.
After the old man's death, Zha Wenbin broke his own rules and performed a ritual ceremony, hoping to help the elder ascend to paradise more quickly. However, this action filled him with guilt. Such interference was bound to invoke divine punishment, and it planted the seeds for many troubles that would follow.
A few days later, the Underworld Messengers appeared in Zha Wenbin's dreams, warning him that exchanging lives always comes with a price. Thinking they merely wanted material offerings, he burned large quantities of spirit money for them. Little did he know that the price for this soul exchange would come so swiftly, and would be so devastatingly heavy.
Zha Wenbin had two children. His young daughter was exceptionally bright and clever, earning his special affection. Since his wife had died early, he rarely left the village, serving as both father and mother to his children. Having lost his own parents at a young age, he poured all his love into his son and daughter. His little girl was particularly thoughtful and well-behaved—despite her young age, she helped with cooking and laundry. No matter how late Zha Wenbin returned home, she always had hot food waiting for him, which made him feel deeply grateful toward her.
That fateful day was Chinese New Year's Eve. At noon, Zha Wenbin's daughter carried a basket to the riverside to wash vegetables. She somehow tumbled in and drowned in water barely knee-deep. By the time someone notified Zha Wenbin, she had stopped breathing. Without a word, he carried his daughter's body home, locked the door, and descended straight to the Underworld to reclaim her.
Rushing along the Yellow Springs Path, before even reaching the Naihe Bridge, he encountered the same two Underworld Messengers. Immediately losing his temper, he drew his weapon and charged at them. The messengers pleaded for mercy, insisting they weren't responsible. Zha Wenbin, his eyes blood-red with rage, wouldn't believe them. He was prepared to sacrifice himself if that's what it took to bring his daughter back—her lifespan hadn't been meant to end yet! Seeing their pleas failing, the messengers finally revealed the truth: Zha Wenbin's daughter had died because he had crossed boundaries and angered heaven. This was divine retribution, not their doing. If he wanted his son to remain safe, he should let the matter rest. Even with all his abilities, Zha Wenbin couldn't defy heaven—if he returned to the Underworld again, his son would be the next to perish!
Oh, Zha Wenbin—momentarily heroic but reckless for a lifetime. Fighting against heaven? Defying the natural order? Did he really possess such tremendous power? What was he, after all? Merely a minor mortal Daoist. When he came to his senses, he found himself back in the mortal realm, watching his son wailing beside his sister's body. Zha Wenbin tightly embraced his son, clenching his teeth in anguish. On New Year's Eve, he buried his daughter beside his wife's grave. What good was it being a Daoist? His parents died early, his wife died early, and now his daughter was gone too. Looking at his only remaining child, Zha Wenbin swore to protect him at all costs.
People say that when the King of Hell decides you'll die at the third watch, he won't let you live until the fifth. After his daughter's death, she appeared in Zha Wenbin's dream, telling him she had died to repay the debt he incurred six months earlier. By intercepting a soul on its journey, he had provoked divine wrath—the price being his daughter's tragic death on New Year's Eve. This was King Yan's warning to Zha Wenbin: "You may be revered in the mortal realm, but I rule the Underworld!" Everything follows the law of cause and effect—whatever you gain requires a sacrifice.
This incident devastated Zha Wenbin. For a long time, he shut himself away at home, contemplating the meaning of the Dao. This would lead to many more remarkable events in this Daoist's life!
After his daughter drowned, Zha Wenbin locked himself in his house for three months, refusing all visitors—including us when we attempted to check on him. After those three months, he burst out of his home and headed straight for the provincial capital. From this point forward, the first-person "I" can no longer narrate this story. The protagonist has completely transformed into him—the last Daoist: Zha Wenbin!
Zha Wenbin understood he had provoked heaven's anger, but rebellion ran in his bones. Why should heaven dictate human destiny? Why couldn't one fight against heaven's will? Now it seemed the only solution might be the legendary "Wish-Fulfilling Manual." Where was this mythical book? Did it even exist? Everything remained unknown, but the murals in the underground palace had given him a glimmer of hope. The writings on the walls of the General's Temple might provide clues, which is why he sought out Professor Wang from the archaeological team.
He entrusted his son to Grandmother's care for a while. She naturally agreed. He left some money which she initially refused, but eventually accepted reluctantly, saying she would use it to buy clothes for his son.
Zha Wenbin traveled wearily to the provincial capital, where Professor Wang was already waiting at the station for this Daoist whom he regarded as half-human, half-divine. As an archaeological expert, Professor Wang should have been an atheist, but some things couldn't be explained by science. He had heard about the drowning of Zha Wenbin's daughter and arranged lodging for him at the institution's guesthouse. After sitting down, Zha Wenbin wasted no time on pleasantries, immediately asking Professor Wang to take him to Mr. He, desperate for any leads.
Being a hospitable person, Professor Wang contacted Mr. He, and the three arranged to meet that evening for drinks at the Lou Wai Lou restaurant.
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Chinese Words/Phrases in Chapter 5 Crossing the Immortal Bridge
Character Names and Titles
1. Zha Wenbin (查文斌) - The Daoist practitioner who assists the narrator's family
2. Professor Wang (王教授) - Archaeological team leader
3. Mr. He (何老) - Expert in ancient scripts from the provincial museum
4. Great Aunt (大姑) - Grandfather's cousin who passed away
Daoist Practitioners and Sects
1. Daoist (道士) - Practitioner of Daoism who performs rituals
2. Mao Mountain Sect (茅山派) - Famous Daoist lineage mentioned in the story
3. Three Pure Ones (三清) - Highest deities in the Daoist pantheon
4. Master Cang Jin (藏金师父) - Previous leader of the Mao Mountain Sect
5. Master Ling Zhengyang (凌正阳师父) - Current leader of the Mao Mountain Sect
Divination Tools and Objects
1. Seven Star Sword (七星剑) - Ritual weapon used by Daoist practitioners
2. Celestial Master's seal (天师印) - Sacred Daoist artifact with spiritual authority
3. Spirit money (纸钱) - Paper offerings burned for the dead
4. Long sleep lamp (长明灯) - Lamp kept burning during funeral proceedings
5. Memorial tablet (灵牌) - Tablet representing the deceased's spirit
Ritual Practices and Techniques
1. Crossing the Immortal Bridge (过仙桥) - Funeral ritual to help souls enter afterlife
2. Breaking the Baleful Energy (破煞) - Ritual to dispel negative energy
3. Minor encoffinment (小殓) - Dressing the deceased in burial clothes
4. Major encoffinment (大殓) - Placing the deceased in the coffin
5. Burning the bedding straw (烧草绷) - Ritual burning of the deceased's bedding
6. Great Sun Buddha Anchoring of Three Souls (大日如来三魂定) - Soul-stabilizing ritual
7. Trance state (入定) - Meditative state allowing soul travel
Cultural and Historical References
1. Wish-Fulfilling Manual (如意册) - Legendary Daoist text with magical powers
2. Three hun-souls and seven po-souls (三魂七魄) - Daoist concept of soul composition
3. Dog-beating biscuits (打狗饼) - Bread placed with the deceased to ward off netherworld dogs
4. Longevity wood (寿木) - Term for a coffin prepared before death
Locations
1. Naihe Bridge (奈何桥) - Bridge souls must cross to enter the underworld
2. Horse Head Mountain (马头山) - Mountain near the village
3. Hong Village (洪村) - Village mentioned in the story
4. Yellow Springs Path (黄泉路) - Path to the underworld
5. Lou Wai Lou restaurant (楼外楼) - Restaurant in the provincial capital
Mythological Beings
1. King Yan (阎王) - Ruler of the Chinese underworld
2. Old Lady Meng (孟婆) - Mythological figure who serves memory-erasing soup
3. Underworld Messengers (阴差) - Spirits who escort souls to the afterlife