When she woke up in the morning, the health congee she had set to cook overnight was ready, releasing a rich fragrance as she lifted the lid.
Just as Jing Xiu was about to scoop it with a ladle, the doorbell rang. Without putting down the ladle, she called out to the door: “Leave it there, I’ll get it later!”
A crisp “Alright!” came from outside, and the bell stopped ringing.
When she went to check later, the hallway was quiet, with a bundle of sunflowers leaning against the door.
On this day every month, someone from the flower shop would deliver flowers, and she would take them to the cemetery, placing them at Ding Xi’s tombstone in the farthest corner, and chatting with him for a while.
She talked about everything under the sun – difficult customers, recent variety shows she’d watched, even what she’d eaten the day before. She’d say whatever came to mind, and when nothing came to mind, she’d just sit there, watching the small green grass clusters growing by the tomb, the rows of pine and cypress at the cemetery’s edge, the blue sky, and the drifting clouds.
Others brought yellow and white chrysanthemums or carnations to the cemetery, but she brought all kinds of flowers, changing them every month. Sometimes they were bright and intense, sometimes pure and elegant. Once, she even brought a potted bamboo fern and asked the cemetery staff to help care for it, only to find it stolen on her next visit.
What kind of person would steal flowers from the dead?
She quite liked these sunflowers – their bright yellow seemed ready to drip with intensity. The cemetery was always gray and dark; adding some bright colors would make it livelier.
The taxi ride to the cemetery took about half an hour. On the way, the driver chatted with her: “Who are you visiting?”
After thinking for a while, Jing Xiu said: “A friend.”
Yes, a friend – that was all she was. Ding Xi never saw her as a lover, and heaven was too stingy to give her time to love.
A year ago, when Ding Yudie came to handle Ding Xi’s affairs, he couldn’t figure out the relationship between Ding Xi and Jing Xiu. He assumed that since everything had been entrusted to her, they must have been close. Worried she couldn’t handle the shock, he wrung his hands repeatedly before saying: “There’s something you need to prepare yourself for.”
Jing Xiu read his expression, her heart slowly sinking, but her voice remained calm: “Did something happen to Ding Xi?”
Ding Yudie couldn’t look at her or perhaps didn’t want to, his gaze wandering as he just nodded.
Jing Xiu made a soft “oh” sound, then asked: “Is he injured, or dead?”
She thought he must be injured.
Ding Yudie said: “The latter.”
Jing Xiu thought for a long time about what “the latter” meant, then suddenly realized. Thinking the family would want the house back, she became flustered: “I understand, I’ll move out as soon as possible.”
She lived there because of Ding Xi’s kindness; with him gone, that kindness was gone too.
Ding Yudie was confused. He had expected her to break down crying or become inconsolable, but her reaction was like that of a reasonable tenant.
He said: “It’s like this – we’ve brought back the body. Do you want to take a look?”
Jing Xiu said: “Can I? Yes, I want to. Wait for me, I’ll change my clothes.”
She didn’t even close the door, rushing to the bedroom to rummage through her suitcase, only to realize all her clothes were too colorful. The home clothes she was wearing were more appropriate.
So she hurriedly came back out, trying to smooth her hair with her hands, saying: “Okay, this will do, let’s go.”
She forgot to change her shoes, wearing only slippers. Along the way, she kept trying to smooth the wrinkles in her clothes. When Ding Yudie looked at her, she smiled awkwardly.
She hadn’t thought about crying. Ding Xi’s family would all be there; it would be a big scene. How could she cry? Who was she anyway? Besides, given her position, if people knew, it would only bring shame to Ding Xi’s memory.
She secretly reminded herself to be appropriate – even if her face showed grief, it had to be just right, not too much. That would be stealing the show.
At the funeral home, she had expected many people, thinking she could just blend into the mourning crowd. But there weren’t any. On the way to the cold storage, only Ding Yudie accompanied her. They had to pass through a corridor where her slippers made rhythmic sounds against the floor: pat-pat, pat-pat.
Entering the cold storage, following the numbers to find the right drawer, Jing Xiu couldn’t help asking Ding Yudie: “Where is everyone?”
Ding Yudie pointed to the drawer he was about to pull out: “Here.”
Jing Xiu knew he misunderstood: “No, I mean, where are the others? Am I the only one coming?”
Ding Yudie nodded.
“Where’s his family? His relatives?”
Ding Yudie said: “There aren’t any. Didn’t you know he was abandoned as a child? He has no relatives.”
“Then what about friends?”
There must be friends, the kind who should come before her.
Ding Yudie answered: “None. Just you. After you’ve seen him, we can arrange the cremation.”
He pulled the drawer halfway out, leaving her some privacy: “I’ll be outside. Just close it and come out when you’re done.”
After Ding Yudie left, Jing Xiu stood frozen for a long while.
What did “just you” mean?
Ding Xi died, and only she came to say goodbye?
She stepped forward to look at him.
Honestly, he felt very unfamiliar. He lay there so peacefully, without his usual mocking smile, without his overwhelming presence.
She looked for a while, closed the drawer, and stumbled out. Her eyes were dry; still no tears, just feeling lost.
Seeing Ding Yudie outside, she still smiled politely, saying: “Thank you, I’m done. I can go by myself, no need to see me out.”
She felt she needed to walk a long way slowly, alone, step by step, to digest this news.
Ding Yudie stopped her, saying: “There’s one more thing. Ding Xi left instructions – all his things are yours.”
Jing Xiu thought he meant keepsakes or some meaningful memento: “What things?”
Ding Yudie said: “Everything.”
Afraid she didn’t understand, he made a circle with his arm to show that “everything” meant everything: “The house he left, his savings, basically anything that was his is now yours.”
Jing Xiu was stunned for a long while, then said: “You must have the wrong person. I wasn’t even his… girlfriend. It can’t be for me.”
She left after saying that, and really walked all the way back. Halfway through, finding the slippers cumbersome, she kicked them off and walked the rest barefoot. The gravel and stones hurt her toes and soles, slowly bringing her back to reality with the pain.
She stood on the dusty main road barefoot, wiping tears from her eyes, stood for a while, then walked on.
What else could she do? People like her had only one advantage – they could endure any blow, any hardship.
That night, at Ding Yudie’s request, Zong Hang called her, saying: “The things Ding Xi left behind are definitely for you, there’s no mistake about that. Besides, he had no one else to give them to.”
He sighed: “Ding Xi was like a contrarian. I always said he never did the right thing, but in the end, he did one thing right. Yi Sa and I always said following him wouldn’t end well for you, but… I don’t understand him.”
At the burial, Ding Yudie came, along with a woman called Yi Yunqiao, and they both left flowers at the grave.
Ding Xi rarely took photos; the one on his tombstone was from his passport, his expression and eyes distant, as if he had never had any connection with this world from beginning to end.
Afterward, Ding Yudie gave her a phone number: “If you have any troubles in the future, call this number. We’ll arrange for someone to help.”
What troubles could there be? With money and a house, difficulties weren’t so hard anymore.
Ding Xi had left a bank card, the PIN carelessly written on the signature strip on the back. When Jing Xiu checked at the ATM, she found that contrary to later rumors, he hadn’t left her millions, but it wasn’t a small amount either – over 1.2 million.
When that number appeared, Jing Xiu felt dazed, thinking how mysterious the world was, how everything seemed predestined: initially, Yi Xiao had promised her 1.2 million to hire her, and it was this amount that had moved her heart, making her feel it wasn’t just money but hope, a chance to start the second half of her life anew.
She never expected the 1.2 million would actually materialize, just not from Yi Xiao. The fresh start for the second half of her life came from Ding Xi instead.
Jing Xiu carried the large bunch of sunflowers, climbing the cemetery steps one by one. She knew this path so well she could walk it with her eyes closed: to the end, turn right, then.
After placing the flowers, she sat on the steps, absently pulling weeds from below, chatting casually with Ding Xi.
“Zong Hang went to Cambodia. He asked me to go with him, but I thought about it and decided not to. He’s going with hope, with purpose – what would I be going for?”
“I’ve always wanted to find out what happened back then, but Ding Yudie won’t say, and when I ask Zong Hang, he won’t tell either. He says it’s better not to know, and better to stay confused. He’s right – I’ve always been confused, suddenly having everything I should have, with old acquaintances saying I’m lucky, have good eyes, accumulated good karma.”
She paused, correcting herself: “Well, not everything. If only you were still alive.”
A breeze brought the sound of birds chirping and rustling leaves.
“Business at the shop is good. Some customers asked me out, but they weren’t very reliable, so I refused…”
Jing Xiu smiled and fell silent, sitting there for a long time until a burial ceremony with its hammering sounds on the other side brought her back to reality. She stood up to say goodbye to Ding Xi: “I’m going now, see you next month.”
As usual, she walked the way back.
On the way, she called Zong Hang.
When he answered, she could hear it was very noisy on his end, like being in a repair shop, with engines humming, welding sounds, and clanging of metal.
Jing Xiu asked: “Where are you?”
“At a motorcycle rental place. I need to rent a bike, they’re reinforcing it now.”
Jing Xiu smiled: “Going to look for Yi Sa?”
“Yeah, everyone rides motorcycles here, it’s convenient.”
Just then, a clear, excited voice cut in: “Is that Jing Xiu? Jing Xiu, I’m Apa, hell, I’m going with the young master! Wherever he goes, I go – can’t let him out of my sight!”
Zong Hang scolded him on the other end: “When has anything good happened with you around? I’m more worried about you coming along!”
Jing Xiu burst out laughing, then said softly after a pause: “I envy you.”
Zong Hang was surprised: “Envy me? What for?”
Jing Xiu couldn’t explain clearly.
Zong Hang hadn’t even found Yi Sa yet, and even if he did, he might not be able to convince her. Yi Sa was said to be very strong-willed, and according to Zong Hang, she was also seriously ill.
Perhaps she envied that he had someone he was so certain about and that once he was certain, he persisted regardless of the outcome.
Jing Xiu said: “Nothing. Anyway, keep at it, and let me know if you have good news.”
True heart for true heart – when you give your true heart, there’s always a response. Even if there isn’t, what’s there to lose? You lose nothing and can face yourself with dignity.
Some things don’t necessarily need a good outcome; persistence itself is enough consolation.
After hanging up, she continued walking.
Ding Yudie had once let her hear a sentence from Ding Xi’s last words, the part about her.
Just one sentence.
“Give everything I leave behind to Jing Xiu, just tell her…”
Tell her what?
She often pondered what came next, and even sought out fortune tellers, hoping Ding Xi would appear in her dreams to complete the sentence.
She never got to hear it. She did dream about Ding Xi, but in those dreams, he remained distant, just as he had been in life.
Later, Jing Xiu came to terms with it.
Nothing matters more than living earnestly, steadily, and as happily as possible.
Ding Xi wasn’t her final destination, but he had indeed helped her cross a stretch of water.
She should live better, and only by choosing to live better could she honor that crossing.