The Lost Corpse

Chapter 7: Whose Mother Died

"Get out!" Lu Nan stood at the doorway, pointing towards the living room, shouting at Yellow Hair. Yellow Hair remained silent, probably thinking that neither I nor Lu Nan could be saved. He bypassed Lu Nan, and then I heard a bang, the sound of the door closing was so loud that even the windows shook.

Lu Nan walked over, holding paper and a pen. "Is there anything you want to say to me? Do you feel wronged?"

I shook my head twice, answering his two questions. He placed the paper and pen by the bedside. "I was a little worried that you and Lu Bei might have a conflict, so I turned back halfway. It's okay, take your time." I felt like I had a lot to say, but handwriting was too slow, and my teeth could only click and clack, like chewing dried beans. So I decided not to speak.

In the past, when I used to run away from home, I would usually return home with tears and a runny nose. I lacked courage because I was more afraid of the dangers of the world than facing my parents' scolding and beating. In my memories, I saw a young couple standing at the door of their home. My father, originally appearing concerned and about to rush out of the house, wore an angry expression when he saw me. "I knew this brat wouldn't last an hour before coming back hungry." Actually, I knew that his underlying message was, "We cooked a meal at home, waiting for you. Are you hungry?"

　　Except for parents, no one will forgive you indefinitely. The expression of my mother pulling me inside the door is still in my mind, and her face slowly coincide with a block of cement, which is a gravestone. No wonder Lu Nan asked if I remembered. I had forgotten my own mother.

And now, he lies beside me, tucking me in, resting my head on his shoulder. 'Don't listen to his nonsense. Whether it's evil or disgusting, romantic or not romantic, it's between the two of us. Why should we seek the whole world's understanding? The world itself is engaged in internal strife, refusing to yield. Is there anything that's absolutely right or wrong?'

My mother is dead. He eased my pain with a seemingly unrelated topic, but the pain persists. His breath brushes against my skull. I realize my sense of touch is gradually returning to my surroundings.

Lu Nan hasn't gone to work since that day. Over the next few days, there were a few calls, but he didn't answer them. He's watching movies with me. We're watching horror movies, where those dead things have extraordinary abilities—passing through walls, digging hearts, hanging from ceilings, and then opening their large and red mouths wide with a 'wa' sound. Most importantly, as long as they wish, humans can see them. I glanced at the mirror beside the TV, and there's only a skeleton inside.
　　I turned my head to glance at Lu Nan. He seemed much thinner than the first time we met in my memory. Indoors, he had taken off his coat, and his sweater was tightly wrapped around his body. I even thought his abdomen had sunken in, although it might also have been the visual effect caused by his hunching over a bit to hold onto me, who is a bit shorter.

I reached out to grab the paper and pen that were always placed beside me when he's around. He always had them ready, and he seemed quite interested when I took the initiated to talk to him on paper for the second time. He stared earnestly at my bony fingers as I wrote: "My mother is dead?" He made a sound of agreement. Now it was confirmed; I am Wu Mo.

"When did she die?"

"April 23rd, 2007, 9:10 PM."

"Where is my father?"

"April 23rd, 2007, 9:10 PM."

For this seemingly off-topic answer, damn it, I actually understood. I miss the feeling of rainwater trickling out of my eye sockets; now they were dry and aching. If I had a stomach, I would definitely be nauseous.

"Tell me what happened." I didn't look at him; just hearing the tremble in his voice was unbearable.
　
"In 2007, we were young and full of energy, just in our early twenties. We came out to your parents, and they disagreed. You followed me here. They were so anxious that they were desperately searching for news about you. Later, they found you. I wasn't home that day, and I figured you couldn't bear to see your parents in so much pain, so you went with them. The bus you were on had a collision at 9:10 PM that afternoon. They died on the spot."

"Did I also died?"

"No." He turned my body to face him. "We didn't find your body."

Oh, what does it matter? I'm still dead.

The author has something to say:
I really didn't want to write something so heavy. There's no cuteness in it. What happened to the lightheartedness? Actually, I'm just a dark person at heart... [Hides face and runs away] Please don't abandon the story…