The small boy watched the grave in silence after announcing his return.
Tears kept flowing with no sign of stopping, as if a dam that had been held back for years was finally released.
As the sobbing continued, more emotion began to enrich his expressionless face, as if a corpse had suddenly come back to life.
The corners of his lips lifted slowly into a happy, reassuring smile.
But with the flowing tears and the complex emotions in his eyes—grief, joy, sorrow, exhaustion, and loss—the smile looked pitiful and lonely in the darkness.
After a minute he opened his mouth, and the words came out more smoothly this time, as if seeing the grave had restored his memory quickly.
“Hong Xing… I’m sorry… I’m late.” Hong Xing (Red Star / Hóngxīng / 红星) was the name engraved on the gravestone.
From her birth to her death, she had lived eighty-one years.
After standing and watching the grave for some time, the boy walked over, sat down, and lay down, resting his head where the owner of the grave’s thighs would have been.
“From my memory, you were this tall… here is where your lap should be.” His voice was more lively now, showing a change from his previous near-dead mental state.
He waited after speaking, but unfortunately, that reply didn’t come from his memory.
He always used to get it whenever Hong Xing’s height was mentioned, whether positively or as a joke.
‘My height is normal, damn you,’ the voice and image in his mind played automatically, as he had wanted.
“I know, I know… it’s not like I said… anything else,” he replied again to his memory, with a smile and flowing tears.
Even though he had told her many times that he liked her height, she still didn’t like people mentioning it.
“Hey… Xing Er… I’ve missed you so much.” He tried to speak quickly, but unfortunately his response was still weak.
This wasn’t just poor speech; it was like someone who hadn’t spoken for decades to the point of forgetting the language, how to talk, and how to form certain sounds through his throat and vocal cords.
This time no reply came from his memory.
He didn’t want it to, not like last time.
Not now, at least.
“I said… I would come back quickly… but I lied… I made you wait for me all this time…” Still no reply came.
“Do you remember how… we met for the first time?
I was eighteen… back then, and you were one year younger… and now time flies…” A child speaking about being eighteen sounded strange, but there was no one listening except a group of gravestones.
“My little supernova… I’m sorry.
I wasn’t worthy of the promise to grow old together until death.” As he kept talking and his memory returned, his speech became smoother, and so did his thinking.
“We met and talked over the communicator for the first time.
At that time… you asked me to sing for you as a joke, but… I actually did it, which shocked you, heh heh.” His way of speaking was like someone recalling memories—suddenly jumping from one topic to another, one memory leading to another endlessly until snapping out of the reverie.
“You didn’t mock my shabby clothes on our first meeting.” He kept talking, uncaring.
He had already sunk into his memories.
But suddenly his expression changed to anger, and he began punching his face hard with one hand while striking the walkway tiles with the other.
“Not now, not now!” It was an episode of what he called the ‘trance’—an ability that had pleased him before he left the cave, but not now.
As the punching continued violently, the sound of cracking was heard as the fingers of his fist and the knuckles broke, blood flowing from them, and his face was cut by his left fist.
But thanks to this light pain, the light, involuntary trance episode stopped.
What looked like threads of deep amethyst color appeared from his left fist, where the bleeding stopped, the wounds healed, flesh regrew, and the fractures set in seconds.
The same thing happened to his face.
As if he hadn’t just broken his hand or torn his face, he leaned back onto Hong Xing’s ‘lap’ again and said, “Sorry for this ugly scene, but I didn’t want to waste your precious time with me because of a stupid trance.” His speech was no longer strange now.
After recovering a good amount of his memories from talking to Hong Xing, grammar and how to use it had finally reappeared in his mind.
Then he continued his delirious-like talk.
“Heh, that time you almost died from falling out of a tree for the fourth time in one week.
Tsk, you’re like a suicide addict…” “Yes, yes, I’m a quiet streetlamp who doesn’t get mad at you, so stop trying…” “…Yeah, that time the cat I was raising died because it fought other cats over a female cat and ended up dying with them under a car.
Females are really exhausting.” ‘What?!’ “I mean animals, not you… well, humans too, but not you.
You’re special.” In his memory, that short girl, 1.52 meters tall, stood up, raised her head proudly, and said, ‘That’s right, I’m the only one of my kind among all women, so you have to stay with me and only me, got it?!’ “Hahaha.” A distorted laugh flowed from his mouth with that memory.
The tears had stopped flowing long ago, and with them the traces on his face.
The sun was now nearing the middle of the sky, showing how long he had been talking to the grave.
At the same time, the emotions on his face faded again.
He was now certain that his memories had truly become a distant past.
His feelings sank deep into his eyes, and the dead man’s eyes returned, becoming deeper and more unsettling than before.
Suddenly a new memory flashed into his mind, making his dead eyes light up.
He grabbed the big bag beside him and sat up from his lying position—it was so sudden that a poor lady passing nearby was startled and felt a bit scared, thinking he was a ghost.
With a new, sudden smile, he opened the zipper, took out a shirt, and showed it to the grave, smiling.
“Look, my dear, the clothes you sewed for me are still intact after 130 years, the bag too.
Heh heh, originally I was going to leave thirty years ago, but because I tried to preserve what you gave me, it took another thirty years.
But it was worth it, right?
Thirty years for a part of you with me…” As he spoke, he kept taking out pants, a suit, and other things, but all were for an adult, tall person.
He folded each piece carefully and gently, then put it back with a soft touch, as if afraid a single thread would break.
But even with this, his eyes dulled again and the emotions on his face faded once more, especially after mentioning the thirty years.
Tears flowed again.
Clearly, his mental state was unstable in front of Hong Xing’s grave.
As for what happened?
It seemed he wasn’t interested in explaining, or was just avoiding it… And so the talk with the grave continued—sometimes laughing happily and gesturing with his hands, then suddenly his body would stop and sadness and fear would return, starting to cry again.
Until evening came and the sun was an hour from setting.
He was still lying in the grave’s lap, uncaring of time.
He didn’t seem like someone who hadn’t eaten for two days, nor had he even relieved himself.
Of course, no one noticed this; people around him came to visit the dead and wouldn’t focus on a child who looked like he had health problems.
Footsteps approached the row of graves he was in, then stopped behind him, casting the person’s shadow over him and the gravestone from the setting sun.
“Who are you, little one?
Do you know my grandmother?” the owner of the shadow spoke from behind him.
It was an old voice, but not that of a frail elder.
The one lying on the grave didn’t care about the first question, but at the second, his body stiffened and the words stopped coming from his mouth.
He turned his head slowly to look properly, and before his eyes was an old man who looked to be in his seventies, but his body didn’t seem weak, and he could still walk on his own without a cane.
That was probably due to advances in technology and medicine.
He didn’t answer because his brain was already busy with his own questions.
‘Did he just say ‘grandmother’?
Is he Hong Xing’s grandson?
Did she marry after I disappeared?
Who is he?
No!
Impossible!
I’ll ask this kid here to find out!
No, no, I have to calm down or the seals will lose control!
One, two, three…’ His mind, which had barely regained itself a little, was almost overwhelmed by a single question again.
“You haven’t answered me yet, little one.
It’s rude to ignore your elders.
I’ve never seen you before, and you’re definitely not family.
But you’re sitting here talking to my grandmother’s grave.
How do you know her?
Or could you have the wrong grave?” The old man continued asking more questions, and from his questions, he seemed like a kind person trying to help the child rather than kicking him away and yelling at him.
But what the poor old man didn’t know was that the child, who looked like a vagabond to him, was seriously considering whether he should kill him.
‘He said it again!
He said ‘grandmother’ again!
Should I just kill him?!
No!
Information, yes, information from him.’ As his emotions worsened, amethyst-colored veins hidden inside his body appeared at his will.
But because of the time and the reflection of light, the old man didn’t notice this faint color.
‘I have to stop!
I won’t use his power!
But I used it to heal earlier… No, that was just so I wouldn’t look ugly in front of Hong Xing!’ The psychological struggle raged in the small boy’s mind, but in the end, he managed to suppress his dark thoughts and said to the waiting old man, “Your grandmother?
Are you Hong Xing’s grandson?” He tried to make his speech calm and polite, more like a normal human, but unfortunately his voice still lacked vitality, and the dead man’s eyes reappeared as his emotions calmed.
The elder was shocked by the question.
The child in front of him had called Hong Xing by her name so rudely, and had even ignored all his questions and replied with a question.
But he studied him while waiting for an answer, and from his clothes and bag, which seemed to be all his possessions, he guessed he was a vagabond or a child who had run away from an orphanage.
So he thought for a moment, then decided to answer the question under the scrutiny of those dead eyes.
“No, my grandmother Hong Xing never had children and never married.
I’m the grandson of her younger sister, Hong Chuan.
Her grave is nearby too—she died two years after her older sister.” ‘He’s not her grandson.
She didn’t have children, didn’t marry… didn’t marry?
Didn’t marry??
Then who am I?
Hong Chuan, that annoying little girl, is she gone too?’ As he thought this, tears flowed again uncontrollably.
“Ah?
Why are you crying suddenly?
Did you remember a close relative who died?
Sorry, I didn’t mean to.
Come on, tell me why you’re here and how you know Grandma Hong Xing.
Oh, my name is Hong Yuan—you can call me Grandpa Yuan.” Hong Yuan skillfully changed the subject; it was clear he was good at soothing small children.
Unfortunately, the one in front of him was not an ordinary small child.
Ignoring Hong Yuan’s attempt to soothe his emotions, the child kept watching him with his dead eyes before saying, “Then why do you call her your grandmother?” “Do you know you’re rude, you brat?” But this time no reply came; instead, Hong Yuan furrowed his brows and his smiling face became more serious.
No answer came from the one sitting, but a yellow ring rose slowly behind him, and the pressure of a Soul Master spread from him.
His dead eyes glowed dark blue as he watched him.
Hong Yuan’s expression changed from annoyance to shock as he saw this.
The child in front of him was a Soul Master, and a Soul Master with a hundred-year ring worth one million federal credits.
Although he wasn’t a Soul Master himself, his family had produced some, so he knew a few details about them.
He now knew the child could kill him—even a child with a single spirit ring would be physically stronger than an adult without one.
But what he couldn’t understand more was who this child was, looking like a vagabond but actually a Soul Master, and why he was sitting at the grave of someone dead for 73 years.
Under the watch of the Soul Master’s eyes, Hong Yuan the old man could only sigh and say, “Haah, being a Soul Master doesn’t mean you can wander around and be rude to your elders.
That’s not good manners; it’ll only reflect badly on your family’s reputation.” Hong Yuan tried to guide the boy’s manners.
“I’m an orphan with no family.” The reply came, striking him mercilessly.
Hong Yuan’s expression froze before turning into an awkward smile.
“Ahem, sorry for mentioning that, but you don’t get a yellow spirit ring out of thin air, so you must have someone.
Now tell me, how do you know Grandma Hong Xing?” The child shifted his eyes from Hong Yuan to Hong Xing’s gravestone, as if trying to see something from it, but unfortunately got nothing.
Without turning, he said slowly, “My teacher sent me… He said I had to see what she was like and ask about her if I found her family.” His answer was full of flaws.
For example, why come to the cemetery after all these years?
How old was his teacher to have known his grandmother?
Why not go to their family home and instead talk to a silent grave?
And what kind of teacher dresses their child like a vagabond?!
All these questions came to his mind as he watched the child in front of him, who started crying again but with a smile this time.
He didn’t seem to be in his right mind, to the old man.
From his inconsistent answer, it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it.
So he didn’t try to dig deeper and began guiding the conversation gradually, hoping he’d understand after answering some of his questions.
“What’s your name, first of all?
I can’t keep calling you ‘kid’ forever, and then I’ll answer all your questions.” Saying this, Hong Yuan sat down beside him and waited for his answer.
The spirit ring behind him faded, his eyes dimmed, and they returned to the dead man’s eyes from before.
A minute passed, and Hong Yuan didn’t know what to say, but from the child’s expression beside him, he was thinking.
What did he need to think about just for a name?
But he didn’t know there was a struggle in the child’s mind right now.
‘A name?
My name?
What was it?
I’ve forgotten.
I don’t want to remember.
I’m dead now.
No need to use something from an old dead man.
A name… right, Mo (莫 Mo)… Ji (寂 Jì)… Wu (无 Wú).
Yes, Mo Ji Wu.
I am Mo Ji Wu now.’ And so, while Hong Yuan waited, Mo Ji Wu opened his mouth and said, “My name is Mo Ji Wu.” Hearing the answer, shock appeared on the old man’s face.
What kind of person would give a child such a name?
The literal meaning of the name is ‘silence negated in nothingness’ or ‘absolute silence beyond which there is nothing’—dead, silent void.
All these meanings imply solitude, ruin, despair, and death.
Usually, most names are about something joyful, beautiful, or overpowering, even from animals or natural scenery, but this deadly name was rare.
In fact, this was the first time he’d heard such a name.
“Mo Ji Wu, you say?
Who gave you that name?
What a strange name for a child!” he asked immediately, reacting without thinking.
“That doesn’t matter.
Will you answer my questions now?” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Mr_Door_1368 حسنا حسنا حسنا الآن هذا جيد