La collection complète des cercueils fantômes de Yellow River

Chapitre 27

29

Li Yuntong's home wasn't far from the company. After two turns, the rows of new houses in the residential area came into view. The pink houses against the clear blue sky gave off a carefree feeling. Ouyang and I got out of the car at the entrance of the residential area and found the 10th building in the area, following the address written in our notebook.

The apartment on the left on the fifth floor is Li Yuntong's. Ouyang reached out and pressed the doorbell. I stood nervously behind him, suddenly realizing that it was during working hours and Chen Jing might not be home. Ouyang turned to look at me and smiled, "Don't be nervous."

Footsteps came from inside the door, a glint of light flashed in the peephole, and someone inside asked, "Who is it?" Ouyang turned to look at me, and I recognized Chen Jing's voice. I stepped forward and nervously asked, "Is Chen Jing here?"

The door opened, and Chen Jing stood in the doorway, holding a rag in her hand. Li Xiaohu was crawling around on the living room floor, playing with a toy car. The sad expression that had appeared on their faces when Li Yuntong disappeared yesterday had completely vanished.

"Hello!" I said.

Chen Jing looked at me suspiciously, then at Ouyang: "Who are you?" Seeing her expression, I already felt something was wrong, and hearing her say that, I knew there was no hope. Chen Jing didn't remember Li Yuntong either. She had been to our office before, but now she seemed not to recognize us. Even so, I still clung to a sliver of hope, licked my lips, and took a deep breath: "We are Li Yuntong's colleagues."

Ouyang's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. Judging from his expression, he didn't recognize Chen Jing either. He and Chen Jing only knew each other because of Li Yuntong. Now that Li Yuntong had disappeared, there was no need for them to know each other anymore, was that right? Looking at the unfamiliar look in their eyes, my heart suddenly clenched—the bonds between people can sometimes be so fragile; they break automatically before you even touch them.

“You’ve come to the wrong place. There’s no one named Li Yuntong here,” Chen Jing said with a smile.

"Huh?" I clenched my fists, about to continue speaking, when Ouyang patted my shoulder from behind. I turned around and he said, "Let's go."

I shook my head and quickly turned to face Chen Jing: "Li Yuntong is your husband." Ouyang coughed behind me, but I pretended not to hear. Hearing me say that, Chen Jing laughed again: "You've got it wrong, my husband isn't Li Yuntong."

"Then who is your husband?" I asked hastily. My question was quite abrupt; if Li Yuntong really wasn't Chen Jing's husband, then she didn't have to answer my question at all. But Chen Jing was clearly a very good-natured person; she didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with my question: "My husband was a sailor, and he passed away a long time ago."

Hearing her answer, I couldn't describe how I felt. I just felt it was utterly absurd and couldn't speak for a long time.

This is truly absurd. The company doesn't acknowledge that Li Yuntong ever existed, and his wife is even worse; she not only forgot his existence but also has another husband.

"Jiang Ling, let's go," Ouyang said.

"Can I see a picture of your husband?" I continued to ask Chen Jing.

Before Chen Jing could speak, Ouyang said, "Jiang Ling, that's enough, it's time to go." He gently pulled me downstairs, but I resisted and stood still, looking at Chen Jing.

“My husband didn’t leave any photos,” Chen Jing said. “After he passed away, we threw away all his photos.”

So thorough. I smiled bitterly. It was like the people in the office had cleaned out all of Li Yuntong's belongings. Chen Jing had also deleted all of Li Yuntong's photos. Needless to say, there was no trace of his existence left in this house. A person had simply vanished completely, like trash on the ground, swept into a garbage dump. Now, the things that could prove Li Yuntong's existence had become real trash, but what about him?

I finally decided to give up and obediently followed Ouyang down the street. When we were about to turn the corner, I couldn't help but look back again, only to see Li Xiaohu's little head sticking out from the crack in the door, his big, dark eyes looking at me curiously.

"Are you called Li Xiaohu?" I asked him.

"Yes!" he shouted.

I laughed, but then realized I was already in tears: "Who is your father?"

“A seaman,” he said.

The door closed, and Ouyang handed me a tissue: "Why are you crying? Let's go."

How could I not cry? Li Yuntong has completely disappeared from people's lives. Even if he's not dead, he certainly can't return to a normal life. Everything he once possessed has betrayed him. Ouyang doesn't even recognize his wife anymore. But even if everyone in the world forgets him, even if all traces of his existence disappear, his son is still here. I finally understand why people need offspring. Life isn't eternal, memories aren't eternal, everything will one day disappear. Only these genes passed down from generation to generation continue because of the existence of offspring. Half of Li Xiaohu's body comes from Li Yuntong, so as long as Li Xiaohu exists, a part of Li Yuntong's body will still exist. Perhaps that's why Chen Jing thought she had a deceased sailor husband? Even if she could forget everything about Li Yuntong, she couldn't ignore this child who belonged to Li Yuntong. He didn't spring from a rock; he must have a father. No matter who Chen Jing says his father is, no matter what they say about that father's identity and name, those are just symbols. The most real proof is the child himself; he is Li Yuntong's child, and no one can change that. I don't know why all this happened, but it happened. This forgetting made me feel hopeless, but Li Xiaohu's existence gave me hope. Ouyang looked at me worriedly. He didn't know I was crying because I realized there was still hope.

Fortunately, Li Yuntong's disappearance was not entirely complete.

"Don't get too excited," Ouyang said. "You probably had a high fever yesterday."

I shook my head and checked the time: "It's getting late. By the time we get to the hospital, it will probably be closed."

“Okay,” Ouyang nodded, “I’ll take you home. Get some rest tonight, and you might be fine by tomorrow.”

Along the way, Ouyang Dong chatted idly, and I could tell that he was deliberately trying to distract me and prevent me from thinking about Li Yuntong, which touched me deeply.

It was rush hour, and the traffic was terrible. Cars moved slowly, and exhaust fumes poured in through the windows, making me dizzy. As the car passed the small park near Liufang Lake, I couldn't resist sticking my head out. After a few days away, the scenery at Liufang Lake was even more enchanting. Several peach trees were ablaze with vibrant red blossoms, and the smooth lake surface resembled a pool of green jelly, reflecting a soft light from the sky. People were coming and going along the shore. I wondered if Li Yuntong had come here after her disappearance. Even if she had, it would have been as if she hadn't. I remembered seeing graffiti like "So-and-so was here" on tree branches and walls when I used to come here. At the time, I just thought it was absurd, but now I think that deep down, everyone is probably afraid of being forgotten. Everyone strives to leave a trace of their existence in the world. Some have said, "If I can't be remembered for good, I'll be remembered for bad." Others have said they want to "leave a loyal heart to illuminate history." Neither the good nor the bad in this world want to disappear forever with their death. The saying, "I fear not being shattered to pieces, but only to leave my integrity behind," stems from the knowledge that while being shattered to pieces is terrible, leaving no trace in the world is even more terrifying. To what extent has Li Yuntong been forgotten? Did everyone forget him simultaneously in an instant? Why haven't I forgotten him? Being forgotten after death is terrible, but being completely forgotten while alive—is that a hundred times more painful than death? Thinking of this, I involuntarily shivered and shrank deeper into my seat.

"Are you cold?" Ouyang asked. "Should we close the window?"

"No need." I shook my head.

If someone is slashed with a knife, they don't feel the pain at first; it takes a while for the pain to become noticeable. That's how it was for me. What happened to Li Yuntong shocked me so much that I didn't feel any particular fear until now, far from the places where Li Yuntong once lived, as the car slowly moved along an unfamiliar street, and suddenly I realized so clearly what had happened!

The clearer I understand what happened, the less I understand what happened.

Or rather, my mind is unwilling to think more carefully about what has already happened, because I know that if I think about it carefully, I will understand the whole truth, and what I know even more is that this truth is not something I can bear. Like a cup of poison, it has already exuded a deadly aura, and my thoughts naturally deviate from it. Although drinking this poison is inevitable, delaying it will allow me to maintain the current peace for a little longer.

The car wheels moved slower than my thoughts, but they were moving forward nonetheless. Before I could even see the face of Yunsheng Street, its decay and silence were already overwhelming. This was the unique smell of Yunsheng Street. The dark entrance to the building under address number six was wide open on the right side of the car door, like a den inhabited by wild beasts.

No matter how slow a car is, it will eventually reach its destination; no matter how slow one's thinking is, one will eventually understand everything.

Ouyang and I got out of the car and entered No. 6 Yunsheng Street. We went from sunlight into darkness, and from the outside, they wouldn't notice anyone was there. The stairs creaked under our feet. When we reached the second floor, Ouyang looked suspiciously at the open door of room 202—a dim green light was still emanating from it.

At the door of room 302, I had just put the key into the lock when the door opened. Xu Xiaobing had already returned. Ouyang greeted her, and she nodded.

“It’s good that you’re home,” Ouyang said. “Jiang Ling isn’t feeling well, so don’t leave her alone. I’ll pick her up for work tomorrow morning.”

"Oh?" Xu Xiaobing looked at me suspiciously, then pursed her lips. "You didn't go to see a doctor?"

I stared at her intently, remembering how I had talked to her about Li Yuntong many times before, and blurted out, "Do you remember my colleague Li Yuntong?"

"Of course I remember, why?" She looked at me, puzzled.

I let out a long sigh of relief and turned to look at Ouyang.

Ouyang frowned, seemingly unaware of what was going on. He coughed and asked incredulously, "Is there really such a person as Li Yuntong?"

“Yes, she keeps mentioning him,” Xu Xiaobing said, pointing at me.

"Is he from our company?" Ouyang tilted his head, his face scrunched up.

"Right?" Xu Xiaobing looked at me and then at Ouyang. "Aren't you two from the same company?"

"What does he look like?" Seeing Xu Xiaobing's confident tone, Ouyang wavered a little. When he asked this, my heart suddenly skipped a beat, as if I had choked—Xu Xiaobing had never seen Li Yuntong before.

Sure enough, Xu Xiaobing quickly replied, "I've never met him; I only heard about him from her."

"Oh." Ouyang slowly straightened up, nodded knowingly, looked at me, thought for a moment and said, "You should rest well. I'll pick you up tomorrow so you can go to the hospital for a check-up."

"Okay," I said wearily. I knew it was pointless to say anything, and even I was starting to doubt whether Li Yuntong was just a character I had imagined.

Xu Xiaobing still didn't understand what had happened. She seemed annoyed at her complete ignorance, turned and walked towards the kitchen, seemingly casually asking, "Your name is Ouyang, right? Does hearing Meng Ling's name still give you a headache?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she seemed to regret them, immediately turning back to look at Ouyang with an apologetic expression, as if worried he might have another attack. I also watched him anxiously, even preparing to support him.

Fortunately, Ouyang did not have a seizure, but his next question surprised us all: "Who is Meng Ling?"

"Huh?" I was alright; although surprised, I just stared at him. But Xu Xiaobing gasped, her eyes widening as if she wanted to stuff Ouyang's entire figure into her brain. She stepped forward and looked at Ouyang carefully: "Don't you remember? The day before yesterday, we went to Xiang Bihua's house to find Meng Ling!"

"What?" Ouyang looked at Xu Xiaobing suspiciously. "I remember, but weren't we looking for Xiang Bihua to buy yarn? I've never heard of the name Meng Ling before?"

Xu Xiaobing gasped again and turned to me: "Is he crazy?"

Ouyang was also extremely puzzled. He looked at me and then at her with fear in his eyes, and then looked at us with a smirk, as if he thought Xu Xiaobing and I had both gone crazy.

"I don't know," I replied to Xu Xiaobing, a bitter taste rising in my mouth. "Maybe we've all gone mad." With that, I couldn't hold back any longer, ran straight into my room, and slammed the door shut. Ouyang and Xu Xiaobing called out from outside for a while, but when I didn't answer, they gradually fell silent.

No matter how much I wanted to escape, it was useless. The truth unfolded automatically. Ouyang's attitude towards Meng Ling was like the final lock on everything; now, that lock clattered to the floor, the door to the truth opened, and endless emptiness surrounded and devoured me. When Ouyang asked, "Who is Meng Ling?" I seemed to hear a sharp "clang," and in that instant, I understood everything. How foolish I had been, always thinking that Meng Ling and those other unseen people were different beings. I attributed their unknown existence to their incomplete integration into our society—if my deduction was correct, then Ouyang shouldn't have forgotten Meng Ling. According to my assumption, Meng Ling's position in this society should have grown from nothing to something, and this position should only become more stable, with more and more people recognizing her. No one should have forgotten her so completely, and I knew that Ouyang had always had an excellent memory.

The reason Meng Ling was forgotten by Ouyang is because that's how things were going to go. I should have realized it sooner. I slammed my fist on the bed—the assumption seemed reasonable, but it was exactly the opposite of the truth. Meng Ling, Gu Quan, Li Yuntong… none of them are some other kind of being; they are all human beings like me. The reason we don't know about Meng Ling and the others isn't because they haven't been deeply involved in this society, but because they are gradually drifting away from it. Like Li Yuntong, Meng Ling once truly existed. Similarly, like Li Yuntong, she was gradually forgotten, even by her own mother. That's why she told Ouyang, "Just pretend I never existed." The taxi driver we heard that day was right; he meant "Forget me." However, Meng Ling didn't genuinely want to be forgotten like a TV protagonist; she said it out of necessity, realizing that being forgotten was inevitable… I don't know why Ouyang's memory of Meng Ling is more enduring than his mother's. Perhaps he and Meng Ling truly loved each other, but he doesn't remember. Even if he remembers Meng Ling, he's forgotten the relationship. Now, he has no recollection of Meng Ling at all… But why did all this happen? How did these things occur? How could such a thing happen? How can human memory be so easily erased?

Could it be that Xu Xiaobing and I have really gone mad? Or is all of this just our own imagination?

I don't believe it, I don't want to believe it.

I stubbornly searched for the reason. Now it's much easier to find the reason, because of Li Yuntong. I know very well what happened to Li Yuntong in this world, from existence to being forgotten. I slowly sorted out the process of Li Yuntong and Meng Ling being forgotten—of all these kinds of people, these two are the ones I know best—and gradually, a fact I discovered made me tremble all over.

Li Yuntong's unusual behavior began with the woman at Liufang Lake. After that, he kept seeing various people others couldn't see, and eventually, he was forgotten. I remember seeing Meng Ling's diary page at Xiang Bihua's house, which also mentioned that Meng Ling had seen those "invisible people." At that time, she was clearly not yet forgotten, because she mentioned her mother and two other people in her diary, all of whom interacted with her normally. Shortly after writing that page, she moved into No. 6 Yunsheng Street—she probably moved in with Xu Xiaobing—but within a few days, she was completely forgotten.

From the process of these two people being forgotten, I came to a conclusion that filled me with despair: being forgotten doesn't happen in an instant. Like a certain disease, it has an incubation period, and the characteristic of the incubation period is... I trembled all over, completely unable to control myself, and just bit the corner of the blanket tightly—yes, the characteristic of the incubation period is: being able to see those "invisible people"!

If this is indeed a characteristic of the incubation period, then what state am I in now? Don't I already possess these characteristics? Does this mean that I will be the next one to be forgotten?

I shook my head repeatedly, but due to the spasms, I couldn't perform the head-shaking motion properly.

I don't want to be forgotten! I want to live a good, normal life!

A series of still images flashed before my eyes. The events of my past life erupted in my mind like a volcanic eruption, each one so familiar, even the jobs I hated and the people I disliked seemed incredibly endearing. Through my tears, I looked at this small room—even Xu Xiaobing, who used to argue with me, seemed so adorable. The bottle of chili fish on the desk was a gift from Aunt Xu. At the time, I hadn't thought much of it, but now, thinking that perhaps no one would ever give me anything again, I couldn't help but sit up and hug that small glass bottle tightly to my chest, as if hugging the world I loved so dearly. Truly, only now did I realize how much I loved this world, how much I loved everything. What is about to be lost always seems especially precious, just like what Meng Ling once wrote on the bathroom mirror: "You only realize its value after you lose it." Now I completely understand what Meng Ling felt when she wrote those words.

Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming longing for everyone I knew. I couldn't help but pull out my phone and look at their numbers one by one—I couldn't call them because I couldn't make a sound—but just seeing their numbers, seeing the traces of our conversations and texts, warmed my heart. When I saw my mother's number, my insides felt like they were being strangled—my mother didn't know yet that she was about to lose her daughter, and she was completely unaware of this loss. Perhaps, that was for the best…

A long, long time passed, and the sky outside the window changed from clear to deep, and finally became completely dark before I slowly sat up. Xu Xiaobing knocked on my door to call me for dinner. I tidied my hair and clothes and slowly opened the door.

The living room was brightly lit, and Xu Xiaobing could tell at a glance that I had been crying. She asked in surprise, "Are you feeling unwell?"

"It's alright now," I said to her almost tenderly. I even wanted to hug her, but I refrained so as not to surprise her too much.

If I could, I would want to embrace everything I am familiar with.

Just then, a song was playing on TV: "I'm afraid it's too late, I want to hold you..." I couldn't hold back anymore, tears welled up in my eyes, and I couldn't swallow the food in my mouth.

I'm afraid it'll really be too late.

"What happened?" Xu Xiaobing asked in a low voice.

“It’s nothing,” I choked out, “a friend died.”

"Oh." She put some food into my bowl.

My friend's death was just an excuse, but it quickly reminded me that I did indeed have a friend who had died.

Han Xiaofeng's funeral is tonight. The yearbook said he was also in Nancheng. I checked the time; it's already 7:30, I'm probably too late. As classmates, I should at least see him off on his final journey. I didn't even have time to eat anymore, quickly told Xu Xiaobing, grabbed my bag, and headed out.

From the window on the third floor, the song still drifted—"Until your hairline bears the marks of snow..."

I ran as fast as I could, desperately trying to escape the area enveloped by the singing.

30

When I arrived at the funeral home, the funeral was already over. People stood in twos and threes in the mourning hall; most were university classmates, and some were strangers. Several people in their fifties sat on chairs, weeping and half-asleep. I couldn't recognize Han Xiaofeng's parents. I quickly greeted the acquaintances, walked to the altar, and bowed three times. Han Xiaofeng's girlfriend returned the bow, and I stepped aside, silently gazing at Han Xiaofeng's photograph. He was smiling brightly in the photo, exactly as I remembered him. Facing his death, I found myself not as sad as I had imagined; in fact, I felt that death wasn't so frightening.

"You're so lucky," I murmured to Han Xiaofeng in my heart. "Even though you're dead, everyone still remembers you." I felt a pang of jealousy towards Han Xiaofeng; I was jealous that so many people still gathered around him after he was gone. What if Meng Ling or Li Yuntong had died? A chill ran down my spine.

"Jiang Ling, you're here." Xu Li emerged from the crowd and pulled me toward a less crowded area. I turned back to look at Han Xiaofeng's photo again—I'm sorry, Han Xiaofeng, I should have been grieving for you, but tonight my grief has already been exhausted for myself and others. All that's left is a sense of relief—at least he doesn't have to go through something more terrifying than death.

Xu Li's eyelids were red and swollen, clearly from crying. She looked at me; the heart-wrenching sobs and spasms I had endured at home left obvious marks, which she mistakenly assumed were due to Han Xiaofeng, and repeatedly tried to comfort me. I felt only indifference. I listened to her rambling about Han Xiaofeng's life, but my mind was wandering. The light in the mourning hall was dim, and people moved like ghosts, tiptoeing as if afraid to disturb the person in the coffin. I suddenly realized that Han Xiaofeng's death was actually unrelated to others. Except for his closest relatives, everyone else's lives wouldn't change because of his departure, and even their grief wouldn't last long; perhaps in the blink of an eye, they would be laughing at something else—I already saw people in the mourning hall laughing quietly, seemingly talking about something amusing. People mourn the dead, but perhaps more than that, they are also mourning their own past and contemplating their own death.

A few people were standing in a dark corner, talking in hushed tones. One of them made direct eye contact with me, and I paused for a moment, thinking he looked somewhat familiar. He saw me, also paused for a moment, and quickly parted the crowd to come forward. When he stepped into the light, I recognized him.

He is the neighbor who lives across from No. 6 Yunsheng Street.

I stared at him intently, which caught Xu Li's attention. Xu Li glanced at him and whispered to me, "Who is he?"

I didn't know how to answer, because I didn't know his name either.

He walked up to us and greeted us with a smile: "Jiang Ling, Xu Li, hello."