mourning hall
The sky in Taipei in March is as blue as a piece of freshly ironed silk, smooth without a single wrinkle.
The afternoon after Jin Yu's urn was taken away, Xiang Yang was alone in the hotel room where he was staying.
The sunlight slanted through the window glass, cutting a bright geometric pattern on the carpet.
He folded his clothes one by one and put them into the suitcase, his movements slow and methodical, just like the impression he usually gave people.
I didn't bring much stuff with me, so I packed it up in no time.
My eyes fell on the carpet beside the bed. The travel bag that was originally used to hold the urn and wooden box was now lying there empty, like a general who had completed his mission and returned to the countryside.
He bent down and picked up the dark travel bag. The bag was very light, as if it still retained traces of dust from the journey.
He folded it carefully, intending to stuff it into his half-full suitcase.
However, just as his fingers were about to press the travel bag into the corner of the suitcase, his movements paused.
My eyes look through the window at Taipei outside.
This city is Jin Yu's hometown. At this moment, it seems both familiar and unfamiliar to him.
People and cars are busy on the streets, but there is no noise. Everything seems so unreal as if it is separated by a layer of transparent glass.
He changed his mind.
He reopened the suitcase, took out several dark shirts and suits one by one, and hung them back in the closet.
"I probably won't be coming back." Xiang Yang muttered to himself, a vague yet heavy sadness in his tone. "Jin Yu, I'll go and say goodbye to you."
He unbuttoned his casual clothes and began to slowly change into the black suit that he almost only wore on formal occasions.
The fabric drapes beautifully, and the ironed straight lines make him look taller and more reserved, which doesn't match his age.
The self in the mirror had a lingering tiredness between his eyebrows, but also showed determination because of a newly-born idea.
Stepping onto the desolate and old slope of Wuxing Street again, Xiangyang's black suit did not seem out of place in the afternoon sun, and silently blended into the daily life of this old neighborhood.
His steps were steady, but each step was filled with indistinct emotions.
About twenty meters away from the Jin family's house, two middle-aged women carrying vegetable baskets passed by the door of the Jin family while walking and chatting.
Their voices were not loud, but in this relatively quiet alley, they pierced Xiangyang's ears sharply.
"So this is how the urn should be placed in the house?" one of the women said, with a tone of blunt disapproval.
"Mr. Jin spent too much money on chemotherapy in the past two years, he should..." another person took over, with a hint of regret in his words.
Upon hearing this, Xiangyang frowned unconsciously, with mixed feelings in his heart, and he couldn't tell whether it was sour or bitter.
He stopped, a thought flashing through his mind like an electric current. He had to do something for Jin Yu.
He turned quickly and slipped into a narrower alley nearby. He took out his cell phone and quickly dialed a familiar number.
The two women continued to chatter among themselves.
At this time, Yao Fengqin and Jin Cang came out from another alley carrying things.
The bags they were carrying contained newly purchased candlesticks, incense burners, gold paper, and a bunch of plain white flowers, all of which were prepared to be used to decorate the mourning hall.
They walked on the other side of the slope with their heads down, and obviously heard the neighbors' discussions.
"...But if the memorial tablet is placed in the house like this, and the feng shui of the surrounding area is affected, who will be held responsible?"
"Well, the funeral and the graveside table are going to cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, at least. His family might be really struggling."
"No, I still think I should protest to them, at least..."
Yao Fengqin's steps suddenly stopped. She turned around, her face filled with uncontrollable anger. "Protest? Do you know who you're talking about? A-Yu, the A-Yu you've watched grow up! You're talking so foul-mouthed, don't you feel guilty?"
Her voice was trembling, her anger and sadness evident.
Jin Cang gently tugged at her sleeve and whispered, "Aunt Yao, forget it."
The two women were embarrassed by Yao Fengqin's scolding and said awkwardly, "A Cang, we mean no harm. We will go burn incense later."
After saying that, he lowered his head, quickened his pace and left in a hurry.
Yao Fengqin looked at their backs, feeling angry and sad. She sighed heavily and walked into the Jin family carrying her things.
Jin Cang walked up the slope and passed the alley where Xiangyang had just turned. He caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye. He hesitated for a moment, but still walked over.
The alley is not deep and you can see to the end at a glance. It is the man from Beijing, Xiangyang.
He had his back to the alley entrance and was talking on the phone. His voice was very low, but a few words still floated into Jin Cang's ears.
"It's okay... Just do as I say. The balance for the soundtrack, and the thirteen songs Jin Yu commissioned you... Yes, I'll buy them all. I'll transfer the money to you right away... I'd be so kind as to ask you to come as soon as possible. I'll send you the address..."
My brother’s name…Thirteen songs…Jin Cang’s heart skipped a beat, and he was a little unsure what he heard.
Seeing that Xiangyang had ended the call, he quickly turned around, stretched out his long legs, and walked quickly into the house.
When Xiangyang stepped into the Jin family's living room again, the atmosphere inside was more solemn than the day before.
The simple furniture in the living room had been moved to the wall, leaving a space in the middle where a long table was placed to serve as an incense table.
On the incense table, there was no time to prepare even the formal spirit tablet, and Jin Yu's urn was placed directly in the center, and the urn was wiped very clean.
An ordinary framed photo of daily life was used as a posthumous photo and placed behind the urn.
In the photo, Jin Yu smiled shyly with clear eyes.
The decorations on the incense table were not yet complete, there was only a pair of old-fashioned candlesticks with two white candles burning, the candlelight flickering.
In an incense burner that is also quite old, there are a few sticks of incense, and the smoke is curling up.
Yao Fengqin was putting the white lilies she had just bought into a simple vase one by one. She placed the vase on the incense table.
The entire makeshift mourning hall was cramped and filled with the desolation and embarrassment of war.
Jin Changan changed into a black suit and sat quietly on an old rattan chair by the wall, not saying a word. The wrinkles on his face seemed deeper than last night, and he looked older.
Xiangyang walked in. Everyone in the room was busy with their own things. No one noticed him immediately, and no one came forward to greet him.
Jin Cang held a piece of white paper with the words "Mourning" written on it with a brush in his hand. He walked past him silently and posted it outside the door.
Xiangyang stood there for nearly ten seconds before Zhao Zhiling, who was standing beside him, quietly lit three incense sticks and turned to hand them to him. She was wearing plain clothes today, her face expressionless, but her movements were gentle.
Xiangyang took the incense, whispered a few prayers towards Jin Yu's portrait and urn, then respectfully lit the incense and bowed deeply.
Every movement was extremely pious.
Jin Cang had just finished pasting the white paper with the words "Mourning" on it and was walking back from the door.
Seeing this, Xiangyang stepped forward and grabbed his arm.
Jin Cang's arms were very strong, and through the thin fabric, one could feel the unique warmth of a young man.
Xiang Yang pulled out a white funeral envelope from the inside pocket of his suit and handed it to Jin Cang. The envelope was plain, with no words on it.
"It's just a little token of my appreciation." Xiangyang's voice was not loud, but it carried a seriousness that could not be refused.
Jin Cang took one look at the thick funeral package and instinctively wanted to refuse it: "It's too much."
"Keep it." Xiang Yang's tone became heavier, and he stuffed the envelope into Jin Cang's hand without saying anything. His warm fingertips accidentally touched the back of Jin Cang's hand.
Xiangyang didn't say anything else. He walked silently to the empty chair next to Jin Changan and sat down.
Jin Changan, who had been looking a little depressed and dazed, slowly raised his head and looked at Xiangyang with somewhat empty eyes, as if he just recognized who he was.
"Uncle Jin, please accept my condolences." Xiangyang said softly.
Jin Chang'an seemed to have suddenly woken up from a dream, and grief suddenly surged in his originally empty eyes.
He stretched out his hands and tightly grasped Xiangyang's right hand with such force that Xiangyang felt a slight pain.
"He...he, is it painful?" Jin Changan's voice was hoarse and dry, and every word seemed to be squeezed out from the depths of his throat.
Xiang Yang gently patted the back of Jin Changan's hand, trying to offer some comfort: "Jin Yu... He said he wanted to go home, and I agreed. Okay, let's go home. He smiled, a very happy smile."
Tears quickly gathered in Jin Changan's cloudy eyes and flowed down the lines on his cheeks: "Did he live well during those days?"
"He has friends and music he loves. He is... fine, Uncle Jin, don't think too much about it." Xiangyang's tone was firm and his eyes were sincere.
Jin Changan shook his head vigorously, tears welling up in his eyes. "Don't lie to me. How can I be okay so far away from home?"
"It's true, please believe me."
Xiang Yang looked at him seriously. "The songs he wrote are very popular. You might not know this, but he composed the soundtrack and theme song for a movie."
Jin Changan paused slightly, a hint of surprise in his eyes: "Really?"
"Really." Xiang Yang nodded. "He's very busy and works very hard, but he often misses...home."
"I miss home..." Jin Changan murmured repeatedly, tears streaming down his face, "Why don't I go home? Oh, it's because of my bastard father. He... doesn't dare to come back." He pounded his chest, filled with regret.
Xiang Yang hurriedly held Jin Changan's hand tightly, and said in a strong tone: "No, Uncle Jin, don't think like that..."
Before he finished speaking, there was another noise at the door of the Jin family. It was a visitor who had arrived.
The person who came in was Du Tianming, a well-known music producer in the Taipei entertainment circle.
He had obviously just received a call from Xiangyang and came in a hurry.
He was wearing a dark casual jacket and even his hair looked as if he hadn't had time to style it, but he was thoughtful enough to bring his secretary, Ms. Dong, along.
"Hello, my name is Du Tianming." As soon as Du Tianming entered the door, he walked straight to Jin Changan and bowed slightly, "Dayu has worked in my production company and is my most trusted assistant." His voice was steady and polite.
Jin Changan slowly let go of Xiangyang's hand, stood up tremblingly, and didn't say much. He just nodded to Du Tianming as a return gesture.
Yao Fengqin had already lit three incense sticks for Du Tianming and Secretary Dong respectively, and handed them over respectfully. "Boss Du, thank you for coming," Yao Fengqin whispered.
After Du Tianming and Secretary Dong finished offering incense in turn, Zhao Zhiling stepped forward, took the incense from their hands, and carefully inserted it into the incense burner.
Jin Cang stood aside, bowing to the two men as a family member. His tall figure cast a faint shadow in the small living room.
After burning incense, Du Tianming walked up to Jin Changan.
"Your condolences," he offered a soothing word before getting down to business. "I've come here for something else. We've actually been in constant contact since Dayu left for Beijing. He entrusted me with a few songs, and they've all sold. My company is collecting some royalties, but now, who should I contact to process this payment?"
Jin Cang took a step forward, his voice a little hoarse, with some subtle doubt: "I am Jin Yu's younger brother, talk to me." He glanced at Xiang Yang beside him indifferently.
"That's great." Du Tianming nodded and turned to Secretary Dong beside him.
Yao Fengqin hurriedly called out: "Come and sit down and talk, don't stand, don't stand." She swiftly moved a few chairs over.
Jin Changan, Jin Cang, Du Tianming and Secretary Dong sat down around a small coffee table.
Xiangyang and Zhao Zhiling stood a little further away.
Secretary Dong quickly took out a thin laptop from his briefcase, turned it on, and skillfully opened a file.
Zhao Zhiling promptly poured several cups of hot tea, brought them over on a tray, and placed them in front of everyone. "Everyone, please have some tea," she said softly.
Secretary Dong turned the laptop screen towards Jin Cang and said, "After deducting relevant taxes, the net income from Daewoo's songs, including lyrics and music, is this amount. I will also prepare copies of all licensing agreements and detailed accounts and give them to you."
Jin Cang's eyes fell on the densely packed Excel account sheet on the laptop screen. When he saw the total number at the bottom, he was stunned, his mouth slightly open, revealing an expression of disbelief.
"So many?" he asked, stuttering a little. "How many songs are there in total?"
Secretary Dong replied, "There are thirteen pieces in total."
"Thirteen poems..." Jin Cang's heart was shocked when he heard this.
He suddenly remembered what he had heard Xiang Yang say on the phone in the alley outside his home not long ago: "...the balance of the soundtrack, and the thirteen songs that Jin Yu commissioned you... Yes, I'll buy them all, and I'll transfer the money to you right away..."
Jin Cang subconsciously raised his head, looked over the crowd, and quietly looked at Xiangyang who was standing not far away.
Xiangyang was looking down at the ground, and the lines of his profile seemed unpredictable in the dim light.
He didn't seem to notice Jin Cang's gaze.
Du Tianming continued speaking to Jin Changan, his tone sounding particularly sincere. "Mr. Jin, I'm sorry to bother you, but I have one more thing to say… My old colleagues at the company were very sad to hear the news about Dayu. We all…we all want to bid Dayu farewell together."
As he was speaking, Secretary Dong quickly took out three or four more exquisitely bound file folders from his briefcase and placed them one by one on the coffee table.
"These are several funeral companies that my colleagues helped select. They provide detailed information on funeral details, procedures, venue layout, and coffin placement," Secretary Dong added. "Of course, we respect your opinions on everything, and all plans can be adjusted."
While everyone was looking through the documents, Du Tianming glanced calmly in Yang's direction and nodded very slightly.
Xiang Yang also quietly mouthed two words to Du Tianming: "Thank you."
All these subtle interactions were seen impartially by Jin Cang who was sitting in his seat.
A Cang lowered his head, looking at the heavy mourning envelope in his hand, then looked up at the Beijing man who was still silent but seemed to have solved the urgent problem for their family.
The sunlight slanted in from outside the door, shining right on Xiangyang's shoulders, outlining a brilliant halo.
The kindness in human nature is sometimes like a pebble accidentally dropped into a lake. Though unassuming, it creates ripples that silently expand and ferment, moving quietly in a brighter direction. Xiangyang's impromptu stay, an inadvertent decision, quietly rewrote a story that seemed destined to end in sorrow.
The story, as if just when everyone thought it was about to end, suddenly took a new turn.
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