Chapter 104: Memory and Reality

Cheng Yao arrived at Longevity Garden once again.

This time, he was not accompanied by Bai Xiao, nor did he bring a bouquet.

He walked past rows of tombstones, moving slowly, his legs feeling as heavy as if they were weighted with thousands of pounds. He paused at the aisle of the thirteenth row, where his grandparents’ graves were located, but after a moment of hesitation, he continued walking forward.

Bai Xiao’s funeral had been a rushed affair. He had been utterly devastated, and his parents-in-law were not much better. Every detail was arranged by the staff at the funeral parlor, leading to inevitable disputes as things were decided without his consent. He had even gotten into a heated argument with an employee over the choice of a single versus a double plot, insisting on purchasing a new grave for Bai Xiao. This had deeply concerned both his own parents and his parents-in-law. In the end, remembering Bai Xiao’s last wishes, he placed her wedding ring into her urn and his own into the adjacent empty plot, all under the watchful eyes of the four elders.

Sealing those two graves felt like sealing away that relationship, those memories, and beginning a new life.

Everyone had thought so.

The truth, however, was that his heart had been left behind in that grave.

And his memories were things he had chosen to forget.

If he could just forget the past, he could pretend to live happily.

If only he could forget those things…

If only he had never met Bai Xiao…

Cheng Yao entered the single-row aisle. Without needing to look, he stood still at the familiar spot.

The tombstone was embedded with a black-and-white photograph of Bai Xiao, beneath which were carved her name, birth date, and the date of her passing. The other half of the stone was left blank as a reserved space. At the very bottom was the inscription: "Husband, Cheng Yao."

Beneath the tombstone lay the two tightly sealed graves—intact, and never opened since they were closed.

Cheng Yao sank into his memories.

His parents-in-law had barely managed to emerge from the grief of losing their daughter when they began to worry about him, their son-in-law. By the time they were calm enough to plan their own final arrangements, Longevity Garden no longer had suitable plots available. In fact, Bai Xiao’s plot had been a resale from someone else.

His mother-in-law told him that they had spent a long time visiting other cemeteries, picking and choosing, only to end up buying a double plot at Crane Cemetery. They had wanted to move Bai Xiao to be near them, but there was never a suitable vacancy, and they were afraid that mentioning the relocation would only trigger his trauma.

Over the following decades, they had often thought about buying a new cemetery plot. They had even consulted with Cheng Yao’s parents about buying a plot together so it would be easier to visit. Cheng Yao’s parents, having secretly bought their own plots in advance, regretted not discussing it sooner. They hadn't expected that Cheng Yao would keep Bai Xiao in his heart all those years, never remarrying, and spending decades caring for and honoring her parents as if they were his own.

Later, as cemetery prices soared, the four elders felt such expenses were unnecessary and didn't want to burden Cheng Yao. The plots they had already purchased had increased in value, yet selling them for a profit seemed pointless, and keeping them meant paying management fees. Caught in this hesitation, they grew old, and the subject was never raised again.

After death, dust returns to dust and earth to earth; what meaning is there in a small space for ashes and a standardized slab of stone?

Those involved are always the easiest to see through it.

And yet, those involved are also the hardest to let go.

Cheng Yao slowly knelt before Bai Xiao’s grave.

He extended his left hand, the ring finger bare, though a faint ring indentation remained from the brief time he had worn it.

Strange, youthful fingers; a strange yet familiar ring mark…

Cheng Yao carefully touched Bai Xiao’s memorial portrait.

His fingertips met only cold, hard material, not the warm, soft skin of a person.

Cheng Yao’s hand fell.

He lowered his head and stroked the surface of Bai Xiao’s grave.

His gaze seemed to penetrate the stone, seeing what lay inside the grave: Bai Xiao’s urn… the wedding ring within the urn… and…

Tears fell to the ground, blurring into the stone before quickly evaporating.

New tears fell, and evaporated.

Over and over again…

…

In the dark television room, the small monitor had been replaced by a large screen.

On the screen, Bai Xiao was sitting in the living room, sorting vegetables.

The camera was angled toward her, and on the low cabinet beside her sat the wedding photo of Cheng Yao and Bai Xiao.

Bai Xiao’s hands paused in mid-air, and the vegetable leaves she held dropped.

She clasped her hands together, her fingers tightening unconsciously, leaving a nail mark on the hard surface of a diamond. The nails were black, appearing like hardened metal, yet marked with the dry, vertical ridges typical of fingernails.

The blackness of the nails spread to her fingers, then crept upward, shifting from a metallic, glossy black to a ghastly purplish-black, then eventually to a bruised, sickly cyan. The grain of her skin was clearly visible, and beneath it, one could see black, pitch-dark veins. A viscous liquid began to seep from her pores.

Furthermore, beneath the grotesque skin, something was wriggling, boring through the festering flesh to reveal strange, dark-red-patterned insects that resembled maggots.

The doctor’s ten fingernails emitted a chorus of sounds—some weeping in terror, others shrieking with manic laughter.

The strange insects crawled onto Bai Xiao’s face. The close-up shot followed, focusing on her features.

Behind Bai Xiao, the wedding photo was blurred. Her face looked like melting butter; layers of cyan-black soft tissue sloughed off, revealing a pair of wide-staring eyes.

The doctor’s deep blue eyes met those horrific, wide-open eyes.

He suddenly raised his hand and snapped his fingers, cutting the feed on the television.

The ten fingernails made sounds of disappointment, hissing at the image of Cheng Yao that appeared on the screen.

In the footage, Cheng Yao was still kneeling before Bai Xiao’s grave.

He seemed to have wept his heart dry and lost his soul, remaining motionless before the tomb.

Footsteps approached from off-screen.

A young man in a security uniform walked over hesitantly, asking with concern, "Hey, brother, are you alright?"

Cheng Yao’s body stirred, and he slowly turned his head.

"Look… my condolences. Would you like some water? Why not come sit in our breakroom?" the young guard offered kindly, making no effort to hide his sympathy.

Cheng Yao shook his head and pulled himself up from the ground.

His body swayed.

The guard reached out to steady him. "You really should come sit in our breakroom. We have water, drinks, and snacks. You can rest for a while. Did you drive here?"

Cheng Yao still shook his head, his voice raspy. "No, thank you. I’m fine."

The guard didn't press him.

Cheng Yao began to walk away.

The guard followed three or four paces behind, neither approaching nor falling too far back. He walked him all the way to the gate, watched Cheng Yao continue out, and only then scratched his head and turned back toward the cemetery.

Another young guard emerged from the gatehouse and asked, "What’s up with that guy?"

"Must be too heartbroken."

"Sigh… well, it is that kind of place…" the young guard at the gatehouse sighed with feigned profundity.

The camera stayed on Cheng Yao’s rhythmic gait, while the audio was replaced by the increasingly distant conversation of the two guards.

Cheng Yao’s expression was one of numbness; it was as if he hadn't heard the guards’ dialogue, or perhaps he had heard it all but was simply incapable of reacting.

The ten fingernails were screaming loudly—their laughter, weeping, shrieking, and cursing sounding like a debate between people of different voices and personalities.

These sounds suddenly stopped.

The doctor narrowed his deep blue eyes. He didn't snap his fingers this time; instead, he left the television playing and stood up.

A door had appeared in the corner of the television room, leading to a studio for video editing.

The doctor walked inside.

The television continued to broadcast the footage of Cheng Yao walking.

…

Cheng Yao moved like a walking corpse, simply walking, heading in one direction.

The voices of the young guards had vanished.

There were no pedestrians on the road, no vehicles, no chirping of insects or birds, not even the sound of the wind.

The sky was cloudless, a fine day following the typhoon.

The ground was still covered in puddles left by the storm, reflecting the orange-red sunset.

The old phone in his pocket made a sound, one chime after another, persistently rousing Cheng Yao.

Cheng Yao stopped and took out his phone.

Unlocking it took some time; the screen lagged, then popped up the message interface.

The top notification, with a number wrapped in a red dot, was his high school class group.

Cheng Yao only caught the latest message: [My daughter just took us skiing.]

Below that was the chat history with Tong Bin.

Tong Bin had sent several new messages. After a string of them, he seemed to have finished what he wanted to say, and the phone finally stopped its chattering:

[Boss Le introduced me to several people for blind dates.]

[I really want to thank him. And thank you, too.]

[It’s just… I’m embarrassed to say… after meeting those people, I felt it wasn't a good fit…]

[I’ve already told Boss Le, but I still want to treat him to a meal to thank him in person and apologize for the trouble.]

[Will you come along?]

[I have one more thing to tell you.]

[[Hehe]]

[[Blush]]

Cheng Yao had just finished reading these when Tong Bin sent another flurry of messages:

[I confessed to that one person from before.]

[The girls Boss Le introduced were all very nice, and the conversations were pleasant, but suddenly I just thought of her.]

[I asked Gao Yan how he pursued Kong Yajie.]

[Gao Yan is Kong Yajie’s husband.]

[After Kong Yajie got back from her honeymoon, she and her husband treated her dorm mates to dinner and invited me too, and they brought us gifts.]

[Kong Yajie heard about it and pressed me for details, so I told her.]

[She gave me advice, which I wrote down, but I couldn't help myself.]

[That night, I asked her out.]

[She was coming back from a business trip, so I went to pick her up at the airport.]

[I told her straight out that I’d been on several blind dates recently.]

[I was planning to say I’d met many people but realized I was happiest with her, and that I liked her.]

[Before I could even say it, she asked why I was picking her up if I’d been on all those dates.]

[My heart went cold, and I forgot all my confession lines.]

[She grabbed her luggage and started walking away.]

[I grabbed her, but I was so flustered I couldn't speak.]

[I saw her eyes turn red, like she was about to cry.]

[My mind went blank, and I just kept apologizing.]

[We were both such idiots. A security guard at the airport thought I was bothering her and tried to kick me out, but she explained to him that I was her friend. Without thinking, I just shouted, "I like you! I want to be your boyfriend first, then your husband!"]

The messages stopped there.

Cheng Yao stood by the roadside, reading Tong Bin’s content patiently, waiting for the next update.

The phone rang, but it wasn't a new message from Tong Bin.

Boss Le was calling.

Cheng Yao picked up.

"Xiao Cheng, Tong Bin says he wants to treat me to dinner and invited you too. Did you get his message?" Boss Le asked.

"Yes, I just got it," Cheng Yao replied, his voice still dry.

Boss Le paused. "About that… I still can’t reach the doctor." He sounded anxious. "Did something happen to him? Was that patient from last time looking for trouble? Did the doctor run off?"

Cheng Yao answered, "He didn't run off. You should be able to contact him in a little while."

"Oh, I see…" Boss Le paused again, his tone shifting. "Hey, by the way, Uncle Zhang had his cast removed yesterday. He asked when you’d be free so he could return the wheelchair."

Cheng Yao replied, "There’s no rush for that."

This time, it was Cheng Yao who paused.

He looked at the sun sinking below the horizon. "Wait until… Cheng Yao comes back, then go get it."

Boss Le was startled. "Ah, is that so? He’s coming back? …Is it because of what happened last time?" he asked hesitantly. "Is it alright? Maybe you should go out of town to avoid the trouble. I think the doctor just left to avoid the heat. Sigh, the way people harass doctors these days…"

Cheng Yao gave a short, sharp laugh. "Is there anything else?"

"Ah, no, that’s all. As long as you’re okay," Boss Le said, sounding relieved. "See you then."

Cheng Yao didn't respond, only saying, "Goodbye."

Boss Le didn't hang up immediately, as if he still wanted to say something.

But Cheng Yao hung up as soon as he finished speaking.

Once the call ended, Cheng Yao saw the new messages from Tong Bin:

[Anyway, I confessed.]

[And she agreed.]

[[Hehe]]

[I told Kong Yajie the good news, too. She wants me to bring her out so she can meet her.]

[I just talked to her, and I think I want to wait a bit.]

[You come along when we do.]

[Just the three of us for dinner this time.]

Tong Bin then sent a restaurant address.

This time, it wasn't a small shop for skewers and beer, but a proper restaurant where he intended to treat him and Boss Le.

Cheng Yao slowly typed on his phone:

[Congratulations.]

He clicked send, exited the interface, and saw the high school group chat notifications climbing by the hundreds—he had no idea why they were so lively.

He tapped to exit again, but the old phone flickered and opened the chat history with Liu Yu below.

He hadn't attended Liu Yu’s wedding, but Liu Yu had still sent him some photos and thanked him repeatedly, expressing regret that he couldn't reach the doctor at the Monster Clinic to thank him as well.

He had already seen these messages earlier and had replied perfunctorily.

He didn't feel he would ever be close to Liu Yu, and Liu Yu seemed to view him merely as a distant benefactor.

Cheng Yao exited the chat and, with a slip of his finger, saw even older messages further down.

Lu Meimei had changed her profile picture to a photo of two cats—one big, one small.

Cheng Yao tapped on Lu Meimei’s profile.

There were many photos in her space: she and her boyfriend planning their wedding; the kitten had grown quite a bit, no longer looking like a tiny baby; she had moved into a new home, invited friends over, and held a housewarming party; she had cremated Mao Mao and placed it in a beautiful little urn…

The urn for Mao Mao sat on the TV cabinet in her new home.

There were two photos: one of the kitten, still a baby, gently touching the urn with its nose; another in the new home, with the now-grown cat curled up beside the urn, as if sleeping against Mao Mao.

Cheng Yao finished browsing the photos and returned to the latest one Lu Meimei had posted.

She was holding the kitten in one arm, taking a selfie with the other, her head resting on her boyfriend’s shoulder. Her boyfriend was holding a box of wedding candies. In the corner of the photo, one could see Mao Mao’s urn, and the candy box was printed with two small figures and two small cats.

Cheng Yao stared at the photo for a long time.

He exited the interface, tapping several times, about to impatiently press the power button to tuck the phone away, but his gaze swept over the high school group chat, where the numbers were still jumping.

[@Jiang Yifan, have you contacted Cheng Yao yet? You must make sure he comes.]

The phone screen froze for a second.

Then, new content switched in:

[Has it been over thirty years? Is he doing alright? Has he remarried?]

…

The doctor appeared before the television, watching the changes gradually manifesting on Cheng Yao’s face in the footage. His mask stretched slightly, and a smile spilled out from beneath it.

The ten fingernails made a cacophony of noise, which was soon drowned out by the doctor’s loud laughter.

…

Cheng Yao put his phone away.

He looked up; the sunset had given way to moonlight.

Under the moonlight, by the edge of the cemetery, a lonely little building cast a harsh white light onto the ground.

Above the bright glass doors, a flickering neon sign hummed.

The characters for "Monster Clinic" pulsed every now and then, emitting a faint, electric "zizzing" sound.