Even a ten-year-old me knows this superstitious saying: a dead person cannot ascend to heaven after his coffin falls to the ground. This time the situation exploded. Mr. Wu slumped in front of the coffin and turned into a wooden chicken. The wind had blown away all the paper money. My uncle and a few brave ones went up to check the situation, and heard them scream like they were electrocuted. Their feet seemed to be nailed to the wood. The fragments of scorched thunder rumbled across the sky. A lightning bolt stretched out to the horizon and cracked behind my uncle. I saw my uncle bend down and take out a little body wrapped in white cloth from the coffin. That was little Liu Xia...