Chapter 105: Returning to One’s Place
The lobby of the Monster Clinic still bore the same layout as the small clinic from decades ago. The incandescent lights shone harshly, and voices drifted faintly from the corridor inside. The sounds were somewhat blurred, as if turning around corners from the inner rooms, yet they also seemed like a subtle invitation for Cheng Yao to enter.
Cheng Yao walked over.
The door to the consultation room was open, and inside there was yet another door. Light spilled out from the dark room but could not completely dispel the surrounding gloom.
Cheng Yao stepped inside.
Within the darkened room stood the latest television, facing a single-seat sofa of artistic design, clearly valuable. A doctor, clad in a white coat and wearing a medical mask, sat cross-legged on the sofa, looking somewhat out of place.
Beside the sofa was a low cabinet, also artistically styled. Upon the cabinet sat an object even more incongruous with the furniture.
It was an urn.
Cheng Yao immediately recognized it as the urn unearthed from the Longevity Garden. He had thought it contained Bai Xiao’s ashes, and he had entrusted this stranger’s remains to the doctor, begging for help to save Bai Xiao.
Now, the fog in his mind lifted, memories flooding back.
He recalled that the grave beside his grandparents’ belonged to an elderly couple, roughly their age. He vaguely remembered seeing people pay respects to them during his childhood. But later, the grave changed owners. One Qingming Festival, his father noticed this and was curious, but only exchanged a few words with family and offered incense to the new neighbors before letting it be.
Suddenly, a cry came from the television.
Cheng Yao looked up to see a live broadcast from a delivery room. Doctors and nurses were busy around a sweating pregnant woman. One doctor calmly remarked, “There’s another one inside!”
A nurse encouraged the woman, “Xiaowu, keep going, don’t relax—there’s another one inside you.”
The nurse’s voice sounded familiar to Cheng Yao. Looking closely at the nurse’s eyes on the screen, he instantly recognized her—it was Fang Simin.
The pregnant woman was drenched in sweat, speechless.
At the other end of the delivery bed, a man anxiously asked, “Mom, how can there be another one? The previous check-ups said only one, and her belly wasn’t that big…”
Fang Simin replied, “We’ll discuss that later.” Then she turned to the woman, “Xiaowu, how are you feeling? If it’s too much, we can do a C-section.”
The woman gritted her teeth, nodded, and suddenly cried out in pain, “Ah… ah! Mom, mom!”
The man hurriedly wiped her sweat, “Don’t worry! Mom’s waiting outside… I’ll call someone in!” He tried to rush out.
Fang Simin scolded, “Stop messing around! How can your mother come in now? Stay here with your wife. Your brother-in-law was much calmer than you.”
“It’s just that suddenly there’s another one…” The man sounded aggrieved but was pulled back to focus as Fang Simin comforted the woman.
The atmosphere in the delivery room remained calm despite the couple’s distress; the medical staff were exceptionally composed.
Soon, the other child in the womb was born.
The infant was no larger than a palm, thin and small, its body covered in fluid and dirt, skin wrinkled—barely human in shape. It was more an embryo than a baby.
Cheng Yao stared blankly at the fetus.
Fang Simin on the screen also gazed at it in silence.
The fetus lay motionless in the doctor’s hands.
After an examination, the doctor shook his head.
The woman and man anxiously asked, “How is the child?”
The doctor said, “It’s likely a special parasitic fetus.”
“A parasitic fetus? What does that mean?” The man looked at Fang Simin. The woman did the same.
Everyone in the delivery room turned their gaze to Fang Simin.
The camera focused on her face.
Fang Simin was simply staring at the fetus in the doctor’s hands, lost in thought.
The doctor explained, “It means it didn’t develop properly and remained in an embryonic state. It can’t really be called a child…”
The couple shuddered.
The man asked, “So… it’s dead?”
Fang Simin suddenly said, “No, it never lived.” She regained her composure and comforted them, “Don’t worry about it. Xiaowu, get some rest. Take care of your wife. That embryo is just a piece of flesh—it never developed into a child. The real baby is fine. Didn’t we just show it to you? We’ve sent it to the nursery. After all the checks and once Xiaowu rests, the nurse will bring the baby back.”
The couple looked confused but calmed down after hearing Fang Simin’s words.
The camera shifted back to the fetus.
It resembled a piece of dead flesh, placed on a tray and carried out by a nurse.
Cheng Yao stared at the television for a long while. He could see the “things” on the fetus. Those “things” were still alive. But soon, one by one, they perished.
Cheng Yao withdrew his gaze.
He bent down, picked up the urn, and without greeting the doctor, turned and left the room.
***
He passed the consultation room, the corridor, and the clinic lobby, then pushed open the glass door.
Outside was still the cement path of the cemetery.
Night had fully fallen, with stars twinkling overhead.
Cheng Yao, familiar with the way, climbed over the fence of the Longevity Garden and entered the burial area.
He made his way to the thirteenth row, standing before his grandparents’ tombstone. Tilting his head, he saw the neighboring tombstone.
A name was engraved on it—still familiar to him. The memorial photo was a black-and-white ID picture paired with birth and death dates; that was the entirety of the tombstone’s inscription.
This person had no family—only a lonely grave.
And even this solitary grave wouldn’t last much longer.
Cheng Yao knelt down, slipped his fingers under the sealing board, and without resistance, opened it. The tomb was empty. He placed the urn inside, then resealed the board.
He needed to find some tools to properly seal the tomb.
Standing upright, he recalled where some cemetery tools were kept.
But as he straightened, he saw a beam of flashlight.
A familiar face was on patrol.
Chen Jin seemed to have anticipated Cheng Yao’s presence. Without looking away, he shone the flashlight straight in this direction. Upon seeing the figure, his expression became complex—surprise, realization, worry, and resignation.
Cheng Yao did not hide.
Chen Jin paused but then approached.
Cheng Yao stood and greeted him.
“Still you, kid…” Chen Jin sighed helplessly. “Two newbies mentioned someone coming for tomb-sweeping at dinner… I thought I’d check. Sure enough, it’s you. You just… sigh…”
Chen Jin’s gaze at Cheng Yao felt like he was looking at a pitiable mental patient. His tone was similar to before, lacking the rejection or avoidance he showed when refusing calls later on.
Cheng Yao smiled faintly. “Did you come looking for me, or were you just on night duty?”
“What night duty? Old Xu retired last month, two others resigned, and two new hires came in… now it’s just me and Xiao Jin left. Thanks to you, we’ve been cycling people constantly.” Chen Jin sounded sarcastic yet casual, though his tone shifted when mentioning “Old Xu.”
Chen Jin seemed to have a need to confide: “Old Xu wasn’t supposed to retire so soon… he suddenly had a stroke, hemiplegia, and had to retire early. You know, nobody really knows about these things…”
Because of Old Xu’s situation, Chen Jin’s fear during that period dissipated. Upon seeing Cheng Yao again, he felt a strange fondness.
Cheng Yao apologized and then said, “Can I borrow your tools?”
Chen Jin looked puzzled. “What tools?”
“The ones for sealing tombs,” Cheng Yao said, glancing at the unsealed tomb.
Chen Jin was startled, then furious, but quickly suppressed his anger, pointed at Cheng Yao with a scowl.
“Follow me,” Chen Jin said coldly.
He led Cheng Yao toward the guard post, where they met Xiao Jin coming out.
Xiao Jin teased with a grin, “You’re back again, huh?” But upon seeing Chen Jin’s stern face, he quickly sobered.
Without a word, Chen Jin entered the guard post, grabbed some tools, and tossed them to Cheng Yao.
Cheng Yao caught them.
Xiao Jin asked curiously, “What’s this for?”
“Nothing. You go back to the monitoring room.” Chen Jin brusquely shooed Xiao Jin away.
He didn’t want any complications. Though the tomb’s owner was alone, without family or friends, and the grave was handled by community workers and nearing expiration, any incident in the cemetery would raise questions from other grave owners and visitors. With so many tombs and visitors in the Longevity Garden, even one or two troublesome people would be enough for their security team to handle. If someone idle posted the matter online, who knew how it would escalate.
From the novel "The Enchanted Wood."
Chen Jin endured his frustration as he watched Cheng Yao return to the thirteenth row corridor and reseal the tomb.
This time, Chen Jin sarcastically remarked, “Didn’t expect you’re pretty skilled at this. You’re quite practiced.”
In truth, Cheng Yao fumbled and struggled for a long time before managing to reseal the tomb with cement, thanks to Chen Jin’s guidance.
Cheng Yao calmly packed the tools and apologized, “Sorry for troubling you.”
“You should apologize to her.” Chen Jin pointed to the tombstone.
Cheng Yao nodded, then truly knelt and bowed to the tomb’s owner.
Chen Jin was momentarily stunned.
Cheng Yao knelt in the narrow corridor, his body curled close to the tomb, forehead nearly touching the burial chamber. He did not rise immediately.
“You… sigh, forget it. Young people shouldn’t be so impulsive. Look what you’ve stirred up.” Chen Jin sighed.
After all, the tomb’s owner was dead, buried there, with no family or friends to defend her rights. Chen Jin was no righteous bystander. Once the tomb was sealed, his verbal outburst was all that remained, and the matter would pass.
But Cheng Yao still did not move.
***
“Are you alright?” Chen Jin bent over, flashlight shining on Cheng Yao’s face.
Cheng Yao slowly straightened, looking at the photo on the tombstone.
Chen Jin hesitated, then asked, “That young woman…”
Cheng Yao’s face was expressionless. “Dead is dead…”
Chen Jin looked at Cheng Yao, then said suddenly, “But the living can remember them, worship them, honor them, and fulfill what they wanted in life. If someone like her has no family, no friends… the state helps handle their affairs. When the tomb’s term expires… we relocate the remains to a communal grave. Someone will tend it. During Qingming and the Winter Solstice, flowers will be placed. The name will be recorded. The cemetery has archives. The city archives have records. A person’s life… even the most ordinary—when they were born, what school they attended, what work they did, whether they married or had children, when they died… Usually no one looks at these or remembers… but at least…”
Chen Jin trailed off, then found the words after a pause: “At least there’s a resting place. If the deceased could know…”
He patted Cheng Yao’s shoulder. “The living are well, so the dead can rest easy.”
Cheng Yao lowered his gaze.
He didn’t linger there, and Chen Jin clearly had no intention of “keeping him.”
Chen Jin escorted Cheng Yao to the cemetery gate and opened the door for him.
After Cheng Yao walked away, Chen Jin turned and saw Xiao Jin.
Xiao Jin peeked behind Chen Jin, “Brother Chen, is he gone?”
“Gone.”
“Well then…” Xiao Jin was about to ask more.
“None of your business, don’t ask.” Chen Jin cut him off. “In our line of work, the most important thing is to mind your own business. Don’t look, don’t listen, don’t ask.”
Xiao Jin pouted, wanting to retort but unsure what to say.
“Enough. Go back to your shift.” Chen Jin said.
Xiao Jin spoke again, “Those two kids are lucky. Tonight, it’s just the two of us on night duty.”
Chen Jin retorted, “Your shift just means sleeping in a different place. Why fret so much?”
“Sleeping in the dorm is better than the monitoring room.”
The two chatted as they entered the cemetery.
Chen Jin didn’t go to sleep immediately. He lay down for a while, turned over several times, then sat up and went to the monitoring station.
Rubbing his eyes, Xiao Jin asked, “Brother Chen, what’re you doing?”
“Bring up the footage. Around dusk, those two said they saw someone…”
Under Chen Jin’s direction, Xiao Jin pulled up the footage.
They watched Cheng Yao appear on screen, walking through the thirteenth row corridor.
Xiao Jin was still half-asleep, noticing nothing.
Chen Jin’s eyes widened.
He memorized the corridor Cheng Yao entered, grabbed his flashlight, and dashed into the burial area.
Xiao Jin called out belatedly.
Chen Jin inspected the corridor Cheng Yao had entered, checking tombstones one by one.
He soon spotted a somewhat familiar face.
The photo was black and white.
The woman smiled gently, young and beautiful, evoking regret. The birth and death dates below confirmed it.
Chen Jin’s hand trembled. His flashlight illuminated the tombstone and the inscription.
Xiao Jin hurried over, asking, “Brother Chen, what did you find?” He looked at the tombstone. “What’s wrong with this grave? Did that guy come today to pick a new target? Huh? Wait… this photo looks a bit like… the woman that guy was dating before, though younger…”
Xiao Jin mumbled.
Chen Jin seemed transported back to that night months ago.
“Dead is dead…” Cheng Yao’s earlier whisper stopped Chen Jin’s memories.
“Brother Chen?” Xiao Jin tapped him.
Chen Jin sighed deeply, his expression softening with sympathy. “Alright, let’s go back to sleep.”
Xiao Jin, still dazed, was pushed out by Chen Jin.
Chen Jin glanced back at the tombstone in the night, sighing once again.