Coffins and All That

Sought out another of Lilian Lee's (or Li Bi Hua, Li Pik Wah) books at the library. Found something about a coffin. Or rather of the Chinese custom of placing an order for a coffin made to the individual's satisfaction before his death. Anyway, it was a book comprising 16 short stories. Nice. 李碧華的散文集《喜材》，共十六篇。 

I like them all. They're morality tales. Perhaps morbid. Many are based on urban superstitions, but that's life. I'm beginning to understand why Lilian Lee is such a revered author in Hong Kong and China. Her writing is real, concise and chilling. In these tales of the supernatural, she has deftly inserted arguments of how love in all forms bind us to obligations, how greed and guilt corrupt the naive, and how of the fights and ugliness of the political system haven't changed since the ancient times. Let's pick two stories to quote here.

The first eponymous story 第一篇《喜材》described protagonist retired Teacher Mi (米永祥老師) who lived in the Qing Dynasty as a man of integrity; served as a tutor/governor to the children of the rich and the elite. Still, he couldn't escape the 'greed' that he taught his charges not to acquire. In accordance with ancient Chinese customs, he scrimped and saved only to have a high quality wood coffin tailored at the age of 60 in preparation for death. It was called a 'happy coffin'. 所謂‘喜材’，而不是人死後的‘壽材’。

But there was a curious turn of events that saw him live till 70. He loaned out his coffin to those who needed it first, and in the process, he only asked for payment-in-lieu to have an additional inch of wood added to his coffin. People seemed to like their coffin wood to be thick and sturdy. It resulted in the original three-inches-thick coffin gradually become nine-inches thick. As luck would have it, there was a fire, and his coffin was seared. The shop rescued it by sanding away the burnt wood, and Teacher Mi was back to square one with a coffin three-inches thick.

仍是「么二三」。 

仍是當初他嫌的薄棺。經歷了這麼多，到頭來還了原貌，打回原形。如此而已。 

可他已平靜坦然地面對「喜材」，還帶一絲看清、看通、看透、看化、看破的喜悅，發自五內，更上層樓。 

他想起很多很多年以前，給富戶東家的孩子講過，鄧通坐擁銅山鑄錢流通天下，歷盡興衰起跌，死時卻不名一文的故事。再富裕的人，生不帶來死不帶去，只如過眼煙雲。

「再厚的再薄的棺材，到頭來亦黃土一抔荒塚一堆，化作泥塵滲入大地罷了。」他釋然。 

一切都是命中注定。

The other story that stuck, mused and clarified the origins of a Cantonese phrase. If you speak Cantonese, do you recall a phrase that goes, 「陸雲廷睇相— 唔衰攞嚟衰」? More or less telling us 'don't look for trouble' or 'create unnecessary angst for ourselves'. In《陸榮廷睇相》, the writer explains that the name 陸雲廷 has been mispronounced since the Cantonese words sound similiar. The third character of the name went from the original 'weng/wing' to the-frequently-uttered 'wuen/wun'. The original name would have been 陸榮廷 or 原名為'陸亞宋' (1856-1927).

The story illustration for this story was quite pretty. Peonies I think. So this man 陸榮廷 was an actual warlord who lived in the early nineteenth century in Canton. One day he discarded the warlord finery and uniform, disguised in rags and went to see a fortune-teller who was reputed to be good. I guess history didn't name him, but the writer nicknamed him as Jin Diao Tong (金吊桶).

But the fortune-teller said (or foretold) two phrases that the warlord didn't like. Fearing his wrath, the fortune-teller had to flee Canton the very next day. As history would have it (May Fourth Movement 1919, KMT vs CPC and all that), the warlord's fortunes (along with many others) indeed declined. As the story passed around, the pronunciation of the middle character of kinda changed as it was perhaps misunderstood. So that was that.

金吊桶見他說廣西話，非廣東口音，來者不善，也許一眼睇穿他的目的，也許道行高洞悉天機，合指一算，便說：「你正一唔衰攞嚟衰。」 

有兩個意思：（一）你本來就是貴人，卻裝成衰相，是自己「攞嚟」的，即是一手造成與人無尤。（二）道破天機：以後走的是下坡路。 

既不當面揭穿亦不故意恭維，金吊桶一句話令陸榮廷心中有刺，一怒轉身離去。 

............ 

中國人其實有智慧之言：「窮算命，富燒香」— 若各項順遂如意，亦有所得，這個「好運」就不要動它分毫，根本不必轉運，誠心上香還神積德積福，順之而行便是。只有命途多舛，際遇坎坷的人，一窮二白，處處碰壁，才去占卜算命，希望江湖術士提點迷津，逃過一些災劫，另覓新生，「終須有日龍穿鳳，唔通日日褲穿窿」？為得鼓勵，打破悶局，斬斷窮根。 

衰，便求「唔衰」；唔衰，何必多此一舉？ 

陸榮廷的故事，其實在教誨了很多貴人賤人好人衰人明人暗人善人惡人...... 一句話，擲地有聲，金石良言。