Rather than a costume, he wore an extravagant golden-yellow Buddhist monk's robe. As he walks to the center of the stage, he announces, “I will now perform the blessing that will allow him to cross safely!” » I look at my mother and father in confusion: “What is happening? My father interrupts me before I can continue asking questions: "It's a Chinese tradition, you will also do this when your mother and I die, so you better find someone good." I looked at the director, and all I see is him walking back and forth, occasionally hitting a mini gong while singing something I can't understand. He stops abruptly and, in a demanding tone, says: “Sons of the deceased, come to the front and begin burning the offerings!” First of all, the bridge to his new home! » My father and uncle walked to the front of the room, next to the gift table. As instructed, my uncle grabbed a paper bridge from the table and set it on fire using his lighter. Once it was ignited, he threw it into the fireplace. My father also grabbed a paper object, the miniature mansion, and lit it. Both had continued this process for some time.