Chapter 61: A Shared Grief

Finally, the day had come.

The rain fell steadily, yet without urgency.

“Do you need an umbrella?”

“No, this is fine.”

Zhang Qingwei nodded, putting the umbrella he had taken from his bag back in place. Behind him and Jin Shiling, a taxi drove off into the distance.

The light rain forecasted had diluted the gradually intensifying heat of July. Occasionally, a gentle wind blew, neither cold nor irritating, only leaving a faint layer of moisture as the two walked.

The siblings walked one after the other in modest attire today. Jin Shiling wore a simple light gray dress that reached her knees, layered with a thin knit cardigan, sleeves slightly rolled. The dampness from the rain clung faintly to the fabric at her waist. On her feet were dark canvas shoes, the edges speckled with tiny flecks of mud as they trod across the gray bricks.

She hadn’t bothered to tie her hair, only pinning it casually with a hair clip. Through the mist and drizzle, her familiar yet distant profile gazed forward, holding two bouquets of white chrysanthemums in her hands.

Today was a special day—it marked the anniversary of the death of their parents. As Jin Shiling had arranged with Zhang Qingwei over the phone a few days ago, this year they would come together to pay their respects at the cemetery.

The cemetery on the outskirts of the city was not large. Walking slowly along the quiet, winding paths, the siblings were surrounded by neatly planted pine and cypress trees. Rain pattered on the leaves, creating a soft rustling, like distant whispers.

Passing a few elderly people who had stepped back, Jin Shiling glanced at Zhang Qingwei a few meters behind her. He still wore the familiar black coat and dark blue jeans, appearing as if ready to go to work. One hand in his pocket, the other holding his bag, he occasionally paused to wipe raindrops off his glasses.

These past few days had made her slightly uneasy. Concerned about Black Mirror finding her, she had left the hospital after a weekend stay and returned home, coinciding with the end-of-term summary before school holidays. According to Polaris, the Magic Surveillance Department had indeed dispatched a team to protect her and Zhang Qingwei from the shadows. Still, even after carefully observing the crowd for suspicious gazes, she found nothing unusual and had no choice but to trust them.

Thankfully, these days had been relatively calm. Zhang Qingwei seemed unaware of anything around him, which eased her slightly.

They walked in silence, maintaining a close but unintrusive distance. Passing through this resting place filled with countless memories, both carried thoughts they could not speak aloud, quietly reflecting in the serene and slow atmosphere, waiting for the right moment.

After about ten minutes, they reached their destination.

Two gray tombstones stood side by side, separated only by a space just wide enough for a small bouquet. The left bore the name Zhang Qingran, the right Jin Yuanhao—Zhang Qingwei’s mother and Jin Shiling’s father.

It was strange—though these people had long disappeared from life, seeing these markers that proved their existence brought a tangible sense of their absence.

Someone once so vibrant and full of life had now become ashes, placed in a box and buried beneath stone.

Jin Shiling bent down, gently placing the two bouquets of white chrysanthemums at the base, closing her eyes as she called out softly:

“Dad, Mom, we’re here.”

Zhang Qingwei hesitated at her change of address, observing her expression carefully, but found nothing unusual. After a moment of indecision, he did not speak aloud as she did, merely standing behind her and softly responding:

“Yes, we’re here.”

From his bag, he retrieved a small bottle of white liquor and a box of pastries, kneeling at the tombstone. Jin Shiling’s father had often mentioned sharing a drink with him, countless opportunities that never materialized. This small gesture was the closest he could get now.

“Uncle, I brought this for you today. I’m not very familiar with white liquor, so I hope you can handle it.”

Twisting off the cap, Zhang Qingwei poured the liquor near the tombstone, leaving just a sip at the bottom.

“The rest, I’ll finish myself. Cheers, Uncle.” He raised the bottle and drank it all in one go, coughing violently afterward.

“If it’s too strong, don’t push yourself,” Jin Shiling said softly, offering a tissue.

“I did insurance for nearly a year after graduation. Not drinking at the table could cost deals, so this amount is nothing. It just tastes a bit harsh… hmm, cough, cough…”

The fiery liquid burned his throat. He wiped his mouth, took a few sips of water, yet his breath still carried the scent of alcohol.

Honestly, Jin Shiling couldn’t imagine this quiet, stoic man selling insurance. It seemed entirely mismatched. Seeing him clear his throat, she took the pastries from his hands and placed them in front of her mother’s grave.

“Mom, these are your favorite pastries. I wanted to bring more, but my brother said it would be a waste, so I only brought this little bit.”

“Anyway, it won’t be here long before it’s cleaned up. And you used to say you wanted to lose weight but never really did, so it’s good to keep you in check,” Zhang Qingwei commented sharply, looking at his mother’s name, recalling her image while alive.

“Dad, Mom, look at him—still silent, still no girlfriend.”

“…I’m not not dating, it’s not that I can’t. And here you are, badmouthing me to two dead people. What about yourself?”

“Me?” Jin Shiling picked up a leaf from her father’s tombstone, smiling as she recounted her year. “Dad, don’t worry, I’m doing well. I scored well in the finals this semester, became the vice class monitor, made some good friends, and the teachers trust me. You don’t need to worry about being called to school anymore. You now have a daughter to be proud of.”

She looked at Zhang Qingwei, giving him a nudge with her elbow, as if encouraging him to speak too.

What could he say? Standing before these rain-soaked stones, his mind went blank. But in her eyes, he caught a rare flicker of hope.

Perhaps, the answer he sought was there.

Clearing his rusted throat, Zhang Qingwei struggled to organize his words:

“I… I’m still the same. Not much change—salary hasn’t risen much, but that’s fine. We have a new leader this year; he’s hands-on, so work is lighter. Everything else is ordinary. I think it’s good.”

Once begun, words and feelings often couldn’t be stopped.

“Since you’ve been gone, no one has nagged me to drive, or to date, skip check-ups, or attend company events. Mom, you always worried about what would happen if you weren’t here, but life hasn’t changed much. Household chores, daily tasks, they’re never really hard. I can handle them. No one can’t live without someone else; no one is irreplaceable.”

Perhaps influenced by the solemn moment, or moved by Jin Shiling’s words, or simply under the effect of alcohol, he responded:

“To me, you were never irreplaceable… but you were still unique.”

“…I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Dad, Mom.”

Jin Shiling tilted her head, rubbed her eyes, and slowly stood, looking up at the drizzling sky. No one could tell whether the liquid sliding down her cheeks was rain or tears.

After witnessing the battle with Liu Tianze, the girl had reflected deeply on life’s fragility and the sorrow of unfulfilled promises—others’ lives, now part of hers.

She felt the need to speak with Zhang Qingwei, realizing that despite any grievances, he remained family. She did not want passive waiting to end in regret.

And now, she felt her gamble had paid off. Before her, Zhang Qingwei had removed his glasses, revealing a face she had rarely seen—no longer cold and detached, but flushed, eyes squinting slightly, teeth clenched in what looked like anger.

No—he truly was angry, likely not wanting anyone to see him like this.

“Oh, crying already? Pathetic.”

“Miss, aren’t you the same?”

“…Not really. You can see clearly even without glasses?”

“Hmph, even if I can’t, I can still hear your voice.”

Before their parents’ graves, the two siblings teased each other like any ordinary pair. Jin Shiling relentlessly pointed out Zhang Qingwei’s flaws, and he returned fire with equal precision. Even she was surprised at how much he could say at once.

“Dad, listen. This guy’s taste is awful. The new summer towel is hideous, and he changed mine without asking—terrible!”

“I asked your opinion, but you sat there coldly memorizing words. If no one managed your stuff, it’d never get changed, like your old toothbrush!”

“Huh? I just bought the same one! Who says I didn’t change it? You always throw questions like a ghost—I can’t react in time. And though I’m tall, I couldn’t even go to the neighbor’s to kill a cockroach—so you had to do it!”

“So what? Some genius forced me to study until I cried late at night, almost blew up the kitchen making midnight snacks!”

“You, mama’s boy who does nothing when home!”

“And you, scheming girl pretending to be obedient, acting so high and mighty!”

——

What exactly is the proper way for siblings to interact? Perhaps even they do not know. But at this moment, this conversation was likely exactly what siblings would sound like.

Talking to the dead changes nothing. No matter how much one expresses longing, no response comes. Yet why do people speak at a loved one’s grave?

Because even if they have passed, there remain those around worth cherishing. Not for the dead, but for oneself—for those still alive to touch, speak to, and protect.