Chapter Five: The Cemetery at Night

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In the darkness, Chen Jin walked slowly along the perimeter of Longevity Park, his flashlight scanning up and down the iron wire fence, not missing a single inch. Beside him was another beam of light, mostly illuminating the ground at his feet, only darting anxiously in the direction of any sound when the quiet of the night was broken by the flutter of a nocturnal bird or the faint chirping of insects.

Longevity Park had only two main gates: the north gate led to the traditional burial area, and the west gate to the Longevity burial section. From the north gate, one could access the ring road and head to the city, or turn onto nearby side roads leading to the suburbs. The road from the west gate, by contrast, stretched into the wilds and farmlands, looping around the cemetery before returning to the main road and connecting with the highway or suburbs. This road had been built specifically for the Longevity section, and so had no streetlights along it—after all, no one would be visiting graves in the dead of night.

Chen Jin and Xiao Wu had left from the north gate, following the fence and asphalt road, having just passed the west gate; by now, they had circled most of the cemetery. Despite the long walk, Xiao Wu had only grown more anxious, especially after leaving behind the glow of the streetlights near the west gate and facing the seemingly endless darkness of the wilds.

Chen Jin stopped, turned to the visibly tense Xiao Wu, and said, “You don’t need to be so nervous. We’re just checking the fence for gaps or holes. Why are you shining your flashlight everywhere but the fence?”

Xiao Wu swallowed and gave Chen Jin an apologetic, stiff smile, as if someone were forcing the corners of his mouth upward.

Chen Jin sighed, “If you’re so timid, why did you apply for a security job here?”

Xiao Wu didn’t answer right away.

They walked a few more steps, then Xiao Wu suddenly spoke—not to answer Chen Jin’s question, but to ask one of his own. “Chen… Bro Chen… Here… in our cemetery, is there… you know, that kind of thing?”

Chen Jin was puzzled for a few seconds before realizing what he meant. He chuckled. “What are you thinking? You youngsters still believe in that stuff?”

Xiao Wu said nothing, his face long and drawn—not with anger, but with anxiety so intense it made his muscles twitch.

Chen Jin didn’t look at Xiao Wu's face, but continued inspecting the fence. “I’ve worked here for over ten years and never seen anything unclean. Old Xu has worked here even longer—since the cemetery was first built. Back then, the surrounding area was all wasteland, with many earthen graves, no asphalt roads or streetlights. At night, it was pitch black—wild boars roaming about—and even then, there were no ghosts.”

He turned to Xiao Wu with a reassuring smile. “What you saw was just a thief—or at worst, someone with mental problems. Nothing supernatural.”

With that, the conversation ended. Xiao Wu fell silent.

Their steps crunched over dirt and weeds. The asphalt road nearby, though smooth and clean, lacked the light of the north gate. Here, only moonlight above and their two flashlights held back the night.

Xiao Wu’s flashlight always shone just ahead of their feet.

Suddenly, the beam rose.

Chen Jin, thinking Xiao Wu had finally collected himself, was about to encourage him—“Just one more section of fence to check and we can go back and rest”—when Xiao Wu’s trembling voice broke the darkness.

“Chen… Bro Chen… Are you sure there’s really nothing?”

Chen Jin frowned, stopped, and turned his flashlight on Xiao Wu.

Xiao Wu’s voice was hoarse, deeper and weaker than Xiao Jin’s, whose throat had been sore for days. In the shadows, his expression was unreadable, but the flashlight revealed his slight trembling.

Chen Jin, growing impatient, snapped, “Of course not!” Then, urging, “One last stretch of fence, then we can get back. Let’s go!”

He thought to himself that Xiao Wu probably wouldn’t make it past his probation. With that in mind, Chen Jin stopped coddling him and focused on checking the fence.

The other flashlight lingered in the air for a long moment before slowly moving to follow Chen Jin.

When they finished checking the last length of fence, they turned into the cemetery.

At least there were some sparse streetlights by the north gate. Inside the cemetery, there were none—only the distant glow of the dormitory windows. The flashlight beams cut through the avenue, but beyond their halos were rows of tombstones, unsettling in the darkness.

Chen Jin was used to it. He deftly unlocked the small iron gate at the north entrance, locked it behind them, the creak of hinges and the clang of the lock especially loud in the silent night.

Xiao Wu found the atmosphere even more oppressive than outside, his anxiety mounting. He kept his flashlight fixed on Chen Jin ahead, afraid to let the light wander for fear it might reveal something dreadful.

Soon, they heard voices and saw faint lights from the traditional burial area.

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The voices startled Xiao Wu so much he tensed up and shrank behind Chen Jin.

Chen Jin’s heart skipped a beat. “Come on, something’s happened,” he called, hurrying forward.

Xiao Wu’s body felt heavy and awkward, trailing behind as Chen Jin’s flashlight, steady and sure, floated ahead, making his figure flicker in and out of the light. Xiao Wu, breathless, struggled to keep up, his own flashlight jerking wildly, sometimes illuminating tombstones and portraits.

Though the details were lost in the dark, Xiao Wu still felt their eyes on him. It was as if countless gazes watched from the shadows.

Chen Jin quickly found where his colleagues were gathered, calling out before he reached them.

The others, clustered among the headstones, looked up, their flashlights swinging to illuminate Chen Jin and their own faces.

Xiao Wu, exhausted, looked up and saw those strange, overlapping shadows among the graves, letting out a short, involuntary cry. He halted, almost skidding to a stop at the edge of the burial path.

Thud, thud, thud…

But the footsteps didn’t stop.

Chen Jin, ahead, slowed and glanced back at Xiao Wu with a look of annoyance before turning his attention back to his colleagues.

Thud, thud, thud…

Suddenly, Xiao Wu realized the continuing footsteps weren’t from Chen Jin.

Thud, thud, thud…

The sound… it was behind him…

A cold rush ran through Xiao Wu, his blood surging to his head, then draining to his feet as if it would seep into the ground. He felt hollowed out, his mind blank except for the pounding in his ears.

Terror gave him sudden strength. He spun around, flashlight swinging to illuminate the space behind him.

Behind him: a dense array of tombstones, and further back, the silhouettes of trees swaying.

That area was the cemetery’s rest zone, where several trees grew, benches circled their trunks, and a small shop stood nearby—now closed for the night, its glass doors reflecting the flashlight, shelves inside packed with goods.

The night wind rustled the leaves.

There was no one around.

Only the portraits on the gravestones, faces frozen in stone, stared silently ahead.

Again came that thudding sound. Only now did Xiao Wu realize it wasn’t footsteps, but his own heartbeat.

He took a shuddering breath, gradually calming down.

“Xiao Wu! What are you standing there for?” Xiao Jin called out from within the graves, his voice still hoarse but strong enough to carry far in the night.

Snapped back to reality, Xiao Wu hurried to join his colleagues.

They were gathered before two headstones.

Xiao Jin, brimming with pride, said, “The cameras didn’t catch exactly which grave he was visiting, but I remember the two bouquets he brought every morning—one a plain bunch of chrysanthemums, the other different every day.”

The cleaning staff at Longevity Park were diligent, but also considerate. Offerings and flowers left by families weren’t cleared away until the next morning, since during the day they were busy with the trash and ashes left by visitors. Thanks to this, Xiao Jin had managed to single out two possible targets among the many graves in row thirteen.

Chen Jin, turning a peach blossom in his hand, muttered, “So, the kid bought flowers and picked some from the Longevity section too. So many flowers…” He was now certain Sheng Yao wasn’t mentally unstable. He studied the gravestone. “Is this his target?”

“I think so,” Old Xu nodded toward the adjacent grave. “But I suspect the grave of this elderly couple is his real goal.”

Xiao Jin cut in, “Should we notify their family to be careful?”

“That’s our job, not theirs,” Old Xu shook his head.

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“But if we check in advance, we’ll be prepared,” Chen Jin argued.

Old Xu considered, then nodded. “All right.”

Chen Jin jotted down the information from both tombstones, as well as their numbers.

With this clue, the group prepared to return to the office to verify the remaining details.

Only Xiao Wu seemed absent-minded. His gaze shifted between the two gravestones, the bouquets in front of them, and the inscriptions.

“Xiao Wu, you should head back to the dorm,” Old Xu said. “The rest of you too. Chen and I will go speak with the business department.”

Longevity Park was an old, remote cemetery that had never prospered. Unlike the newly built Crane Cemetery with its dedicated subway and shuttle buses, getting here from the city meant taking a private shuttle, driving, or hiring a car—each journey taking at least two hours. This inconvenience applied to staff as well as visitors, so apart from a few who lived nearby, most employees had to stay in the cemetery’s dormitory.

For Old Xu and Chen Jin, this was convenient now.

“That’s right, nothing more to do tonight. Get some sleep and keep an eye on that guy tomorrow,” Chen Jin agreed.

“I’ll keep a close watch on him myself tomorrow,” Old Xu added. “Losing one person at the parking lot won’t matter. The rest of you, carry on as usual, just stay alert.”

Chen Jin agreed with this plan.

The two of them led the way. Because the paths in the traditional burial area were narrow, the group formed a single-file line, Xiao Wu trailing at the back.

The night wind blew ceaselessly through the cemetery. With nothing to block it, the breeze was never fierce but always present.

Xiao Wu had grown used to the rustling leaves, but suddenly, amidst the steady rhythm, he heard a different sound.

Swish… swish…

Like plastic rubbing together.

He thought of the bouquets at the graves—he recognized the yellow and white chrysanthemums, but not the other flowers, all wrapped in colored plastic. The sound must be the plastic wrapping…

Xiao Wu turned to look behind him.

Something flew at him from the darkness.

Startled, he jerked his head aside, but the thing still brushed his cheek. He clapped a hand to his face, flashlight darting wildly until he finally found a peach blossom at his feet.

It had been blown over by the wind.

Relieved but still shaken, Xiao Wu let out a breath.

As his flashlight moved, he was about to continue on when the beam swept across something.

In the path between the two rows of gravestones, in front of those two graves, a figure had appeared, standing silently with something cradled in its arms.

Xiao Wu’s heart skipped a beat, his hand trembling as he moved the light back to the spot—only to find it empty, no one there at all.

He was terrified, yet couldn’t help himself—he shone the flashlight at the two graves.

The bouquet of chrysanthemums remained, the peach blossoms were scattered, but the other bouquet, which had been there… was gone.

“Xiao Wu,” Xiao Jin called, “what’s gotten into you tonight?”

Xiao Wu ran to catch up with Xiao Jin and the others.

As Xiao Jin muttered beside him, Xiao Wu heard nothing, his mind replaying the shadow and the missing flowers.

Shivering in the night wind, Xiao Wu felt the chill of early spring seep into his bones.