The Stone Carver

My grandfather was a stonemason, or more precisely, a gravestone carver. The craft was traditionally passed down from father to son, never to daughters. But years ago, my grandfather broke one of the trade’s taboos. None of the men in the family survived, and he fell gravely ill. After that, he gave up the trade and stayed home raising ducks and chickens. Then someone asked him to carve a tomb-guarding stele. With no other choice, my grandfather chose me, his granddaughter, as his successor. On my first day learning to carve gravestones, I encountered something strange...