Chapter 005: Paying Respects to My Parents

This story is purely fictional.

Ma Shengwei walked out of the house and got into his sedan. Sitting at the wheel, his expression was stern. He picked up his phone and dialed a number. “The thing we want might be in Wu Zhengzhe’s hands. Go to his house right now and search for it. If you don’t find it, bring him back to your place and keep an eye on him for me...”

Ma Shengwei hurried to his office. As soon as he arrived, he grabbed a satellite phone and dialed, speaking in a low voice, “That guy’s surgery is at Dahe Hospital. I heard Chi Zhaoming has been released from prison. How are you people watching him? Such an important situation, and I haven’t received any reports—you’re useless! Today, at the hospital, Chi Zhaoming handed something to Wu Zhengzhe. That thing could be what we’ve been searching for all this time—it's extremely important to us. Go to Wu Zhengzhe’s house immediately and make sure you get your hands on it.” He hung up the phone.

After a while, his operative called back. “We’ve turned Wu Zhengzhe’s house upside down and found nothing. What should we do next?”

“Wait, I installed a tracker on his car.” Ma Shengwei spoke into the phone as he activated the control center equipment, scanning for the tracker’s location.

He searched for a long time but found no signal from the tracker. He realized Wu Zhengzhe must have discovered it. Frustrated, Ma Shengwei smashed a mouse on his desk, scattering fragments across the floor. “You’ve got guts! If I catch you, I won’t let you go! You had your chance, but you wouldn’t take it—if you’re reckless, you’ll suffer the consequences!” He roared in his office, his face twisted in rage. Then he ordered his men, “We'll deal with it in the daylight tomorrow.”

Wu Zhengzhe received a call from Xiyu, warning him that Ma Shengwei was searching everywhere for him. After leaving the hospital, Wu Zhengzhe and Zhaoming returned to their hometown together. Zhaoming told Wu Zhengzhe that Qingming Festival was approaching, and before his surgery, he wanted to visit his parents’ graves. If he waited until after the operation, he feared he might never return home again.

By the time they arrived, it was midday.

Since Zhaoming’s parents passed away, the old house had stood empty, the door tightly shut.

Wu Zhengzhe parked his Hummer in front of Zhaoming’s house, unloading paper money, spirit currency, and firecrackers from the vehicle and placing them on the ground.

Zhaoming stepped out of the car, his expression solemn as he gazed at the door in silence.

Perhaps this return felt different; Zhaoming’s face was clouded with sorrow. “I feel like this will be the last time I pay respects at my parents’ graves. The feeling is so strong, I don’t even know what causes it.”

“Don’t say things like that. We’re here to honor them. If we’re paying tribute, we’re asking for their protection and peace—not to sigh and lament.” Wu Zhengzhe, slightly annoyed, admonished Zhaoming.

“I’m speaking from genuine feeling, not mere premonition—it’s as real as if it truly exists,” Zhaoming replied.

He seemed lost in thought; Wu Zhengzhe also fell silent, gazing into the distance.

The village houses, built of red brick and blue tiles, were whitewashed with lime. Their structure resembled the tile-roofed dwellings common in Suzhou gardens—without exquisite carvings, but standing on the open plain, they possessed a rustic charm all their own.

The houses lined the riverbank embankment, facing south with their backs to the north.

Once, the old house stood on high ground, but now it had settled into flat earth, overgrown with wild trees and weeds—a testament to the passage of time and changed circumstances.

Though the foundation of the old platform lingered in Wu Zhengzhe’s memory, he could no longer see where it had gone.

The saplings planted during his days in the army had grown into towering trees, providing abundant shade.

They made their way to the fish pond behind the house. In the past, Zhaoming’s father had tended it; now, Zhaoming’s youngest uncle managed it.

The pond held some fry. As the lunar third month approached, lotus shoots planted by his father had already pierced the water’s surface, their tender green spirals rising upright from the pond.

A dragonfly rested on one of the lotus shoots. Its coloring was unusual—green with streaks of dark red, an enchanting sight. The dragonfly stood still as Zhaoming drew near, engrossed in observation. He noticed its wings trembling faintly as its tiny mouth sipped dew from the lotus. “Look, look, its wings are vibrating—do you see?”

“Yes, I see. Should I make a trap and catch it for you? Or maybe we could catch some cicadas in the grove ahead?” Wu Zhengzhe asked with a smile.

“No need. See how it rests there? Don’t you think it’s enjoying the sunshine in peace? Let’s not disturb its tranquility,” Zhaoming said.

Hearing this, Wu Zhengzhe abandoned the idea of catching the dragonfly. He sighed, “Yes, it really seems to be savoring the moment. Let it enjoy the sun and rain freely.”

They stood by the pond, breathing in the fresh country air.

“Wow, the air is really so fresh. When we were young, we dreamed of city life. But now, city people flock to the countryside, seeking fresh air and vegetables grown in village gardens. Why? Because our cities are polluted, our environment deteriorates, and food safety is threatened,” Zhaoming said with a touch of regret.

“Yes, here we can escape the noise and pollution; rural life is far more comfortable than city life. Sadly, when we were here, we didn’t appreciate its goodness—blessed but unaware. Remember when we graduated high school? We all wanted to escape the narrow confines of the countryside and venture into the wider world, unwilling to live as our fathers did, facing the earth each day. Now, after experiencing city life, we envy the ease of being a villager. Look, isn’t this the paradise described by Tao Yuanming?” Wu Zhengzhe gestured at the distant scenery.

“Back then, we were young, full of dreams and ambition, waiting for time to prove them. We can’t say our fantasies were empty or unrealistic,” Zhaoming glanced at the land behind him and sat on the edge of the pond.

Seeing Zhaoming sit, Wu Zhengzhe joined him.

They watched a farmer in the distance spraying insecticide in the rice field. The white mist from the sprayer drifted like a curtain, then vanished.

“Agriculture in the seventies wasn’t as advanced as today; farming was just a means to get by. Villagers worried about basic survival. We were young, yearning to broaden our horizons, hoping for modernization. Do you remember? They said by 1980 we’d achieve mechanization. We were so eager. But that day never came, and we were disappointed. Carrying that disappointment, we went out to pursue our dreams. Time slipped away—thirty years gone in a blink. As we walked forward, we realized we hadn’t gone far, maybe not even moved.”

“Your words are bittersweet. In truth, our past is no different from ordinary people. Perhaps this is what they call life. We don’t seek riches, only peace. Don’t mourn, or worry about fame or fortune. As long as we’re still here, all is well!” Wu Zhengzhe comforted Zhaoming.

Suddenly, something stirred at the water’s edge. Peering over, they saw a carp at the shallow bank, its tail swishing as it gulped air at the surface.

The fish, lively and alert, seemed to hear their conversation. With a flick of its tail, it dove, swirling the water and sending droplets flying. As the drops fell, they rippled out in tiny circles, slowly fading.

Both men were lost in memories. “Let’s get the rituals done—we still need to return to the hospital,” Wu Zhengzhe broke the silence.

Zhaoming came to himself, murmuring agreement, and followed Wu Zhengzhe to the graves of Wu Zhengzhe’s parents.

Wu Zhengzhe placed several sticks of incense, some apples, and a bunch of bananas before the headstone, then poured wine into a cup and set it at the grave.

Before he could speak, emotion choked him. Since his days as a soldier and later as a policeman, work had kept him from home. His mother loved apples, his father preferred bananas, but in those days, such things were rare in remote villages—an era of scarcity, with difficult travel. Even a rare trip home meant squeezing onto a long-distance bus.

“Yes, back then, Qu Wenkai didn’t even know what a banana looked like. We didn’t learn until we came to Dahe. Do you remember Qu Wenkai eating bananas?” Zhaoming asked.

“Of course. Most village kids had never seen bananas, didn’t know how to eat them. Qu Wenkai washed the banana at the tap and bit into it, making the soldiers from the county laugh,” Wu Zhengzhe replied with a smile.

“Family conditions weren’t good then. My home was even worse. You lived in tile-roofed houses; Wenkai and I had thatched cottages. It pains me. I wonder why my ancestors were so poor—I still brood over living in thatched huts,” Wu Zhengzhe shook his head. “In my generation, things improved a bit, but my parents never enjoyed any of my good fortune. I regret not visiting them more when I had the chance. Now they’re gone, and the feeling of wanting to care for them but being unable to is overwhelming.”

Zhaoming and Wu Zhengzhe sat a long while at the grave, with Zhaoming not urging Wu Zhengzhe to hurry to his own parents’ grave.

Wu Zhengzhe checked his watch—it was late. He rose quickly.

He helped Zhaoming up; perhaps from sitting too long, his legs were numb. “Ten years in prison really ruined my health,” Zhaoming sighed.

Unsteady, Zhaoming leaned on Wu Zhengzhe until he found his footing.

They went to Zhaoming’s family shrine, its atmosphere solemn. The sand pines planted when the shrine was built had grown tall, swaying their sturdy branches in the wind, as if greeting Zhaoming and Wu Zhengzhe.

Zhaoming feared critical evidence would fall into the wrong hands. Until the crucial moment, he would not hand this trump card to anyone.

Wu Zhengzhe placed the items Zhaoming had given him into a porcelain jar and handed it back.

Zhaoming was puzzled. “I asked you to keep it safe, so why give it to me now?”

“Xiyu called me earlier—Ma Shengwei is searching everywhere for me, trying to get these items. No place feels safe. Only by burying them in the graveyard will those people never find them. There’s hardly anyone trustworthy left in Dahe’s police department. Luckily, Xiyu is acting under orders and can bypass procedures. These items are vital for Xiyu to solve the case—they must not fall into Ma Shengwei’s hands,” Wu Zhengzhe explained.

He took a small iron shovel from his backpack and gave it to Zhaoming. Zhaoming dug a hole beside the grave and buried the jar.

He lit several sticks of incense, clasped his hands, and spoke, “Father, Mother, I am Zhaoming. I have served ten years in prison and returned. At this moment, I have so much to say, but I do not know where to begin.”

As he spoke, tears streamed down his face. “In prison, I constantly reflected on myself, on the mistakes I made. It was I who made you worry day and night, worsening your health. Your frail bodies suffered so much pain and hardship in this world—I know I bear much responsibility. Less than a year after you passed, Mother followed you, and my grief multiplied. In less than a year, you both left us, devastating Minghe, Mingri, Mingyue—all of us.”

“Some say that after death, people ascend to bliss, another world. They call it heaven. Though I only hear of it, I believe it must be true. I believe you are happier there than you ever were in this world, for you never enjoyed any blessings from your children—only toil and hardship.” As he spoke, Zhaoming burned large denominations of spirit currency.

He continued, feeding paper money to the flames. The glowing fire illuminated the shrine and their faces.

Wu Zhengzhe sat quietly beside him, watching as Zhaoming’s solemn face shimmered with tears.

“While you were alive, you always dreamed of building the family shrine. Uncle has fulfilled that wish for you. Our shrine is dignified and grand, envied by all in the village. Are you comfortable and at ease in your new abode?”

“When you were here, you were reluctant to spend money, always saving. Now things are better, don’t pinch every penny. I bought you some good cigarettes—don’t trade them for cheap ones at the market just to smoke a few extra days. It’s wasteful; quality doesn’t matter, but these are better for you. And Mother, too—you always saved treats for us.”

Zhaoming wiped his eyes. “In your last days, you asked me to adjust the air conditioner so you could cool off just by turning it on. I set it for you, but before you could use it, you were gone.”

“The greatest regret is you told me your head was dizzy. I said I’d bring medicine next time, but before I could deliver it, you fell into the water because of your dizziness. I regret not returning a day earlier—maybe the accident wouldn’t have happened!” Zhaoming wept bitterly.

“If you are in heaven, please forgive your sons for their shortcomings when you were alive. Dujuan’s surgery is soon—if you have spirits above, please bless your daughter-in-law, and your grandson Xiyu, who is now rooting out evil. Grant him safety and success!” Zhaoming knelt and bowed at the grave, the sound of his devotion deeply stirring Wu Zhengzhe.

After the rituals, they returned to the car, composing themselves. Wu Zhengzhe started the Hummer, and under the moonlit night, they sped back to Dahe...

(To be continued)