At the End of the World (3)
During the first month of the lunar year, Tan Guhong was idly staying at home. With nothing better to do, she went to a high school class reunion.
She had never attended class reunions before. Everyone knew that, from childhood onward, she had been determined to join the military. Yet in the end, she had dropped out of school once and left the military twice. Given where she was now, seeing old friends again was simply too embarrassing.
But this reunion was somewhat different. It was for the senior year class she had repeated after dropping out of the Air Force Academy. She had only been there for four or five months, and during that time, she had been utterly unmotivated about her studies, taciturn, and barely noticeable at all.
She had originally thought that, at this reunion, no one would speak to her or take any notice of her from beginning to end, and perhaps no one would even recognize her. Who could have guessed that not only did quite a few people recognize her, they were also exceptionally warm, chatting and striking up conversations with her, leaving her completely baffled.
“Maybe you don’t know this yourself, but you really were the girl we talked about the most after lights-out in the boys’ dormitory back then.”
Her former classmate and old class monitor, Cheng Haoran, came over and smiled as he cleared up her confusion.
“Why?”
“Because…” Cheng Haoran pondered for a moment, unsure how to put it, and finally gave a faint smile. “Maybe because you were always rather mysterious.”
Their class was a key class at one of the top schools. Just before the final push toward the college entrance examination, a transfer student had suddenly joined them, and according to the rumors, she was a repeat senior who had dropped out of a military academy. Before Tan Guhong even came to school, rumors had already been flying everywhere. Many of the boys, with ill intentions, speculated that she must be some burly, hot-tempered girl, built like a Titan or a Vajra.
But when Tan Guhong actually appeared, everyone was utterly taken aback. She was, unexpectedly, such a tall and slender girl, with delicate features and a handsome, striking appearance. Unfortunately, the expression on her face was always cold and gloomy, keeping everyone at arm’s length. She slept during class and slept between classes, always alone, and no one dared approach her. Yet, strangely enough, the teachers turned a blind eye to it.
Her family background, her identity, her experiences, and the reason she had been expelled became an endlessly popular topic in the boys’ dormitory after lights-out. Those bored boys, their adolescent restlessness and hormones with nowhere to go, even made private bets over who would dare be the first to speak to her.
Cheng Haoran had not taken part in their pointless bet. He simply could not stand seeing Tan Guhong treat her studies with such an indifferent, unmotivated attitude. As the class monitor, he felt that he had a responsibility and an obligation to urge her along.
When he first went to talk to her, he had already mentally prepared himself to be rebuffed and ignored. What he had never expected, however, was that she was surprisingly easy to talk to. She was nothing like the arrogant, overbearing, contemptuous person the rumors had made her out to be. She simply rejected, without the slightest hesitation, his suggestion that he help tutor her.
But he was not discouraged. He went to find her again and again, forcing her to copy his notes, helping her with her homework, and correcting her exercises. At one point, even some gossip began circulating around the class, but he kept telling himself that this was merely an advanced student helping a struggling one, and that he was simply fulfilling his duty as class monitor.
Looking back now, that flimsy excuse was truly as ridiculous as it could possibly be. Apart from fooling himself, it had never served any other purpose.
“You must have been really annoyed with me back then, right?” Cheng Haoran said with a hint of self-mockery.
“Yeah. I’d never seen a class monitor who loved helping people so much!” Tan Guhong smiled and sighed. “But I have to thank you. Back then, I really wasn’t putting my mind to studying. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have gotten into BFSU either.”
Cheng Haoran knew perfectly well that she was only being polite. Given her family background, she had never needed to make a living through getting into college in the first place. He could not help shaking his head with a bitter smile.
“Anyway, I owe you an apology.”
“Don’t say that. Actually, I’m the one who owes you.”
The two of them simultaneously remembered the awkward incident that had happened when they parted ways over the Ecuador project the previous year, and for a moment, they looked at each other in silence.
Tan Guhong let out a soft sigh and said sincerely,
“I meant it. I really did.”
She had once thought that by the time a person reached their twenties, they were already an adult and no longer needed to grow. That the experiences of the preceding twenty-odd years would be enough to prepare them for the long five or six decades of life ahead. She had prided herself on having seen all there was to see in the world, on having endured sorrow and suffering, on never again making mistakes in dealing with people, on having all her emotions and desires firmly under control.
Only later did she understand that, as long as a person remained alive, the unknown and the unexpected were endless and stretched on without limit, while pain and suffering followed close behind like a shadow.
At the time, after all, they were young. Separation and death, love and hatred, all seemed distant and weightless.
Tan Guhong raised a hand and gently patted Cheng Haoran on the shoulder.
“I hope you find the other half of your orange.”
…
In March, Tan Guhong accompanied Liao Rongguang to Shenyang.
More than half a century ago, during the arduous and momentous War to Resist US Aggression and Aid Korea, countless Chinese soldiers risked their lives and died heroically. Several years ago, China and South Korea finally reached an agreement, and the South Korean side planned to return the remains of the Chinese People’s Volunteer Army martyrs buried in Korea to China in batches, so that these soldiers who had been buried far from home could finally return to their homeland, their roots.
So far, the two sides had already carried out several handover operations, and each time, Liao Rongguang personally came to the Shenyang Anti-American Aggression and Aid Korea Martyrs Cemetery to welcome these old comrades home.
Northeastern China in early spring still carried the biting chill of ice and snow not yet fully melted. On the day of the handover ceremony, the sky was even more heavily overcast, with rain and snow falling together.
At nine in the morning, the Chinese side received the special flight at Shenyang Taoxian International Airport, carrying the martyrs’ remains all the way from South Korea. Afterward, the coffins were transported by hearse, escorted by ceremonial guards, to the Shenyang Anti-American Aggression and Aid Korea Martyrs Cemetery. There, descendants of the Volunteers and veterans who had traveled from all over the country had already been waiting in the rain for quite some time.
As the solemn, resounding national anthem rang out, the burial ceremony proceeded in an orderly manner.
A moment of silence. Bows. A rifle salute. The raising of the coffins.
Liao Rongguang declined the special seating offered to him by the relevant authorities. As always, he put on the old military uniform covered with his military medals, sat in his wheelchair, and placed himself among the families of the martyrs and the veterans who had taken part in the war, chrysanthemums in their hands and black mourning bands wrapped around their arms. Amid the wind and snow, he watched as the coffins containing the martyrs’ remains were carried into the burial chamber, then solemnly raised his hand in salute.
The melodious, lingering notes of the trumpet in Song of Longing (思念曲) remained suspended over the cemetery for a long, long time, and likewise lingered tenderly in the hearts of everyone present.
Tan Guhong stood behind her grandfather, able to clearly see the tears in his eyes.
It was a promise and a vigil that had spanned half a century.
You left sixty years ago, and tonight, at last, you have returned home.
…
That night, Liao Rongguang developed a persistent high fever and was admitted to the hospital in critical condition.
Although the group had made every possible preparation for this trip, they still could not withstand the onslaught of illness. Though Liao Rongguang looked strong and had never been one to admit defeat, in truth, his body had long been riddled with injuries and illness. He was suffering from multiple cancers, and the fact that he had held on for so many years was entirely due to sheer force of will.
This time, the illness came on fiercely. The doctors told the family to prepare themselves psychologically.
After several days in the hospital, Liao Rongguang was rushed to the ICU for emergency treatment several times. His condition remained unstable, and he was unable to be transferred back to Beijing. Tan Guhong and her aunt stayed at the hospital the entire time, taking turns keeping him company.
In the early hours of this night, Tan Guhong inexplicably woke from her sleep and tossed and turned, unable to fall back asleep. In fact, she had been sleeping very little these days, only three or four hours a night. Her nerves were stretched taut, yet she was not sleepy in the slightest.
She got up to pour herself a glass of water, then came to sit beside Liao Rongguang’s hospital bed. Looking at the various medical machines operating around him, and at the tubes of all sizes inserted into her grandfather’s body, she stared and stared. It felt as though a giant hand had clenched around her stomach, making her unbearably uncomfortable.
She bent down and carefully lay against the edge of the hospital bed, pressing her forehead against her grandfather’s body, trying to draw even the slightest bit of warmth from him.
The hospital room was utterly silent. The only sound was the machines beeping, sometimes a little faster, sometimes a little slower, their incessant calls making her heart feel uneasy.
Suddenly, a hand gently came to rest on the crown of her head.
Tan Guhong froze, then raised her head and called softly,
“Grandpa?”
She saw that Liao Rongguang, who had been unconscious for so long, had opened his eyes and was looking at her with affection.
“Grandpa, how are you feeling? Do you need me to call the doctor?”
“No need. I don’t hurt anymore. Honghong, sit with Grandpa and talk for a while.”
Tan Guhong’s heart tightened, and she suddenly realized what he meant.
Liao Rongguang smiled and slowly began to speak, confirming her suspicions.
“I’m finally going to see your Grandma. I wonder if, after all these years, she’ll still recognize this old man of hers. And then there’s your oldest uncle, your mother, and all those comrades I had back then… When I think about it that way, it’s actually quite nice. I never believed in reincarnation my whole life, never believed in ghosts or gods. But in the end, I’ll believe just this once…”
Tan Guhong’s eyes stung with tears. At a loss, she said,
“Grandpa, don’t say that…”
Liao Rongguang shook his head. “Silly child, don’t be sad. Everyone has to face this day eventually. Grandpa has struggled back from the brink of life and death so many times. I’ve lived for so many years already. I’ve gotten my money’s worth. If there’s one thing I regret, it’s that I won’t be able to watch Honghong grow up any further.”
Tan Guhong held his hand and smiled through a choked voice.
“Grandpa, I’ve already grown up.”
“Who says? You’re still as stubborn and headstrong as you were when you were little.”
“That’s because I take after you.”
“That’s true, you take after me. But there are good things about taking after me, and bad things too. All the hardships and pain Grandpa has gone through, I don’t want Honghong to have to go through them all over again.”
Liao Rongguang sighed, gently caressed his granddaughter’s face, and asked with a smile,
“Honghong, now that you’ve come back from Singapore, is there something you’re hiding from Grandpa?”
Tan Guhong paused and lowered her eyes.
“Nothing gets past you.”
“Tell Grandpa. Grandpa won’t tell anyone.”
Tan Guhong was silent for a long while. Then she bent down and lay against the side of the hospital bed, saying softly,
“Grandpa, I’ve fallen for someone.”
“Really?” Liao Rongguang’s voice carried a smile, yet he did not sound surprised. “Looks like Honghong really has grown up. What kind of young man is he?”
“He… he’s not Chinese. He’s not a good person. I don’t even know whether he’s still alive. And yet, somehow, I’ve become completely bewitched and fallen for him.”
Tan Guhong gave a self-mocking smile. “Grandpa, does that mean I’m not a good girl?”
Perhaps she had been a bad child all along, arrogant and conceited, believing herself the center of the world, doing things her own way, always striving to win. No amount of rules and restrictions could suppress the unruly rebelliousness in her bones. The slightest lapse in vigilance, and she would be tempted into falling into an abyss without end, doomed forever with no way back.
“Who says that? Our Honghong has always been a good girl.” Liao Rongguang looked at her with loving indulgence. “Even if you were a bad girl, so what? Who says you have to be a good girl? Grandpa has told you before, as long as you’re happy, as long as you’re joyful, whatever you do, Grandpa will support you.”
“Honghong, go do whatever you want to do. Grandpa will never blame you.”
Those were the last words Liao Rongguang ever said to Tan Guhong.
Afterward, he fell unconscious once again. The figures on the monitors began sounding alarms, and the doctors rushed in to resuscitate him, but in the end, they were unable to wrest him back from the hands of death.
At five-thirty in the morning, when the sky was just beginning to lighten, Liao Rongguang stopped breathing.
The most courageous soldier of this republic, Tan Guhong’s beloved Grandpa, the person in this world who had loved her most dearly, was gone forever.
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