La collection complète des cercueils fantômes de Yellow River

Chapitre 24

Although the restaurant was not crowded, the food was served very slowly. Ouyang got up and urged them several times, and the waitress enthusiastically agreed several times, but the food still did not arrive.

“You don’t seem to have a headache anymore,” he said, having nothing else to do, and looked at me carefully. “But you don’t look too good.”

"It's okay," I quickly said. "How about you? Are you done yet?"

“Of course I’m fine.” He raised an eyebrow. Spring sunlight streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making Ouyang’s face appear exceptionally clean. I stared at him blankly, thinking that such a clean face couldn’t possibly be involved in any conspiracy. Then I remembered how enthusiastically he had helped me find Meng Ling, even getting a headache because of it… A thought suddenly struck me—perhaps his attitude towards Li Yuntong was different from his attitude towards others?

"What do you think might happen to Li Yuntong?" I asked tentatively.

Card.

Although he quickly realized what was happening, my disappointment was beyond measure—like everyone else, he always paused when Li Yuntong was mentioned, as if he needed to think things through before answering—she's just a colleague, what could possibly require such thought? To be honest, I really didn't want to believe there was any conspiracy, but if there wasn't, how could their attitude be explained?

"He should be back soon," Ouyang replied absentmindedly, his indifferent attitude quite unlike his usual self. He didn't even maintain this cold attention before quickly changing the subject, "Why are the dishes taking so long to arrive?"

I gritted my teeth, just about to ask him directly why he treated Li Yuntong this way, when my phone rang. A little figure and Xu Li's name appeared on the screen. I quickly answered the phone: "Hello?"

"Hello?" Xu Li's voice sounded very low, even somewhat dejected, as if in just two nights she had gone from a radiant returnee to a resentful woman who had been abandoned. "You called me the day before yesterday?"

"Hmm," I nodded repeatedly, the QQ avatar of west Chu Yang Guan flashing into my mind—who says the internet has to be virtual? When I don't know what the other person looks like, the virtual avatar on the internet becomes the image of that person in my mind. "After you called me that night, who else did you call?"

"Is that all you wanted to ask?" she asked impatiently. "Stop messing around, I have something important to tell you..."

Her tired and impatient tone irritated me, so I interrupted her: "I'm talking about serious matters—who else did you call?"

"Yu Fei, what's wrong? You broke up with him, but we're still friends."

"I don't know him at all!" I said angrily, while also secretly surprised—Yu Fei? Could this Yu Fei be west Chu Yang Guan?

"Alright, let's not talk about this anymore," she sighed. "Have you heard about Han Xiaofeng?"

"What's wrong?" Han Xiaofeng was our class monitor in college. What happened to him? Did he get married? After learning that Xu Li had called Yu Fei after me, I was eager to know who Yu Fei was and had no time to care about other people's business. Besides, Ouyang was sitting across from me. I didn't know why he and the people in the office were behaving so strangely. My mind was a jumble of questions. When Xu Li threw another question at me, every cell in my body seemed to sigh.

“He died last night.” Xu Li sensed the impatience in my tone. Knowing my personality, she quickly and unequivocally stated the truth. Those words sent a jolt through my mind; all my questions vanished, leaving only the image of Han Xiaofeng's smug smile from his university days expanding infinitely. I asked incredulously, “Are you kidding me?”

"Yes, you must be joking, Xu Li?" Before she answered, I silently thought to myself—this must be fake, how could such a thing happen? Just a few months ago, Han Xiaofeng was chatting with us, wasn't he always the guy who liked to wear T-shirts and sneakers? How could someone like that be associated with death? I had imagined our reunion many years from now, when we were old and gray, and at that time, we would reminisce about our college classmates, some of whom we had lost contact with, some of whom had passed away—but that was when we were old and gray, not now. We had only recently graduated, and Han Xiaofeng wasn't even a thing of the past for me, but a part of the present. Yet Xu Li told me that he had become everyone's past forever—how could that be?

"Would I joke like that?" Xu Li sniffed. "I just got back to the office and saw the message in the yearbook. Go take a look."

"What happened?" I asked, bewildered.

"Car accident." Her voice was damp and muffled, as if it were coming from a waterfall. "Go see for yourself, I'm crying my eyes out." She really was crying; suppressed sobs came from the other end of the line. But I didn't cry. I still couldn't believe it was true. I just said, "I'll go see right now," and hung up. Before Ouyang stopped me, I didn't realize I had already stood up and left my seat.

"What happened?" Ouyang looked me over carefully.

"Han Xiaofeng is dead." I stared at him in shock, not realizing that he had no idea who Han Xiaofeng was. I just felt that he and the entire restaurant behind him were filled with shocking elements.

He didn't ask any further questions: "Aren't you going to finish your meal before you leave?"

I shook my head. "I need to see if it's true." Without paying attention to his expression, I turned and left, hearing soft footsteps behind me. We quickly passed through the haphazardly arranged tables in the restaurant, through a patch of exposed spring sunlight, and returned to the building. As the transparent, cool spring light fell on my shoulders, I seemed to see our student days, as vibrant as spring itself, slowly disappearing at the end of the road. In the distance, a child was running forward; where was he running to? I walked silently, wanting to recall things about Han Xiaofeng, but what a lovely season this was, the sky so beautiful, inspiring endless daydreams about the future. I found myself unable to immerse myself in the past; my mind was a complete blank.

After the initial shock subsided, I didn't even feel grief. Han Xiaofeng's death didn't seem like a real story; it was as if it happened in another dimension, to another version of myself, like something out of a novel, completely unrelated to the real me. Even when I returned to my office, turned on my computer, and saw the entire process of Han Xiaofeng's death in the yearbook, confirming the news was accurate, the expected grief didn't come.

Only a faint melancholy rose like invisible steam. I remembered the time I spent with Han Xiaofeng. There were some things only the two of us knew. Although they weren't secrets or important conversations, they were still some of the happiest times in my university life. From now on, there will be no one to share those happy moments with. Han Xiaofeng's permanent departure not only took him away from this world, but also took away some of the things we experienced together. It's always like this, one person after another disappears from our lives, and one memory after another can no longer be placed. It's like doing something without evidence; sometimes it makes you wonder, did those things really happen?

Did Han Xiaofeng and I really do those things together?

Did Han Xiaofeng really exist?

I was lost in thought about these things. For some reason, I inexplicably thought of Meng Ling, the woman who drowned in Liufang Lake, and Li Yuntong, Gu Quan, Yu Fei, Xu Xiaobing, and so many other people. Some of them were so obviously real, while others were not even certain whether they had ever existed.

What exactly constitutes existence?

Stop, stop! I silently commanded myself, and as usual, my thoughts began to drift aimlessly again. I exhaled a long breath and pulled my attention back to the screen. I had seen the news of Han Xiaofeng's death countless times, but I still mechanically read it over and over again, because in the first half of the text, Han Xiaofeng was still alive. Perhaps this was the last record of Han Xiaofeng's life—"At 11 pm on March 19th, our classmate Han Xiaofeng and his girlfriend were rushing back from outside. When they were almost at their building, a large truck came from afar, and Han Xiaofeng and his girlfriend dodged to the side." -- Han Xiaofeng and his girlfriend taking a walk; this was his last action on earth. Did he have a girlfriend? I remember he didn't have a girlfriend in college, so did he get one not long after graduation?

In the following record, Han Xiaofeng's life, from birth to death, was but a fleeting moment. I stubbornly tried to find a dividing line in these words to distinguish the moment of living from the moment of death, but I found that there is no clear dividing line between life and death—"When the truck passed by them, Han Xiaofeng fell in front of the truck. Before his girlfriend could react, the truck drove past..."—When should Han Xiaofeng's death be counted? Was it from the moment he fell in front of the truck? But how could he suddenly fall in front of the truck? The classmate who wrote this record was very emotional, and some parts were vague. I repeatedly considered why Han Xiaofeng fell to the ground, and other questions that I myself could not express in words. These questions gave me a splitting headache, and finally I fell asleep in front of the computer. In my hazy state, I vaguely heard my colleagues talking to Ouyang, but I soon lost track of what they were saying.

26

If Ouyang hadn't woken me up, I probably would have continued sleeping. In my hazy state, I felt someone calling my name and a hand shaking me, but I just didn't want to open my eyes. My head felt heavy, and I couldn't lift it. With great effort, I opened my eyes and slowly became fully awake. I heard Ouyang calling me softly, "Are you awake?"

"Hmm." I slowly sat up straight. My head seemed to be throbbing, I felt nauseous, and my whole body was chilling.

"You have a cold, don't you?" Ouyang stared at me.

"Why did you wake me up?" I asked, rubbing my head, somewhat irritated. It wasn't just my head that ached; every muscle in my body seemed to ache. I touched the mouse, and after the screensaver disappeared, the messages in my yearbook reappeared. At the top was a bold, black-and-white notice: Han Xiaofeng's funeral will be held the night after tomorrow at the East City Funeral Home. I suddenly straightened my back, finally truly waking up.

Han Xiaofeng is dead.

Li Yuntong has disappeared.

Could something even worse happen?

"You look terrible." Ouyang reached out and touched my forehead. His hand felt unusually cold, and I shivered and quickly looked away.

“You really have a fever,” Ouyang said. “When I took the documents from you just now, I felt that your body was burning hot, and your temperature seemed quite high.”

"Really? I touched my forehead and sure enough, I have a fever. No wonder all my muscles hurt."

Okay, could things get any worse? I was secretly sulking with someone I didn't know, and looking at the bright sky outside the window, I felt strange: why do so many sad things happen on such a beautiful day?

I felt a little thirsty, so I stood up to pour myself a glass of water. Suddenly, my vision went black, and I quickly grabbed the edge of the table for support.

"Hey, you should sit down." Ouyang quickly helped me sit down, and Xiao Geng and Aunt Xu also came over. Aunt Xu touched my forehead, then touched her own forehead, and nodded, saying, "It's at least 39 degrees Celsius."

“Go back and rest,” Ouyang said. “You look terrible.”

Aunt Xu poured me a cup of hot water, which I drank while it was still hot. I broke out in a light sweat and felt a little better. My dizziness subsided when I stood up, but my whole body still ached. Ouyang offered to take me home, but I insisted on walking by myself. It was just a fever, nothing serious; it seemed a bit pretentious to need someone to take me home. Aunt Xu smiled and said, "Just let him take you." I felt Aunt Xu's smile was a little strange, so I quickly shook my head, said goodbye to everyone, and left. Ouyang was still calling after me, "You must see a doctor! Don't take medicine on your own!"

"Hey." I waved my hand haphazardly behind me.

It wasn't until I was out of sight of my colleagues that it dawned on me—Aunt Xu's smile wasn't because she thought Ouyang liked me, was it? I rolled my eyes; this was a huge misunderstanding.

But was it really a misunderstanding? I thought about it, and it didn't seem entirely like a misunderstanding, did it? Ouyang seemed like a decent person... Lost in thought, the elevator arrived, and I snapped out of it, cursing myself: a classmate died, a colleague went missing, and I still had the leisure to think about these things—how incredibly boring! I forced myself to think about Han Xiaofeng and Li Yuntong, but thinking about them only made my head throb even more. I realized I couldn't think of anything, so I got on the bus with a blank mind, swaying half-asleep until I got off.

After getting off the bus on Yunsheng Street, I looked at both sides and saw that this old street was showing an unprecedented vitality in the spring sunshine. There were more people on the road, and a cold wind was blowing. I felt that my fever was not so bad, so I put Ouyang's advice out of my mind and walked along the street, looking for a pharmacy.

After walking for a while and asking a few people for directions, I returned to the street where I had rented books last time. The pharmacy was right next to the bookstore, so I bought a box of cold medicine and then went into the bookstore. The owner was tidying up the bookshelves. Seeing me, he pushed his wheelchair over and greeted me warmly, "What kind of books would you like to look at this time?" My eyes swept over the walls covered in colorful books, and I felt dizzy. I shook my head, "Never mind, I won't look at any today."

"Oh." He lowered his head, his face slightly flushed. "Your roommate, did they move out?"

"Huh?" I thought for a moment before I realized he was talking about Meng Ling.

"I haven't seen her for the past two days." His face turned even redder.

"She moved away," I said, turning my gaze away as if to read a book, ignoring his expression.

People were constantly coming and going in the bookstore, all seemingly familiar with the owner. Near a row of books in the corner, a man in black was flipping through them. After a while, he picked up a book and started to walk out. As he passed me, he bumped into me. I quickly moved aside, but he suddenly stopped and stared at me.

"What's wrong?" I felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

"You saw me?" His voice trembled, and his pale cheekbones suddenly flushed with excitement. The burning gaze in his eyes frightened me.

"I saw you picked up a book." I felt his words were a bit strange, but I didn't think much of it and turned to leave the bookstore—it was too crowded and the air was stuffy, which made my head ache even more.

He grabbed my arm, his movements somewhat rough. I shook him off in disgust, saying, "What are you doing?" My voice was a little louder, and the bookstore owner pushed his wheelchair over, looking at me with surprise, "What's wrong?"

I didn't say anything, I just glared fiercely at the person in black.

He stared at me, his gaze still intense, yet seemingly filled with fear. His handsome face was contorted with excitement. I felt he looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't think about that now. I just thought he was very reckless and somewhat annoying.

"What are you looking at?" the bookstore owner asked again.

“He can’t see me,” the man in black told me.

The two men spoke almost simultaneously, making my head buzz for a moment before I understood what they meant. I looked at the bookstore owner, then at the man in black; both of them were staring at me.

My mind was still reeling.

Could this man in black actually be an "invisible person"?

I stared at him in shock, my mouth slightly open, but I couldn't utter a word.

"What are you looking at?" the bookstore owner asked again, his gaze full of doubt. He looked up following my gaze and saw the man in black right in front of him. But when the bookstore owner's gaze passed over the man's body, there was no change in his expression, as if he hadn't seen anything at all.

"Did you see this person?" My hands were trembling uncontrollably, and it took a lot of effort to stop them.

"Which one?" The shopkeeper's eyes searched among the other customers in the bookstore.

"The person in black in front of me," I said, swallowing hard.

He looked at me more closely, staring intently. "Are you feeling unwell?" This answer made me realize that he truly couldn't see the person in front of him. I started sweating profusely, and my vision seemed to blur. The man in black gave me a wry smile. I struggled to steady myself and slowly reached out to touch the man's body. He seemed to understand my intention, shrinking back slightly, taking a deep breath, and with a look of fear, he allowed me to touch his arms and shoulders—warm, real human bodies, right before my eyes, visible and tangible. I could even smell the greasy odor emanating from his body, from not having bathed in a long time.

But the bookstore owner couldn't see him!

I couldn't believe he couldn't see a living, breathing person right in front of him. He was looking at me with increasingly worried eyes, as if concerned that I was having mental problems. I remembered when Li Yuntong met Gu Quan, his colleagues in the office looked at him with the same eyes. Li Yuntong, I finally understand how you feel. Because I understand, my guilt has become even stronger. I looked around, wanting to find someone else to verify—doing so would definitely make people suspect I had mental problems even more, but I couldn't suppress the urge to verify—now I realize how much self-control Li Yuntong needed not to ask his colleagues about Gu Quan's existence. I couldn't control myself like him. Gritting my teeth, I asked the people around me, "Have you seen this person in black?"

They looked at each other, puzzled. One of them hesitated and said, "There are no people wearing black clothes here."

The man in black gave me another wry smile: "Don't ask anymore, they'll think you're crazy."

There really are unseen people!

Ignoring the whispers and pointing fingers around me, I stared intently at the man in black before me—such a person truly existed. I had just thought this was all a conspiracy, but he had actually appeared. If such a person truly existed, then perhaps the strange behavior of my colleagues in the office was related to him… I had a bellyful of questions to ask him, but before I could speak, the bookstore owner tugged at my sleeve and whispered, “Go back and rest for a bit, don’t talk anymore.” I was deeply grateful for these clearly well-intentioned words. I turned to look at him, about to say something, but I saw something in his eyes that shouldn’t have been there.

It was the shadow of that man in black.

The shadow of the man in black was projected with unparalleled clarity into the bookstore owner's clear, watery eyes. How could I have missed it so soon? His pupils reflected the man in black; how could I have believed he truly couldn't see him? Upon discovering this reflection in his eyes, I was jolted, a silent sorrow washing over me, followed by a deep rage. I couldn't help but let out a cold laugh, glancing at the others. Indeed, everyone's eyes reflected the man in black. He wasn't transparent; the light reflecting off his body left an image in everyone's eyes.

They can all see him!

Anger swelled to an unbearable level in an instant. I slowly scanned each of their faces with my gaze—what sincere and honest faces they were! The book rental shop owner had such a friendly and worried smile on his fair face, with a slight blush on his shy expression… Everything seemed so sincere, yet it was all fake, all a lie to me.

They're all lying to me. Everyone—the people renting books, the bookstore owner, the man in black—everyone's weaving the same lie. What I admire most is how sincere their expressions are while lying; they're Oscar-worthy. I let out another cold laugh, then felt an overwhelming, dark aura fill the small bookstore—a conspiracy. It's all a conspiracy. I'm certain now. The invisible man, Meng Ling—it's all a conspiracy. Everyone's lying to me!

Xu Xiaobing is lying to me too!

Li Yuntong is lying to me too!

Even Ouyang lied to me!

Everyone has been bribed. This is not a myth, it is the truth. It's all a lie!

I felt extremely wronged and angry. A thick fog obscured my vision; I couldn't see or hear anything. Anger surged through my chest like steam, and I felt like I was about to explode. I opened my mouth, ready to unleash a torrent of abuse, but before I could utter a word, tears streamed down my face. I felt utterly ashamed to have cried in front of these people who had mocked me. I ignored what they were saying, pushed them aside, and stormed out the door.

The cold air outside enveloped me like a thin film. I ran as fast as I could, making the people and buildings on either side blur into a flowing movie, so they couldn't see my face, and I couldn't see them either. I knew I was crying, and I didn't want anyone to see me cry, I didn't even want anyone to see me. At that moment, I wished I could truly disappear, to leave this world far away.

I ran for a long time, and gradually, the booming sound in my head disappeared, and everything around me became clear. I slowly stopped and realized that I had already run past No. 6 Yunsheng Street. Some people on the roadside were staring at me in surprise, and my phone kept ringing in my pocket. I wiped away my tears as I walked back, panting, and answered the phone.

"Hello?" I didn't pay attention to the other person's number; I just made sure to control my voice so that the other person wouldn't realize I had just been crying.

"Why didn't you answer the phone?" It was Ouyang's voice. "Have you seen a doctor? What's your fever?" He was as attentive as ever, and this attentiveness touched me deeply. Then I remembered that they had all lied to me, and this concern turned into an even bigger deception. I couldn't control myself anymore and burst into tears into the phone: "Stop pretending! You're lying to me! You're lying to me!" I leaned against the wall by the roadside, trembling all over. I felt like I was soaked in sweat, and my panting was pounding violently in my temples. I felt like I was about to suffocate.