C1 Death

Zhou Pu, a graduate of a low-tier university, struggled to find a decent job even in a market where top university graduates faced challenges. He had cycled through various jobs, including factory work, food delivery, courier services, and security, but nothing stuck. He felt lost in life, uncertain of his direction.

His appearance was unremarkable; he blended into crowds and at best, might play an extra in a TV show. By the age of 30, he was still single.

Zhou Pu's parents had passed away early, leaving only his grandfather as family. His grandfather, a war veteran with lingering injuries, had raised him. As the old man's health declined, making walking a struggle, Zhou Pu stayed close to home, juggling odd jobs while caring for him.

The grandfather often pushed Zhou Pu to go on blind dates. Initially, Zhou Pu approached these with sincerity, but after repeated rejections, he resigned himself to the likelihood of lifelong solitude.

When the old man nagged, Zhou Pu would noncommittally acknowledge him. He had expected life to continue at this slow pace, but his grandfather's sudden death left him reeling.

Kneeling in the spartan mourning hall, Zhou Pu stared silently at his grandfather's photograph. The old man had been in the final stages of cancer, diagnosed too late. Cancer patients suffer immensely, and Zhou Pu couldn't fathom the strength it took for his grandfather to endure in silence, concealing his pain to avoid burdening his family. Regret gnawed at Zhou Pu—if only he had been more successful, earned more money, been a better grandson...

Some whispered cruelly, "This kid is heartless. Not a single tear for the old man's death. All those years of care for nothing."

Another chimed in, "Exactly, an ingrate. The old man scrimped and saved to put him through college, all for nothing."

"Keep it down, don't let him overhear you."

"What's there to be scared of? Did I say anything wrong? If I'm right, why should I be afraid? He's a college student, but what good is that if he doesn't even have basic decency? It's like all the lessons about respect and filial piety went in one ear and out the other."

"That old man, always pinching pennies, and even in death, he's left things looking so shoddy. Just look at this wake – barely a strip of white cloth in sight. No musicians, no priest – what kind of send-off is this? It's heartbreaking, really shows the lack of filial piety in his descendants."

"And look at him, just look. Other college grads are starting companies, driving Mercedes, and he's doing worse than Old Wang's simpleton son from the village entrance. That guy's already got himself a local bride, and she's quite the beauty too..."

Zhou Pu hung his head, seemingly oblivious to the neighbors' chattering as they relished the spectacle. His silence only fueled their gossip. He was all too familiar with such talk; his grandfather's passing filled him with remorse. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was to blame for his grandfather's early demise. If only he had been more successful, his grandfather might have lived a happier, longer life. Why hadn't he pushed himself harder? Even if it meant deceiving a woman into marriage, it would have fulfilled one of his grandfather's wishes, sparing him from the sting of idle talk and perhaps prolonging his health. The weight of self-reproach made him ball his fists, as if ready to burst into tears, yet his eyes remained dry. Was he truly as heartless as they claimed, an ingrate?

His grandfather was the epitome of a farmer, toiling in the fields all his life. As a child, the lean and tanned old man would gently stroke Zhou Pu's head with his calloused hands, advising, "Be a good boy, study hard, and make it to college. Don't end up like me, with nothing to show but a life spent farming."

In his spare moments, the old man would tenderly extract his carefully wrapped military medals from an aged drawer. These were honors earned at the cost of his life during the war. As he polished the gleaming stars, he'd regale Zhou Pu with war stories, tales of camaraderie, the struggles of combat, and the sacrifices of his fellow soldiers, impressing upon him the value of their peaceful life. The old man's eyes would sparkle as he recounted these memories, transporting him back to his youth. Though Zhou Pu was just a boy, barely grasping the gravity of the stories, he listened with rapt attention, captivated by the tales of battle.

When he received his first paycheck, he treated his grandfather to his favorite tobacco and liquor. Yet, the old man's face turned grave as he chastised him for frivolous spending, insisting the money be returned. Instead, they settled for a modest bottle of sorghum liquor. At home, they joyfully shared several glasses, accompanied by peanuts. With a flushed face, the grandfather couldn't stop praising his grandson for growing up and earning his own money.

As the old man lay on his deathbed, he remained fixated on his grandson's marriage. His dying wish was to witness his grandson's wedding, a moment he would never see. With trembling hands, he removed the jade ring that had grown too loose for his finger and handed it to Zhou Pu. This ring, steeped in the Zhou family's sorrowful history, was now entrusted to Zhou Pu to carry on the legacy.

With the passing of his sole remaining relative, Zhou Pu found himself without any ties to the world. A stifled rage welled up inside him, impossible to release, manifesting only in prolonged sighs. He resolved that once his grandfather's affairs were settled, he might as well end his own life by leaping from a cliff—perhaps his grandfather would be waiting for him on the other side.

...

The Zhou family lacked close kin, and their distant relatives had long since drifted apart. As dusk fell, even the neighborhood busybodies, finding no more intrigue, dispersed, leaving Zhou Pu alone, draped in white, to rise from his sore-legged stance. He replaced the extinguished candle and knelt once more. This was his final tribute to his grandfather, a vigil he would keep with solemn respect, regardless of any onlookers.

The wake was desolate, with no one to offer condolences. The stillness was shattered by a sudden commotion and the sound of disordered footsteps approaching.

"Captain Zhou... Captain Zhou... I've searched so hard for you... Why... Why did you have to go?" A well-dressed elderly man with white hair and gold-rimmed glasses, upon seeing the photograph at the center of the wake, collapsed to his knees, shaking. When someone attempted to assist him, he angrily shrugged them off.

Zhou Pu did not recognize the visitor, having never met him before. From his words, Zhou Pu surmised that this was one of his grandfather's comrades from his youth. Touched by the gesture, Zhou Pu steadied himself on his knees and rose to offer the man a stick of incense.

The elderly man paused briefly before accepting the incense with reverence, bowing three times. As someone behind him attempted to take the incense to place it in the burner, a stern glance from the man halted the action. Shaking, he rose to his feet and carefully positioned the incense himself. After wiping away a tear, he turned and asked, "Are you... the grandson of Captain Zhou?"

Zhou Pu gave a slight nod, then earnestly responded to the old man's inquiries. Through the old man's stories, Zhou Pu learned that his surname was Lin and that he had once been a fellow soldier in the same platoon as Zhou Pu's grandfather. They had shared a bond forged in the heat of battle. After Zhou Pu's grandfather had been injured and sent home, the era's limited means of communication through letters led to their eventual loss of contact. Mr. Lin had always held onto the gratitude he felt for Zhou Pu's grandfather and had hoped to reunite with him one day.

Regrettably, the old man had spent his days tending to the small plot of land belonging to the Zhou family, almost as if he had vanished from the world. Ultimately, he collapsed and was rushed to the hospital.

Throughout the night, Mr. Lin kept vigil with Zhou Pu. Despite several attempts by accompanying family members to persuade him to rest, he dismissed them with harsh words. Only when he could no longer stand was he reluctantly lifted and taken away by the doctor who was with them.