Chapter 30

Upon hearing the contents of the call, Jiang Ji was momentarily stunned, his brows furrowing slowly. “What did you say?”

“Please come to the funeral home,” the voice on the other end said, “This matter needs to be discussed with you in person.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Jiang Ji’s hand holding the phone suspended in the air, motionless for a long while.

Looking at the darkened screen of his phone, he felt a sense of disbelief.

The police station, the funeral home, Jiang Keyuan’s body…

What did it all mean? Was Jiang Keyuan dead? Or was this just a scam call?

For a moment, Jiang Ji didn’t know how to react, until Qin Qingzhuo called his name, bringing him back to his senses.

He pocketed his phone, forgetting about the guitar, and turned to walk downstairs. Qin Qingzhuo picked up the guitar leaning against the wall and followed him down.

Not only did this phone call leave Jiang Ji stunned for quite some time, even Ma San and his two lackeys were bewildered, standing there staring at each other. Seeing Jiang Ji go downstairs, the three of them immediately followed suit.

Jiang Ji’s strides were long as he quickly crossed the ground floor and stepped out of the bar.

A motorcycle was parked against the side wall of the bar. He walked over, took out the key to unlock it, and was about to push the bike, but he didn’t. He lowered his head and found that the rear wheel of the motorcycle was chained to a nearby pipe with a thick and heavy iron chain.

It must have been Ma San’s doing. Frustrated, Jiang Ji gripped the handlebars and tried to pull the bike outward with force, causing the pipe to shake. However, the bike remained securely locked, and he cursed under his breath, “F*ck.”

Qin Qingzhuo caught up and glanced at the motorcycle, making a quick decision. “Come on, ride in my car. Your current state isn’t suitable for riding.”

With no better option at the moment, Jiang Ji reluctantly agreed and walked with Qin Qingzhuo toward the car.

Ma San came out of the bar, cursing under his breath, “F*ck, what kind of trickery is this? Your dad died? You think just because he’s dead, you don’t have to pay back the money? Let me tell you, even if he’s dead, you still…”

Before he could finish his sentence, a black sedan swiftly drove out of Honglu Slope Street, drifting around a corner and disappearing without a trace, leaving behind the pungent smell of exhaust in the air.

Ma San waved his hand, “Let’s go, get in the car and follow them, let’s see what’s going on.”

Sitting in the back seat, Qin Qingzhuo looked worriedly at Jiang Ji beside him.

Jiang Ji kept his face turned towards the window, his furrowed brows and clenched jawline betraying his inner anxiety. The two long, slender hands, clenched together with such force, almost seemed like the protruding bones would pierce through the thin, pale skin.

Qin Qingzhuo didn’t know what role Jiang Ji’s father played in his life. Jiang Ji always kept his thoughts buried deep inside, refusing to reveal even a single word, so he couldn’t guess what impact this phone call had on Jiang Ji.

However, a nineteen-year-old youth would inevitably feel uneasy upon learning of his father’s death. This moment seemed inappropriate for anything to be said. Qin Qingzhuo lifted his hand and patted Jiang Ji’s arm with a comforting gesture.

Jiang Ji glanced at him sideways, and Qin Qingzhuo noticed that bloodshot veins had appeared in his clear eyes in just a few short minutes.

Turning his head to look out the window again, Jiang Ji’s hand reached into his pocket instinctively searching for cigarettes. Finding none, his inner agitation grew even more intense.

Only then did he remember that he hadn’t brought any cigarettes with him these past few days.

“Uncle Zhao,” he heard Qin Qingzhuo speak, addressing the driver, “Do you have any cigarettes on you?”

Qin Qingzhuo didn’t smoke regularly, so the driver, upon hearing this question, was momentarily surprised, but quickly replied, “Yes,” and pulled the car over to the side of the road, handing cigarettes and a lighter to the back seat.

Qin Qingzhuo took them and passed them to Jiang Ji beside him.

The driver couldn’t help but glance at the young man—Qin Qingzhuo disliked the smell of smoke, and he didn’t allow anyone to smoke in his car. However, today he made an exception for a mysterious youth.

As the car resumed its journey, Jiang Ji lowered the window, flicked the lighter, and lit the cigarette. He took a deep drag, gazing deeply outside.

The nicotine eased some of his agitation, but it was replaced by various conflicting thoughts—

Was the guy really dead?

Didn’t he show up a few days ago, shamelessly alive and kicking? It didn’t seem abnormal.

But if the phone call was fake, what was the point of such a scam?

Maybe he really died. He should have died a long time ago.

But if he’s dead, it’s all over.

But…

“But…” the word echoed in his mind, but the following thoughts seemed to be suddenly cut off.

But what? Jiang Ji couldn’t quite articulate it.

He exhaled a breath, and white smoke quickly drifted out of the car window, moving in the opposite direction of the car’s movement.

As one cigarette was finished, the car pulled up in front of the funeral home, and Qin Qingzhuo and Jiang Ji got out of the car from both sides.

At the entrance of the venue, two police officers were standing there smoking. They recognized the young man from the photo. “Jiang Ji?” The slightly younger female officer glanced at Qin Qingzhuo, perhaps recognizing him, her eyes showing some surprise, but she didn’t say anything.

Jiang Ji nodded.

“Come with me,” the older police officer extinguished his cigarette. “Are you two going in together?”

Qin Qingzhuo glanced at Jiang Ji, and as expected, Jiang Ji whispered softly, “I’ll go in alone.”

“If there’s anything, give me a call,” Qin Qingzhuo said to him.

Jiang Ji nodded and followed the two police officers into the venue.

The morgue was filled with the strong smell of disinfectant, but it couldn’t completely mask the foul odor of the corpse.

The police officer led Jiang Ji to a mortuary bed, and lifted the white cloth covering the body. “Is this your father, Jiang Keyuan?”

It wasn’t until Jiang Ji saw Jiang Keyuan lying in the mortuary room that he felt a bit of the reality sink in—that Jiang Keyuan had truly passed away.

Jiang Keyuan’s face was swollen and bruised, but he looked calm, far from the terrified appearance he usually had. And… Jiang Ji could even see a trace of his appearance from a dozen years ago.

Staring at him, Jiang Ji answered the officer’s question, “Yes.”

The officer glanced at Jiang Ji again. The young man’s face showed no expression, appearing almost calm.

Having seen too many scenes of people wailing over their loved ones’ bodies, the police officer was almost surprised by Jiang Ji’s composure, but he didn’t say anything. Following his duty, he explained the facts to Jiang Ji:

“At five o’clock this morning, we received a call from an eyewitness who said they saw someone jump into the Lu River. Because the witness couldn’t swim, and there was no one else around, they immediately reported it to the police. After the police arrived, it took six hours to recover the body. After a series of investigations, we finally confirmed the identity of the body as Jiang Keyuan.”

“Also, we found this in the deceased’s belongings.” The officer handed Jiang Ji a transparent evidence bag.

Jiang Ji took it, inside was a palm-sized photo, sealed in plastic, undamaged despite being soaked for a long time.

It was a family photo of three—Jiang Keyuan with a vigorous expression, one hand around his gentle and beautiful wife, and the other holding a son who bore some resemblance to himself.

The young police officer finally caught a hint of emotion from the boy’s rolling throat—something people do when suppressing their emotions.

“We’ve checked the surveillance footage, which is very clear, completely ruling out the possibility of homicide. After confirming his identity, we investigated some reasons for his suicide…” The police officer paused, seeming to find the next words difficult to articulate.

Jiang Ji looked at the photo in his hand, his voice slightly hoarse, “Go on.”

“Your father spent the entire night gambling in an underground gambling den the day before he committed suicide, losing all the savings he had, which amounted to over sixty thousand yuan. From what we understand, he had been doing various odd jobs for the past few years, and this sixty thousand yuan should have been his entire savings…” The officer shook his head. “Hard-earned money, all gone in one night. Most people wouldn’t be able to bear such a blow. The reason for his suicide may be directly related to this.”

After listening to what he said, Jiang Ji remained silent for a while.

Looking again at the photo in his hand, he suddenly let out a very light, cold laugh.

The police officer glanced at Jiang Ji and handed him the documents and a pen, “Take a look at the information on top. If the identity is confirmed, and there are no objections to the cause of death, you can sign.”

Jiang Ji took the pen and looked at the contents of the document. He recognized every word on it, but they refused to sink into his mind. After staring at it for a moment, he hastily signed his name at the bottom right corner of the document.

At the entrance of the funeral home, Qin Qingzhuo didn’t follow the instructions of the police officer to find a seat in the rest area and wait. Instead, he just stood at the entrance, pacing slowly and occasionally glancing inside the venue.

If he guessed correctly, the man Jiang Ji assaulted that evening was his father—how could he suddenly be dead?

And, what was the meaning behind those debt collectors saying that Jiang Ji’s “dad ran away, and mom died”? Did his mother pass away as well?

Indeed, he had only seen Jiang Ji and Jiang Bei living together; it didn’t seem like there was anyone else taking care of them.

Thinking about all this, Qin Qingzhuo heard footsteps coming from inside the funeral home. He raised his head and saw Jiang Ji coming out with the police.

Jiang Ji’s face still showed no expression, even calmer than when he went in.

“…Contact the funeral home staff for the cremation time yourself. However, there’s a time limit for storing bodies at the funeral home. Don’t delay too long. Take care of your father’s affairs as soon as possible. My condolences.” The police officer patted Jiang Ji’s back and walked closer, nodding at Qin Qingzhuo.

Jiang Ji didn’t look at Qin Qingzhuo, lowered his head slightly, and walked out of the funeral home by himself.

Qin Qingzhuo followed him, hesitatingly asked, “Jiang Ji, about your father…?”

“He committed suicide,” Jiang Ji said in a relaxed tone, as if talking about something unrelated to himself, “He’s fine.”

A few people, including Ma San, had been waiting nearby, watching the situation from a distance. Seeing Jiang Ji come out, Ma San asked tentatively, “What happened to your dad, is he really dead?”

“He’s dead, suicide. The body is lying inside,” Jiang Ji gestured towards the venue, “If you don’t believe it, go in and see for yourself.”

“Oh.” Ma San was a bit surprised and didn’t say anything further. He waited until Jiang Ji walked a bit ahead before asking again, “Can we go in and take a look?”

Jiang Ji ignored him and continued walking forward.

Seeing the indifferent but somehow unsettling expression on Jiang Ji’s face, Ma San felt that Jiang Ji wasn’t lying.

He didn’t follow up; with the target of their debt suddenly dead, he couldn’t make decisions and could only go back to discuss with the creditor who hired him before figuring out the next steps.

As he got into the car and sat down, Qin Qingzhuo turned his face to Jiang Ji and asked softly, “Back to the bar?”

Jiang Ji nodded.

Qin Qingzhuo didn’t know how to comfort Jiang Ji at this moment. He didn’t even know what Jiang Ji had experienced and what he was thinking.

Since he met Jiang Ji, this young man had always been like this, saying nothing, keeping everything to himself, having his own ideas about everything, and seeming indifferent to everything.

For example, now, Jiang Ji looked out the window with no expression on his face, his eyes filled with bloodshot veins, empty of any emotion.

The rare competitiveness on the basketball court this afternoon disappeared without a trace. Instead, his face clearly read “indifference,” “I don’t care,” and “wherever the hell I go, that’s it.”

Although Qin Qingzhuo accompanied Jiang Ji through such a dramatic change in life as “father’s suicide,” he couldn’t figure out the weight of this change in Jiang Ji’s life. And Jiang Ji didn’t open up to him about his thoughts on all of this.

Perhaps it would be better to speak out. Keeping one’s worries to oneself would only cause internal wounds.

“Jiang Ji,” Qin Qingzhuo carefully began, “Tell me about your dad.”

“There’s nothing to say.” Jiang Ji just brushed him off with this sentence, and beyond that, he had nothing else to say.

Qin Qingzhuo didn’t press further.

The car pulled up to the entrance of the Honglu Bar, and Qin Qingzhuo saw Jiang Ji’s hand reach for the door handle.

Jiang Ji didn’t say anything, but there were some things Qin Qingzhuo couldn’t ignore, like the cremation of the body, like the funeral. As an adult, handling such matters was always more experienced than a child.

He spoke again, “Jiang Ji, about your dad’s affairs… how do you plan to handle them?”

“What does his affairs have to do with me?” Jiang Ji seemed unwilling to discuss this matter and dropped this sentence before pushing open the car door and getting out.

Watching Jiang Ji enter the bar, Qin Qingzhuo leaned back in the rear seat, watching Jiang Ji’s figure disappear into the bar, and let out a soft sigh.

The driver turned to him for his opinion, “Mr. Qin, are we going home?”

Qin Qingzhuo responded with a “Yes.”

The car started and smoothly drove on the road. In his mind, Qin Qingzhuo inexplicably recalled the first time Jiang Ji sang on stage with his guitar, and those dreamy hums:

“Young people, carrying their bags,

Loneliness swells, no measure can contain,

Traveling to distant places, wandering everywhere,

The bumpy train, ah,

Carries so much silent panic

…”

He suddenly remembered something, opened his eyes, and looked at the repaired guitar he had placed on the passenger seat earlier.

Looking at the guitar that Jiang Ji never parted with, Qin Qingzhuo sighed once again.

TN

Children, never ever ever! Get into gambling. No matter how curious or lucky you think you are, don’t do it!