When Luo Ling stepped onto the path so familiar it was almost a part of him, heading toward the Home that carried half a lifetime of memories, night had already spread across the sky like ink.
In the distance, the warm yellow glow from his own window shone out, unchanged from countless evenings before.
It should have been a comforting guide, but now it was like a heavy stone sinking into his heart.
Yet the suffocating pressure in the air felt like an invisible net, suddenly tightening around his chest.
He unconsciously slowed his steps, each footfall thudding heavily with his pounding heartbeat.
Eve, keenly sensing the sudden chill in his presence, gently touched his arm, her voice soft as the night wind over grass.
“Luo Ling, maybe you should go in first. I’ll wait outside.”
Her eyes were filled with worry and understanding.
Luo Ling looked at her gratefully, a thousand words in a single glance.
He took a deep breath, trying to press down the surge of anxiety in his chest.
Then he slowly pushed open the familiar wooden door, marked with the scars of time.
“Creaaak——”
The turning of the door hinge was harsh in the silent night.
Inside, the light was dim and flickering, stretching shadows long and thin across the room.
The faint scent of herbs and something heavier, almost suffocating, hung in the air.
Usually, this place was filled with Granny Wang’s laughter and the smell of food, warm and lively.
Now, every face was written with sorrow, as if covered in a layer of cold frost.
Luo Ling’s gaze searched desperately among the shifting figures, hope bordering on despair.
Finally, like a magnet, it fixed on the Bed in the center.
Granny Wang lay there quietly, covered by her favorite blue floral Shroud.
Her expression was peaceful, as if she were only in a deep sleep, about to open her eyes and call his name with a smile.
But Luo Ling knew it wasn’t sleep.
His steps grew unsteady, as if walking on clouds or through mud, each movement painfully heavy.
He forced himself toward Granny Wang’s Bed, every step a passage through a dark and endless tunnel.
Everything around him blurred, leaving only the Bed and the person upon it.
Hunter Old Ha, Bakery owner Aunt Martha, Lina from next door, the Old Blacksmith from the Village… familiar faces from daily life.
Now, they all stood in silence, making way with eyes full of sympathy, regret, and deep sorrow.
No one could find words of comfort.
At this moment, language was powerless.
“Luo Ling……”
Aunt Martha broke the silence first, her voice choked as if something heavy blocked her throat.
She wanted to say something.
But in the end, it became only a heavy sigh, tears falling silently.
Luo Ling didn’t respond. All his senses were fixed on the Bed.
He knelt beside Granny Wang, the coldness of the floor numbing his knees.
He reached out— a hand that had once wielded a sword, chopped wood, repaired roofs—
Now, it trembled uncontrollably as he gently, as if afraid to disturb her, held Granny Wang’s already cold and stiff hand.
Those hands had once been so warm and strong, mending his clothes, bringing him hot soup, brushing dust from his shoulders.
Now, they were cold and thin, stripped of all warmth and life.
At the touch of that chill, Luo Ling’s eyes went red, as if filled with blood.
But the tears he expected didn’t fall.
They seemed frozen in his eyes by overwhelming grief, burning hot and refusing to drop.
His tears had dried up the moment he opened the door and saw the Bed, sinking into his heart and forming a cold sea.
Only an empty, crushing sorrow remained, spreading from his heart and flooding his body until he could barely breathe.
He could only hold that cold hand, as if trying to give her his own warmth, or simply hold on to this last fading connection.
“Grandma…you…”
Luo Ling’s voice was hoarse and low, a call from the deepest part of his soul.
He remembered countless days spent with Granny Wang—warm afternoons, quiet words by the fire, laughter in the fields—flashing through his mind like a movie.
“Luo Ling, Granny Wang…she passed peacefully.”
The Old Blacksmith’s voice was low and heavy, shattering the suffocating silence.
Luo Ling slowly stood, looking around at the villagers who had always felt like family, his heart overflowing with unspeakable emotion.
Though Granny Wang had gone, the love and warmth she left behind remained, rooting and growing in this land, nourishing everyone.
“Thank you, everyone.”
Luo Ling’s voice was steady and strong.
Even though Grandma was gone, her teachings and love would forever remain in his heart.
***
In the days that followed, Luo Ling began arranging Granny Wang’s Funeral.
The villagers all helped, giving what money or strength they could to hold a simple but dignified Funeral for the kind old woman.
At the Funeral, Luo Ling didn’t cry.
His eyes held only determination and resolve.
After the Funeral, Luo Ling returned Home and sat alone in Granny Wang’s room.
Everything remained as it had been, as if she had only stepped out and would return at any moment.
Looking at Granny Wang’s Relic, Luo Ling silently swore to live well, not to betray her hopes.
At that moment, Eve walked in quietly.
She saw Luo Ling sitting in silence, pain in her eyes.
“Luo Ling, don’t be too sad. Even though Granny Wang is gone, she’d want you to live well.”
Eve said softly.
Luo Ling looked up at Eve, gratitude flickering in his eyes.
“Eve, thank you. I know Grandma always wanted me to become someone useful. From now on, I’ll live for myself—and for Grandma. And about you…”
He paused.
Eve smiled and nodded.
“Luo Ling, I believe in you. No matter what difficulties come, I’ll always stay with you.”