Intro
I had never been to a Chinese funeral before, much less one conducted in the ancient Taoist tradition. The smoke and noise were simply overwhelming. The eye-stinging incense was smothering, with, I suspected, the sole purpose of making the guests cry regardless of their feelings for the deceased. Yellow-clad monks chanted ceaselessly with various bells, while relatives and servants burned paper money to send to the dead, lest the soul lacked the cash to bribe the guards in the underworld.
Lei Ping Chien’s daughter was only seventeen years of age. Her face in the portrait at the altar shone with youth and vivacity, but her body lay still in the wooden coffin. Lei was completely shattered; she couldn’t believe the pearl of her heart would depart the world like that, hung de...
