Finally, it was Zhu Jianjun who arrived to handle Mother Yan's funeral arrangements.
The Yan Heng of the past, though always appearing aloof, still allowed Zhu Yaya to see subtle shifts in his expression. But now, Zhu Yaya saw no emotion on Yan Heng's face. He seemed to have become a robot fresh off the assembly line, incapable of smiling or crying. He was utterly lost in his own world. He ate little, drank sparingly, his lips were chapped, and the dark shadows under his chin had deepened.
Zhu Yaya's heart ached for him, but she did not disturb him. She knew that some things he had to figure out on his own, he had to find his own way out. And even if she wanted to help, she didn't know what to say.
The money previously set aside for Mother Yan's treatment, left over due to her sudden passing, was just enough to cover the funeral expenses.
The funeral was scheduled for Monday. Yan Heng didn't have to go to school, but Zhu Yaya did. However, seeing Yan Heng's state, she couldn't bring herself to leave him. She asked Zhu Jianjun if she could stay with Yan Heng.
Zhao Jing objected, so Zhu Yaya showed her her October monthly exam results, guaranteeing she would still rank in the top three of her grade in the upcoming November exams.
Zhu Jianjun agreed. With a worried look at Yan Heng in the distance, he said, "Stay with him properly! You must help him pull through!"
"Mm," Zhu Yaya nodded in agreement.
Mother Yan was taken to be cremated. Before she was placed into the furnace, Yan Heng brought his father Yan Shaohua's black jacket from home and laid it over her body.
Zhu Yaya watched, wide-eyed, as that once full-sized person was reduced by the flames to a basin of ashes.
Because Mother Yan's death was so sudden, Monday's funeral was very simple.
The day was overcast, a large dark cloud hanging overhead, the temperature noticeably lower than before. Very few people came, all police officers dressed in black. One aunt wept loudly; Zhu Jianjun said she was also the widow of a narcotics officer. Zhu Yaya wondered, was she crying for Mother Yan, or for herself?
Mother Yan was buried beside the grave of Father Yan, Yan Shaohua.
Yan Heng remained kneeling woodenly before the tombstone. As time passed, people slowly left. They wiped the tears from their faces and returned to the hustle and bustle of survival; the sorrow and grief brought by Mother Yan's death were smoothed over by time in an instant. But when would Yan Heng's grief be soothed?
By noon, only Zhu Yaya's family remained at the graveside. Soon after, Zhao Jing received a call from the hospital and hurried away. Zhu Jianjun patted Zhu Yaya's shoulder, told her to comfort Yan Heng, and went off himself to buy groceries to prepare lunch for their family and Yan Heng.
In the end, only Zhu Yaya was left by Yan Heng's side. Yan Heng was no longer kneeling; he had stood up, head bowed, staring fixedly at the tombstone.
Just then, it began to snow. It was the first snow of the capital's winter this year. A heavy snowfall. Snowflakes drifted down densely, layer upon layer, not hurriedly, but thickly.
Zhu Yaya, a southerner before transmigrating into this book, had rarely seen snow like this. In the south, it was mostly a sparse, sleety kind of snow. There, even a tiny flurry brought immense joy, but now, seeing these goose-feather-like snowflakes, not a hint of happiness showed on her face.
She lifted her head. The gloomy sky, the pure white snow, the quiet cemetery—the whole scene combined like a richly toned ink wash painting, yet it inexplicably evoked a sense of desolation in her heart. A few snowflakes landed on Zhu Yaya's face and quickly melted.
Looking at this first snow, Zhu Yaya suddenly recalled a similar scene in "The Overbearing Him, The Pure Love": When the winter's first snow had accumulated a bit, Murong Beichen would arrange bright red roses on the pure white snow and confess his feelings to Xu Chun again in front of many classmates. Under the envious gazes of the crowd, Xu Chun, though refusing with a cold face, felt a flutter in her heart.
"Congratulations on successfully unlocking the tenth task. Please proceed to the first floor of the Diligence Building at Scott High School now to witness Murong Beichen's first-snow confession to Xu Chun and observe the drama." It was the system's prompt.
The first snow had just begun. If Zhu Yaya took a taxi, she could absolutely make it in time, successfully witness the scene, and receive the reward.
But, Zhu Yaya looked up at Yan Heng, his eyes vacant, his soul seemingly lost. For once, the usually task-enthusiastic her had no desire to complete this mission.
She stepped forward and hugged Yan Heng, her arms wrapping around his slender waist.
"Yan Heng," she buried her head in his chest, her voice muffled, "I'll always be with you!"
Yan Heng finally showed a reaction. His voice was terribly hoarse, carrying a hollow bewilderment: "Yaya, I have no home anymore."
Hearing this, Zhu Yaya felt her heart fill with sorrow. "Aren't I still here? I'll always be with you!"
Then, she felt Yan Heng return her embrace. Not as forceful as yesterday, his movements were gentle, as if holding something fragile.
In Zhu Yaya's mind at this moment, the system's cold, mechanical voice kept ringing incessantly—
"Please proceed to Scott High School immediately to complete the observation task."
"Your current reserve lifespan is zero, reserve RMB is zero. Please complete the observation task promptly to obtain the reward."
"Go complete the task!"
...
It seemed to have guessed her reluctance towards this task, its tone growing increasingly agitated.
Zhu Yaya responded in her mind, "I'm not going for this task."
"Why?"
"Someone needs me more." For Murong Beichen and Xu Chun, she was just a stranger observing their drama, but for Yan Heng, she was his only companion.
The system finally fell silent and logged off.
She didn't want to go anywhere. She only wanted to stay with Yan Heng, to help this youth who made her heart ache emerge from the shadows.
"Yaya," Yan Heng spoke as if he had been gathering his emotions for a long time, "I am an ill-fated person. My parents left me, and anyone who gets close to me will..."
Understanding his meaning, Zhu Yaya interrupted him. "You are not. Every time I've felt helpless, it was you who appeared first and found me. So,"
Zhu Yaya lifted her head again, her eyes filled with seriousness, looking directly into Yan Heng's eyes. "In my eyes, meeting you is my fortune. You are my guardian."
Yan Heng looked down into Zhu Yaya's clear eyes, brimming with sincerity, and felt a tremor in his heart. No one had ever said such a thing to him before.
Zhu Yaya gently stroked his back. "You truly are a very, very good person. None of this was caused by you. It's not your fault."
Yan Heng was someone with a strong sense of responsibility, which was precisely why he blamed himself for everything, then tortured himself relentlessly, constantly applying pressure to his own spirit and psyche. This could easily lead to a mental breakdown. So, Zhu Yaya hoped he wouldn't always silently bear everything alone.
In the swirling heavy snow, before the sparsely populated cemetery tombstones, they stood quietly embracing like this, without even an umbrella, letting the snowflakes fall upon them.
Time itself seemed to linger here, a world held in silent reverence, utterly hushed. Even the falling snowflakes descended in perfect silence.
