Cronología de la muerte

Capítulo 68

At dawn, a thin mist rises, like a lake breathing. The distant, misty mountains gradually fade away, leaving only faint outlines of gray, purple, and blue, until they melt into the milky blue sky.

The boat's motor was off, and all around was quiet. The mountains reflected in the lake reminded the friends of their busy lives. What a tranquility this was, one they had never experienced before.

"I felt as if the noise of the world had stopped."

"Jumarin said softly. But then she wondered what had happened to Berhali. Had he stayed up all night, just like her? She glanced at her daughter. Even though she was allowed to have the forbidden foods for breakfast—coffee cake, donuts, and cola—Esmee didn't say a word."

The little girl felt ashamed of her mother and Berli. They seemed so stupid; they destroyed the whole house and almost killed themselves. And everyone here was talking about it.

“I can’t handle this.”

Marlene told her daughter this, and then didn't look at her for hours, which made her stomach hurt. Well, now let Mom experience that too.

"Guys, this is totally worth it!"

"Wyatt said. Wendy nodded, her face remaining calm.

Heidi hadn't felt this calm since the murder. The morning mist carried her worries to the winds. For the first time, she didn't think about those terrible things, like the capsizing... no, she banished them from her mind and turned to face the towering mountains.

The Buddha's teachings seem to be true here.

Vera initially thought life was just an illusion you had to give up. As she grew older, she realized her perspective on death had shifted.

In her youth, death was merely a philosophical concept; past thirty, it was an unbearable future; at forty, it became an inevitable fact; and at fifty, she was able to face death in a more rational way.

Making her final will, meticulously recording her assets, filling out organ donation forms, and preparing a detailed will before her death—when she reached sixty, she returned to a philosophical understanding of death. Death is not the loss of life, but rather the culmination of a series of sacrifices.

You must free yourself from emptiness, desire, ambition, suffering, and setbacks, and all the bonds of the self. If you do, then you will disappear, leaving no trace.

Just like the morning mist that lingers on the lake at dawn.

I was horrified by the idea. Evaporation? Could this happen to me? I wanted to stretch out, to fill that void, to reclaim everything I had lost.

I want to fill this tranquility with all the words I haven't yet spoken.

Emergency Investigation

The paper maker was the first to report seeing the missing tourist to the police.

"Did you see them before or after they disappeared?" the police officer asked.

“It must have been before they disappeared,” the papermaker replied, “otherwise why would I tell you I saw them?”

They stood in front of the papermaking workshop, a house with six pillars. The tourists had come to see how he made paper: he picked up a bucket, poured crushed mulberry leaves onto a silk cloth framed in wood, and then picked up a wooden shovel to spread "clay" evenly and finely onto the cloth.

He demonstrated for the police on the spot, and even sprinkled some flower petals and ferns on the silk cloth, making it look bright and charming.

The paper maker said that the pretty little girl with the dog really liked this stuff.