Having gotten an answer this time, Hong Yuan drifted for a moment in his memories before replying, “I’m old now, and I was only a child back then.
My memory isn’t what it used to be, but I still remember the important parts.
You can ask whatever you want, Mo Jiwu.” At the end, he said the name strangely, as if he didn’t like it or couldn’t quite accept it.
Mo Jiwu’s question came immediately: “Then why do you call her ‘Grandma’?” “And why shouldn’t I?
She was my real grandmother’s sister.
She treated all of us kids well when we were young—taught us patiently and kindly, and always gave us delicious snacks.
She was a great cook.” “That’s right.
Her food was amazing,” Mo Jiwu agreed right away.
“How would you know?
You only look nine,” the old man asked, puzzled.
“It doesn’t matter.
Keep going.
So all the grandchildren of her generation call her Grandma?” “Right.
Grandma Hong Xing had no children of her own, so she treated the family’s kids like they were hers.
She never turned any of us away, and her door was always open.
That’s why we call her Grandma out of respect.” Mo Jiwu nodded calmly, his expression blank as usual, while thinking, _She’s changed over time.
She used to say she’d never change and would always stay the same… heh._ “What about marriage?
I heard you say she never married, but I know she was married.” “You even know that?
Forget it—it doesn’t matter now.
I’ll be dead soon anyway, so why am I even asking… Yes, she was married and lived happily with her husband, according to my grandmother and the rest of the family.
Grandma Xing’s husband was a kind, quiet man with a calm temperament—easy to live with.
That’s how my grandmother Hong Chuan described him.” _…Didn’t expect that from that little girl._ Mo Jiwu thought, though his expression barely changed.
“When my grandmother talked about it, she said the strangest thing about her older sister and her husband was how well they fit together.
They seemed like opposites, yet at the same time like a single person.
Strange description, right?
When I asked about it, she said Grandma Xing was the kind of person who nearly died a few times a week—burning herself, falling out of trees, getting into accidents, always restless and full of energy.
Her husband was the opposite: quiet, rarely active unless he had something to do.
Most of the time he’d accompany, or rather watch over, his wife in his free time to make sure she didn’t accidentally kill herself trying something new that caught her curiosity.
I didn’t believe it at first, not until I asked Grandma Hong Xing herself.
Unlike her youth, she’d become composed with age.
And despite being opposites like summer and winter, they shared a lot of the same ideas and personality traits.
My grandmother said that if her older sister had been a man, she’d have been a copy of her husband.
Isn’t that strange?
Different behavior, but the same character.
I don’t know how that works—I’ve never seen anything like it before—but that’s what the stories said…” Like any old man given a chance to reminisce, he went on at length, his eyes growing unfocused as he sank into the sea of memory.
Beside him, Mo Jiwu listened, tears flowing from his eyes while a gentle, happy smile sat on his face.
He was reliving the same memories.
Suddenly, Old Man Yuan stopped talking.
His eyes refocused, and he noticed Mo Jiwu’s state but said nothing.
He continued, “That’s how it was… until Grandma Xing’s husband disappeared.” “Until her husband disappeared.” They said the same sentence, phrased differently but with the same meaning, as if they’d agreed on it.
Hong Yuan turned his neck toward Mo Jiwu and saw that the tears had stopped.
The emotion was gone from his face, replaced again by the look of a dead man.
“…How did you know?” Hong Yuan asked, his voice trembling slightly as he kept his eyes on Mo Jiwu.
“Let’s just say I know.
Can you continue?
How did Hong Xing become after he disappeared?” Mo Jiwu ignored the question and asked one of his own instead.
“Just ‘I know’?
And what kind of rudeness is this—calling my grandmother by her full name like that?
Where were you raised?” Hong Yuan muttered.
He didn’t press it further.
On one side, Mo Jiwu wouldn’t say anything and kept his thoughts hidden.
On the other, he was a Spirit Master, and he couldn’t force him to talk.
Mo Jiwu said nothing.
He just kept staring at the tombstone, expressionless.
Hong Yuan sighed and thought for a moment before speaking, his eyes distant.
“My grandmother said that at the time, her sister’s husband went on a business trip to a neighboring city by car.
Then his news cut off, and calls to his phone stopped going through.
At first everyone thought his phone just died or something similar.
But after a few days with no word, Grandma Xing went to the city where he was supposed to go.
Even at the company he was supposed to visit, they said he never showed up and had missed his appointment.
The company in our city was notified that he never arrived.” At this point he paused and looked at Mo Jiwu again, trying to catch any reaction.
But Mo Jiwu’s face remained like stone in the rain—unchanged.
“And then?” That was all he got from him.
Hong Yuan watched him for a while to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, then opened his mouth to continue.
“According to my grandmother, after that Grandma Xing returned home scared, shocked, convinced something had happened.
They reported the disappearance to security.
After the usual questioning and a visit to his workplace, they traced where he’d been sent.
And yes, they found something.” He paused, looked at Mo Jiwu, and said, “Guess what it was?” It was clear he had some ideas and was now testing him.
Mo Jiwu turned to him, thinking, _Hmm, looks like he’s using his head and figuring something out…_ A light wind blew with the approaching evening chill, and the cemetery grew colder.
Large, well-fed trees stood around them, their leaves rustling gently.
Branches swayed, revealing gaps where the orange dusk sun peeked through, adding a bit of color to the frozen atmosphere between the child and the old man.
After a minute of silence, Mo Jiwu answered, “They found Hong Xing’s husband’s car, right?” This time, Old Man Yuan didn’t comment on his rudeness in using his grandmother’s name.
He just continued without reacting.
“Correct.
They found the car in impound after a report of a car nearly causing a collision on the road between the two cities.
The doors weren’t locked, the keys were in the ignition, but there were no passengers or driver.
The owner’s ID was inside, but the driver—the car’s owner—was gone.
No personal belongings like bags or travel items were found.
After traffic police towed the car to impound, they waited for the owner to claim it under any kind of report.
That never happened.
Instead, Grandma Xing came with her siblings and the police to identify the car, and it was indeed hers.
Police investigations found no signs of a struggle or any kind of kidnapping—not even a small trace.
The way the car was found was strange too.
It was still running, but there was no one inside, and it had almost caused an accident on its own before stopping after moving a short distance.
There were skid marks from heavy braking, and shortly after, the car had stopped.
According to the experts, this points to one of two things: either the owner jumped out while it was moving—which is unlikely, since no torn clothes or blood were found, and if he had jumped, no one would have been left to brake—or the driver disappeared while driving.” “The driver of the car disappeared while driving,” Mo Jiwu finished the second conclusion beside him, still expressionless.
This time, Hong Yuan wasn’t shocked like before.
He just went quiet, studied Mo Jiwu for a moment, then nodded.
“Right.
That’s what the police concluded.
They said it was probably a Spirit Master who carried out the abduction, because it wouldn’t be possible for ordinary humans.
The case was then transferred from the civilian department to the special division for Spirit Master incidents, since the civilian side admitted they couldn’t solve it and suspected Spirit Master involvement.” Mo Jiwu nodded, waiting for Hong Yuan to continue.
“Indeed, Spirit Masters from the special division came.
They searched the car and the area where it was found.
One of them even took some old hair from his clothes to perform what he called a ‘tracking.’ Unfortunately, none of it led to anything.
Each of them used their own techniques, but no evidence turned up.
The case was classified as unsolved, and his photo was published in magazines and on TV news in case anyone spotted him.
That’s the story of Grandma Xing’s husband.
That’s why I said she wasn’t married—he disappeared a year after their marriage.
If my parents hadn’t told me this a few times to keep me cautious, I would have forgotten.
The story is old, over a hundred years now.
Honestly, you’re lucky you met me.
No one from the generation after mine knows this story anymore.
In the end, it’s ancient history.
Why drag the sorrows of the past into the present?” As he spoke, he kept his eyes on Mo Jiwu.
As usual, Mo Jiwu showed no expression or reaction.
He seemed to think for a moment before saying, “Sorrows of the past, huh?
Hmm, never mind.
I don’t care about your generation’s stories.
I have nothing to do with them.
Just tell me how Hong Xing was after that.
What did your grandmother and parents say?” Old Man Yuan kept looking at him with meaningful eyes.
_Heh, I’m starting to think I’m losing my mind.
Is this a child?
What child acts and speaks like this?
I hope my guess is wrong…_ “Heh, fine.
I’ll tell you about Grandma Xing.
According to the family, she didn’t give up hope.
For the first five years after his disappearance, she went to the security office at least once a week to ask for updates.
My grandmother told me, crying, how she’d go with eyes full of hope and come back disappointed every time.
Then for the next five years, she went once a month.
Even though the family tried to convince her it was time to let go, she refused quietly, no matter what they said.
Then for the ten years after that, she went once a year.
Even after twenty years, she finally stopped going.
But she never got over it.
She never considered remarrying.
She just lived in their old house, working as a seamstress to make a living, as usual.
I remember my grandmother tried to bring up the idea of remarriage, but she chased her off with an axe in hand.
When my siblings, cousins, and I visited her as kids, one of us would always ask why she wasn’t married.
She’d reply with a smile that she was married.
It looked like a smile, but looking back now, I know it wasn’t.
She was just trying.
She never got over it, even decades later.
And so it went until she passed away, finally happy that she’d meet her husband again.
My grandmother told me she watched her closely for the first two years, afraid she’d commit suicide.
But she realized she wouldn’t—because if he came back and didn’t find her, he’d follow her.
What a tragedy for that poor woman.
She didn’t even get to have a child to keep her company… right?” After finishing, he turned to Mo Jiwu, expecting to see him crying or something similar.
But he found him the same as before—calm, solid, a face like old wood.
It surprised him.
Earlier, tears had flowed like a broken dam with every story.
Now, at the saddest part, there was no reaction?
_Strange… very strange.
Was I wrong?_ That’s what Old Man Yuan was thinking now.
Suddenly, Mo Jiwu stood up and turned to face him.
He said quietly, “Thank you, young man, for answering my questions.
Would you please leave?
I want to be alone with her for a while.” _What is this?
What’s wrong with his voice?
Is this really a human child’s voice?_ Old Man Yuan felt a chill.
The voice sounded like a wounded beast groaning hoarsely in the quiet of the night.
He’d asked politely, but Yuan felt that if he didn’t get up and leave now, he’d have a grave in this cemetery soon.
“O-of course.
I’ll leave you now.
Just don’t stay too late; night is coming.” Hong Yuan got up to leave.
After ten steps, he stopped and turned back.
He saw Mo Jiwu facing the grave again.
He hesitated, a conflicted look on his face, then returned and stood behind him without showing his face.
“Grandma Hong Xing would be happy to know you’re back.
I hope you’re doing well.
I can tell you’ve made a decision about something.
I won’t say anything about it, but I wish you’d stay a little longer before going… Grandpa.” A minute after Old Man Yuan spoke, he saw a slight nod from the child in front of him.
He finally let out a quiet sigh of relief and left this time, leaving the poor grandfather alone.
He was sure this was Grandma Hong Xing’s husband.
But how had he become a child?
Where had he been?
Maybe some questions would remain unanswered.
He didn’t have the courage to stay beside that monster in the moment it might break.
And so the sun set after a while, and Mo Jiwu sat expressionless before the grave for a second night…