DLRAS Chapter 136 [Past]

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Chapter 136: A kiss and a goodbye.

After eight o’clock in the evening, the crowd gradually began to thin out.

Chen Wengang leaned numbly against the corridor wall. He had been standing for too long, and his feet no longer felt like his own. Apart from the meal in the morning, he had hardly eaten anything all day. His head was dizzy, and waves of dizziness washed over him, but he didn’t even feel them anymore.

He didn’t care about anything anymore.

There was a nerve in his brain that was always tense, like a taut bowstring, getting tighter and tighter and thinner and thinner. With just a little more external force, it would snap completely.

At this moment, he had a ridiculous feeling and was almost unable to remember what he was doing.

Chen Wengang gave himself a slap, not too light or too heavy.

His consciousness cleared up a bit.

Huo Niansheng had left—yes, he was a descendant of the Huo family and should have handled the funeral in the name of the Huo family, which was only right and proper. But Chen Wengang was overbearing, insisting on keeping Kang Ming in the mortuary and not allowing anyone else to touch him. Then naturally, they argued, and it became irreconcilable.

He didn’t even have time to grieve; he was mechanically arranging everything. The funeral home didn’t even have enough hearses, and the earliest they could come was tomorrow.

During this time, the people surnamed Huo kept coming and going, using various means to try to take away Huo Niansheng’s body, almost resorting to a scene of fighting in the mortuary. Even the police came several times but couldn’t intervene. They could only mediate, first advising Chen Wengang that this was ultimately someone else’s family affair, but finding him unreasonable and stubborn, they started advising the Huo family that they couldn’t help physically and should let relatives and friends handle it themselves.

Chen Wengang was almost unable to remember how many people he had dealt with.

Amanda and Lawyer Zhu had actually helped to block most of the media, or things would have been even more chaotic. His consciousness was confused, only remembering that after Huo Jingsheng had left in annoyance, Huo Zhenfei’s wife, Fang Qin, had been pushed in once. She had not put on any makeup; her eyes were swollen like goldfish eyes. But she only said a few symbolic words, then burst into tears again, and was then helped away by Huo Yuxiang, who was already a big boy.

For her, perhaps the only silver lining in the misfortune was that her son was unharmed and her family had not completely fallen apart.

After that, there were some unfamiliar faces, chattering incessantly, annoying to no end.

When Amanda came back, it was around the time when Second Uncle Huo came over—he dyed his hair, looking very young with the shiny black dye, but his eyelids were still drooping, covering half of his black eyeballs, making it seem like he couldn’t muster up any energy no matter what.

He wore a black suit with a white ribbon on his arm, claiming he had rushed back from Hawaii overnight. He put on the demeanor of an elder, explaining with emotion and reasoning and comforting Chen Wengang that this was the time of crisis for the Huo family, and they couldn’t afford to let outsiders laugh at them.

It would be better for the Huo family to handle the funeral on a grand scale. When the funeral was held, they would invite him to receive guests and condolences together.

Amanda quietly retreated to the side, not showing any presence at all, listening to him rambling on kindly.

Chen Wengang quietly watched him for a while and asked, “Why are you laughing?”

Second Uncle Huo widened his eyes, and the skin on his neck sagged.

He said, “What? I’m not.”

Chen Wengang stared at his face. “You’re laughing.”

Second Uncle Huo’s facial muscles tightened slightly.

Chen Wengang continued, “Because it’s not you who died, are you happy?”

There was no expression on his face, only a hint of fierceness in his eyes, and the scars on his half-face, corroded like never before, looked more ferocious than ever.

The overhead light was cold and rigid, casting heavy shadows and accentuating every ugly detail, making him look like a ghost. Or rather, he looked more like a walking corpse, half-rotted, with only the remaining half looking human, talking to everyone.

Chen Wengang said, “When it’s Second Uncle’s turn to handle the funeral, let me know, and I’ll come to pay my respects. I wish Second Uncle eternal glory and enlightenment for future generations.”

Amanda lifted her eyelids and saw Second Uncle Huo leaning on a cane, tremblingly clutching his chest.

When the clock pointed to one in the morning, everyone was finally gone, and there were only a few people left in the mortuary.

At the end of the corridor, it was pitch black.

The air here was always cold, and no one knew where the wind came from, as if a chilly breeze passed by, drilling straight into the back of people’s necks. Chen Wengang couldn’t hold on any longer; he sat exhausted on the ground, leaning against the wall. The wall was cold, and Chen Wengang shivered.

Kang Ming still maintained his standing posture, casually glancing back whenever someone passed by.

He said to Chen Wengang, “You go sleep in the car for a while.”

Chen Wengang said, “You should go instead. We’ll rely on you to drive and navigate tomorrow.”

Halley lay on the side, resting its big head on its owner’s leg. Chen Wengang slowly stroked its head, and it closed its eyes and fell asleep.

But its ears twitched occasionally, seemingly still alert, ready to jump up at any sound.

Only then did Chen Wengang feel pain, as if his liver and heart were being dug out.

He felt colder and colder, with only a small, warm spot where Halley was lying. Apart from that, his whole body was freezing.

Chen Wengang tried to close his eyes, but his head throbbed painfully, and something seemed to be tearing at his chest.

Subconsciously, he put his hand on his waist pouch, which he had bought from a stall at the hospital entrance. He fumbled for the zipper with his fingertips, and inside, something heavy was hanging—it was a second-hand dictionary, also bought hastily.

Inside was Huo Niansheng’s last writing.

In a daze, his mind was filled with Huo Niansheng’s letter. At this moment, the letter became his only anchor and his lifeline. Chen Wengang only managed to read it once, afraid to read it again, but the black ink swirled before his eyes.

I never knew if you truly loved me.
It’s a pity; maybe I’ll never get to know in this lifetime.
I’ve left you enough to live on. Be stronger in the future and live well.

Be strong, live well…

Strong…

Live…

Loved me…

Truly…

Love…

In the endless darkness, Chen Wengang suddenly woke up, his eyelids incredibly sore.

He glanced at his phone; it was four thirty in the morning.

As he moved, Halley also woke up. It was said that four o’clock in the morning was when yin energy was strongest and people were at their weakest and most tired. Chen Wengang leaned against the wall and slowly stood up. He remembered that the hearse would arrive at the funeral home before six o’clock.

The hearse…

Chen Wengang leaned against the wall, staring blankly at the wall, as if his gaze could penetrate it and see inside.

Behind the wall lay bodies devoid of vital signs, and his heart was filled with unspeakable pain. Yet he didn’t feel afraid because Huo Niansheng was also in there. However, thinking of Huo Niansheng, a sharp pain stabbed at Chen Wengang’s chest again, making even breathing difficult.

It was as if he were bearing an unbearable weight, his vertebrae being crushed one by one, forcing him to slowly arch his body.

The person who had left alive was now frozen like an object, trapped in the compartments of the freezer.

Because there were no signs of life, and only life had dignity, the body was meaningless.

He would never see the living person again.

He had lost him completely.

Chen Wengang leaned his head against the wall, drowning in despair like a tidal wave.

He was having an extremely long nightmare, and he couldn’t wake up from it no matter what.

At five thirty, Kang Ming, who had slept for a while, returned from the parking lot, and Amanda received a call. They went to find the staff.

The body was placed in the coffin, and the hearse was entirely black, adorned with white flowers at the front and a lily in the center.

Huo Niansheng’s memorial hall was set up at the funeral home, with a three-day wake for relatives and friends to pay their respects and bid farewell.

The mourning hall was draped in dark curtains, with banners hung up, white paper with black letters, engraved with the name of the deceased.

The coffin was placed in the middle of the room, with Huo Niansheng’s eyes closed, his body reprocessed by the embalmer, and his face peaceful as if he were sleeping. He had changed into clean clothes, brought by Amanda from home, and Chen Wengang had personally dressed him.

When he did all this, Amanda seemed afraid that he couldn’t hold on, but he just silently finished it all.

According to folk beliefs, when dressing the deceased in burial clothes, tears should not be allowed to fall on them. Otherwise, it is said that the departed soul will wander in limbo and cannot pass on to the afterlife. Chen Wengang’s eyes were dry; he seemed like a puppet manipulated by invisible strings, in a state of spiritual and physical separation—

His soul had been detached, yet his body continued to function.

His mind was tormented, but his willpower, fueled by pain, still carried him through his tasks.

On the altar was a portrait of the deceased, a colored photograph with handsome features, high cheekbones, and deep-set eyes.

Chen Wengang sat in a seat below, locking eyes with the portrait. Two flirtatious peach-blossom eyes seemed to roam about, neither smiling nor frowning, expressing both joy and anger.

Huo Niansheng’s gaze seemed to look at him, yet not at him.

Chen Wengang lost track of time.

In fact, they hadn’t planned to hold the wake for the full three days. To prevent any further complications from the Huo family and to avoid media entanglements, Lawyer Zhu threw out a smokescreen, while Amanda quietly arranged for the cremation to take place after two days.

On either side of the altar, there were wreaths and floral arrangements. Chen Wengang stood up and walked over slowly, inspecting the signatures on the condolence wreaths one by one.

There weren’t many people coming to pay their respects, although it wasn’t officially announced, those who wanted to know would always find out.

Despite Huo Niansheng having many friends in the past, seeing so few of them now revealed that few were truly close.

Among the sparse floral arrangements, Chen Wengang noticed the name of Li Hongqiong. He recalled that she was the most rumored person to be romantically involved with Huo Niansheng. She came wearing sunglasses, placed her wreath down, and said to Chen Wengang, “My condolences.”

There was also Huo Meijie, who as Huo Niansheng’s aunt, did not show up in person but instead had her wreath sent to the funeral home.

Zheng Baoqiu and Zheng Maoxun specifically came, both covering themselves up tightly with sunglasses and hats, keeping a low profile. Zheng Maoxun kept his head down, rubbing his nose, standing in a corner of the memorial hall, hardly saying anything.

Chen Wengang’s eyes were bloodshot; he hadn’t rested in a long time, looking worn out. When Zheng Baoqiu saw him, she burst into tears.

She embraced Chen Wengang, standing in the memorial hall, crying bitterly.

Chen Wengang raised his hand, mechanically patting her head.

The day before the cremation, Chen Wengang had lost track of how long he had gone without sleep. Amanda and others took turns trying to persuade him. Later, Yu Shanding also came and advised him. But no matter what, he couldn’t sleep soundly; he would doze off for a while, then wake up again, hardly leaving the memorial hall.

He shouldn’t consider the funeral home unfamiliar; although memories were now blurred, when he was nine years old, he had spent a night guarding his father’s body here. He had cried then. Adults brought him in, telling him to stay here, and his father’s spirit would come back to see him.

However, opinions were divided. One person angrily said, why bring such a young child here? Don’t let him see. Someone hesitated, while another sighed, saying let him guard for just one night, as he was the only son, he would get to see his father for the last time.

Chen Wengang pieced together three chairs, lying down on them, his arm covering his face, lost in thought.

It was pitch black outside; the memorial hall was lit up, as bright as day. The air was filled with the scent of incense burning, and the atmosphere was solemn and melancholic.

In the adjacent hall, people had been crying from morning until night. Some were sorrowful, and some wailed loudly. He even heard someone singing in a delicate voice with a poignant and melodious tone. “By the ancient road outside the pavilion, where the green grass reaches the sky; a pot of wine, half emptied of joy; tonight, don’t dream of cold; ask you, when will you return, and when you return, don’t hesitate…” He listened, listened, until finally, all the voices ceased at this time.

Chen Wengang sat up, walking over to the coffin, staring for a long time.

For the past two days, he has been gazing at the cold and unfamiliar Huo Niansheng. They had been together in the same room, and sometimes Chen Wengang felt that perhaps these two days would never end.

They would continue to cycle endlessly in his remaining life.

After a long time, he reached into the pocket on Huo Niansheng’s chest, feeling out a red talisman.

It was something Chen Wengang had put in when he changed his clothes, intending for Huo Niansheng to take it with him.

But suddenly, he couldn’t bear to part with it. Chen Wengang felt as if his heart was burning under the scorching sun. He clutched the talisman tightly in his hand, his fingers curling up, then slowly loosening. He extended his arm to touch the face he had once known so well.

With a soft, low voice, Chen Wengang negotiated with him, “Can I give it to you the next time we meet?”

Around two or three in the morning, he dozed off again for a while. He didn’t know which nap he woke up from, but Chen Wengang suddenly heard a dog barking.

He opened his eyes and sat up abruptly, seeing a stranger struggling on the ground, wrestling with Halley.

The camera and lens fell to the ground. It turned out that a journalist had sneaked in and was discovered by Halley, the guard dog. Halley, not trained in vain, had the upper hand, viciously pinning the person to the ground, baring its sharp teeth right above the journalist’s neck.

The journalist, half scared to death, shouted, “Help! Help! Control the dog!”

Chen Wengang walked over, calling Halley to stop, but didn’t immediately let it loose.

He coldly looked down at the journalist, then shifted his gaze to the items on the ground.

Chen Wengang picked up the camera, which was very compact. He pressed a few buttons and accessed what was stored on the memory card. There were not only photos but also videos. He pressed play, and the video footage started playing. He saw himself with his back to the camera, leaning over the coffin:

“If it weren’t for me, just think how carefree your life would be. You wouldn’t need to go to the hospital all year round, bathe me, change my bandages, cook for me, figure out what I like to eat, observe whether I’m happy or not, constantly worry, and tire yourself out…

“The slightest bit of trouble, and you make it into a big deal. When I get angry, instead of getting mad at me, you coax me with a smile. How is that fair? I have to be constantly vigilant, fearing that one day I might do something drastic… It’s not that I want to do something drastic; it’s that you can’t handle it. You should have turned the corner long ago. Actually, you have no responsibility towards me… The seven years you’ve spent on me, I feel, are all wasted for you…

“Could you look at me again?” Chen Wengang lowered his head, sobbing, “Just look at me one more time…”

Chen Wengang looked indifferently at what was behind him. From the angle of the shot, the camera had been hidden in a blue flower.

He opened the back cover, examined it for a moment, and then pulled out the memory card, raising it high in his left hand.

The journalist looked at him in terror, raising his hands to cover his head. Chen Wengang didn’t smash it but simply let go.

The camera fell heavily to the ground; its body shattered into pieces. He coldly lifted his foot, the heel crushing its parts even more.

The journalist, knowing he was in the wrong, instead tried to argue his way out: “This is my personal property!” he shouted. “I left the camera at the funeral home and wanted to come back for it. Isn’t that allowed? You’ve let the dog attack me and destroy my property; that’s illegal!”

Chen Wengang said, “Is it? Send me the court summons, dead or alive, and I’ll compensate you.”

He looked down at the journalist from a high vantage point, while Halley emitted an even more terrifying low growl.

Its drool dripped onto the journalist’s neck, as if it could snap his windpipe with one bite. The journalist, unable to keep up his facade, softened his tone, pleading with Chen Wengang to call off the dog. He said he just wanted to grab a story; it was a professional necessity; there was nothing wrong with it; and he promised not to do it again.

After a long time, Chen Wengang suddenly waved his hand, and Halley finally let go.

The journalist scrambled to his feet, revealing that he was quite short and unremarkable in appearance.

He stumbled to the door, tripping over the threshold, falling face-first into the mud, then quickly got up and disappeared from sight.

Chen Wengang thought about breaking the memory card but stopped himself. He put the card back in his pocket.

Then Chen Wengang sat back down, waiting quietly.

He stared at the clock on the wall, watching as the second hand moved tick by tick, while the minute hand slowly progressed. He watched as the hour hand moved slowly toward five o’clock.

The funeral home was located in the suburbs, and faint crowings of roosters could be heard from somewhere.

At six o’clock, the sky began to lighten.

At seven o’clock, the staff started their shift.

People in work uniforms began to move around outside.

Amanda arrived, Lawyer Zhu arrived, and Kang Ming and Yu Shanding also arrived at the memorial hall, along with two of Huo Niansheng’s trusted subordinates from before. Only a few of them secretly bid their final farewells to the deceased. The atmosphere was solemn, and everyone bowed respectfully in turn.

The manager of the funeral home led people in, being very courteous, and the staff skillfully sealed the coffin, preparing to send it to the crematorium.

The lid of the coffin slowly closed, and only then did Chen Wengang seem to suddenly awaken from his daze.

This time, it was really time to go.

His beloved.

Amanda came over to support him, and Chen Wengang swayed a bit, but he shook his head and pushed her hand away.

Four strong young men lifted the coffin onto the hearse, but in reality, they didn’t have to drive very far as the crematorium was right next to the funeral home.

Chen Wengang got on the car, and when the coffin was taken off, he followed it down, with Halley by his side all the way until someone stopped him.

The person pointed to the wall; according to regulations, family members were not allowed to observe the cremation.

Amanda sighed, not knowing how many times she had done so. She stepped forward, grabbing Chen Wengang’s arm. Chen Wengang stared blankly at her, his eyes clearly empty and lost. She stepped forward to help explain, and although he may not have understood anything, he just pleaded with his eyes.

After some negotiation, Chen Wengang was allowed to stay until the moment the coffin was placed in the cremator.

The staff were round-faced and simple-looking. They coordinated with their colleagues and pushed the iron bed inside. The body was engulfed, and the opening of the furnace wasn’t large, reminding Chen Wengang of the mortuary freezer.

He suddenly grabbed the staff member’s hand with extraordinary force, causing the person’s arm to turn blue and red.

Lawyer Zhu and others quickly stepped forward to persuade him. The staff members were patient, not yet angry, but rather helpless. They also consoled him, saying that’s why it’s regulated that family members can’t watch this process. After all, few people can emotionally handle it.

Upon hearing this, Chen Wengang calmed down. He gradually released his grip, his fingers trembling violently.

Lawyer Zhu immediately supported him from behind.

The iron door closed tightly, and there was silence in the waiting room.

After fifty minutes, the iron door suddenly opened, and hot air rushed in, followed by the bed being pushed out, carrying a rectangular metal basin. Inside the basin weren’t just ashes; there were also many bone fragments—after all, a person couldn’t be completely burned, and after cremation, large bones would remain. In places unseen, the staff had already crushed them, scattering the white bone fragments among the ashes.

From birth to death, all that remained were these things.

Lawyer Zhu glanced at Chen Wengang, and neither of them moved.

After a long time, Chen Wengang raised his hand. He didn’t say a word, just picked up a metal clip and started placing the bone fragments into the urn.

Bones, and then ashes. As he held the urn, he could even feel the warmth in his hands.

This was the last warmth left to him by Huo Niansheng.

After returning home, Chen Wengang finally slept, almost forced to do so. Amanda called the family doctor, who gave him a sedative injection.

It was an extremely long sleep; he slept almost a whole day and night.

His body needed urgent rest, but the quality of the sleep wasn’t good. He saw many strange things in his dreams, but he didn’t see Huo Niansheng.

Chen Wengang also knew that he couldn’t collapse now—there was still a funeral to be held, various relationships to be managed, and all sorts of troubles from the Huo family to deal with. With Huo Niansheng gone, he couldn’t hide behind anyone anymore.

In accordance with Amanda’s arrangements, the entire funeral process was to be conducted according to Western customs, simple and quiet.

She had already arranged with the church. However, Yu Shanding added that incense and candles should be lit, and offerings should be made. Both could be done at home. It’s better to believe there’s something than nothing. Just in case, right?

Just in case?

According to folk beliefs, on the seventh day after death, the soul of the deceased would return home.

Family members should prepare a meal by hand before the soul returns and then avoid it, not showing themselves.

Even if you really can’t sleep, it’s best to hide under the covers so that the deceased doesn’t see any worries and gets trapped, unable to leave.

Chen Wengang got up very early. He stayed in the kitchen all day, starting to scale and gut fish in the morning, slowly removing their internal organs.

He kept his phone beside him, searching for ingredients while preparing. His efficiency in cutting meat and selecting vegetables was terribly low, but he was focused and extremely careful, as if it were the most important thing in the world.

After everything was prepared, with time still early, he cooked something for Halley first and fed it early.

Then he sat on the sofa with no appetite at all, not wanting to eat anything. By evening, he was busy again.

The fish were thrown into the hot oil, sizzling, with white smoke rising. Chen Wengang took a step back as hot oil splattered on his wrist.

He shook his hand and continued with soy sauce chicken, stewed duck, salt and pepper shrimp…

Chen Wengang was busy, and as it approached midnight, he arranged all the dishes on the table, along with rice, pastries, fruits, and drinks, each placed in its proper position. Then he retreated to the bedroom, only then realizing he was still wearing an apron.

He untied it, throwing it aside casually, suddenly feeling a sigh of relief, his body leaning against the wall.

Chen Wengang covered his face with his hands.

It struck twelve, and Chen Wengang leaned against the wall, pressing his forehead against the door panel, unable to hear any sound outside.

He turned his face, slowly walked to the bedside, and sat down. He saw a photo frame on the bedside table.

It was a picture of Huo Niansheng and him—a few years after the disfigurement, Chen Wengang actually hadn’t taken any more photos. But in the past two years, he seemed to have slowly let go. Anyway, Huo Niansheng didn’t mind, so he took them. Chen Wengang could cooperate.

In the frame, Chen Wengang sat on the sofa, Huo Niansheng leaning against the backrest, smiling gently at the camera.

Chen Wengang touched his face with his fingers.

He suddenly stood up, disregarding everything, and opened the bedroom door with a bang. The window in the living room wasn’t closed, causing air circulation, and the wind rushed in, knocking something over. Halley, who had been asleep, immediately ran to check.

Chen Wengang stood alone in the middle of the living room. He looked around, but there was nothing—only the night wind blowing against him.

He stood motionless for a long time before finally raising his head as if waking up from a dream. Somehow, it was almost two o’clock.

Chen Wengang pulled out a chair and sat down, facing the table filled with dishes.

The cup was already filled with wine. He picked it up, poured it onto the ground, then poured another glass and drank it in one gulp.

Chen Wengang picked up his chopsticks, picked up a shrimp, and put it in his mouth. The food had cooled down, with no warmth left. The salt and pepper were a bit salty, the fish was slightly over-fried, and the chicken had a faint smell, but overall, if not aiming for perfection, it was still palatable.

Chen Wengang held the bowl and kept feeding himself spoonful after spoonful. He ate very politely, very restrained, but he ate for a long time, never stopping. In the end, he finished all the dishes on the table.

Halley sniffed his legs under the table, and Chen Wengang patted it, “These flavors are too strong for you. Go to sleep.”

He left the empty plates and bowls on the table, got up, washed, and then returned to the bedroom.

Chen Wengang went to the bedside and picked up the photo frame, and Huo Niansheng still looked at him gently.

He gently lowered his head and kissed Huo Niansheng’s face, giving him a farewell kiss.

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