Chapter 9: His Gentleness

“Jiangbei, there’s an interview assignment.” A colleague waved a document in their hand. “It’s about wrapping up the report on the 705 case from last time—the process of how the suspect was found… You’ll need to go and finalize it.”

“Is our team going?” Jiang Beibei took the document. “Where is it?”

The colleague winked at her. “A good place—the Wushan Funeral Home in the suburbs.”

That was where Chu Yao worked. Jiang Beibei paused for a moment, unable to suppress her smile. “Do we have an appointment?”

“It’s scheduled for the afternoon,” the colleague said. “I didn’t want to go too early in the morning—it might make people uncomfortable. Some are bound to be superstitious about it.”

“Huh?” Jiang Beibei didn’t understand.

“Going to such a place early in the morning is considered unlucky.”

“How could that be?” Jiang Beibei replied. “My brother has been working there for almost two years, and nothing unlucky has happened. It’s all superstition.”

Upon hearing this, the colleague remembered and instinctively took a half-step back. “Well... you might not think much of it, but the driver might refuse. Just imagine driving to a funeral home first thing in the morning—it’s bound to feel ominous.”

Jiang Beibei opened her mouth to argue but held back with great effort.

Chu Yao’s job, like the relationship between Elder Brother and Second Brother, was always a topic that couldn’t be openly discussed.

Taboos, aversion, disgust… Jiang Beibei felt choked up, her expression darkening, yet she couldn’t defend him. Defending him might only deepen the surrounding prejudice against these marginalized professions.

“We’ve heard that the Wushan Funeral Home handles nearly a hundred bodies a day…” The colleague noticed the change in her demeanor and explained, “Death is something everyone avoids talking about. Think about it—so many dead bodies coming and going every day—it’s unsettling.”

Jiang Beibei changed her approach. “If we go in the afternoon, the interview won’t end until evening. By then, the temperature will drop, and if the roads freeze over, it’ll be hard to drive back. Wouldn’t it be better to go while the weather is still good and sunny? Have you checked the weather forecast? It’s supposed to snow.”

The colleague thought for a moment—nighttime would indeed be scarier, and they might encounter who-knows-what. After discussing with the cameraman and driver, the team set off at 10 a.m.

An hour and a half later, they arrived at their destination.

Although the funeral home was located at the foot of Wushan Mountain in a sparsely populated suburban area, it wasn’t as desolate or frightening as they had imagined. On the contrary, it stood out as the sole splash of color in the area.

Moreover, today the funeral home was unusually bustling.

The cameraman noticed the tour bus parked outside the entrance and the people coming and going. Curious, he asked, “Does the funeral home have some kind of promotional event??”

The accompanying reporter joked nervously, “...Are the deceased’s relatives holding a memorial service here?”

“...It doesn’t look like it,” the cameraman replied. Then, noticing Jiang Beibei standing there dumbfounded, he asked, “Reporter Jiang, what’s wrong?”

The accompanying reporter clutched their chest and said, “Sis Beibei, your expression is terrifying—as if you’ve seen a ghost…”

Jiang Beibei snapped out of her thoughts. “Oh, it’s nothing… Let’s go inside.”

She was simply overwhelmed—it was her first time seeing where Chu Yao worked, and she felt a wave of emotions.

Love extends to everything associated with the beloved—that’s an instinct for anyone smitten by unrequited love.

Because of Chu Yao, this funeral home had gained warmth in Jiang Beibei’s eyes—it was endearing.

The funeral home was well-built, and it was the first time her colleagues had visited such a place. Seeing the chapel, consultation rooms, and rest areas—all fully equipped—they were genuinely impressed by its professionalism and human-centric design.

The staff members, dressed in white shirts and ties, informed them that the director was currently unavailable and would only be free for the interview later. They led the group on a tour, much like visiting a school campus. Everything seemed perfectly normal—even the walls displayed photos and introductions of employees, similar to how hospitals introduce their doctors.

“It’s not as… scary as I imagined,” one young reporter remarked.

The staff member smiled. “Death education and sex education are both lacking in our country. In reality, we should face death and sexuality honestly… Sorry, I digressed.”

Jiang Beibei looked up and found Chu Yao’s photo, gazing at it dreamily.

Chu Yao’s photo had a blue background. He wore a white shirt and a black tie, his face devoid of emotion—beautiful yet distant.

Jiang Beibei asked, “Is Chu Yao… working now?”

“You know him?” The staff member quickly smiled and replied, “Today, students from a neighboring city’s mortuary science program are here for a visit and internship. There’s a meeting in the memorial hall, and Chu Yao, being one of our outstanding employees, needs to say a few words to them.”

“Can we listen in?”

“The material you need is inside. You can go in, but there are a lot of students today, so there aren’t enough chairs in the memorial hall. The third hall just held a service earlier, and the wreaths are still piled up at the back. You might have to stand while listening…”

The staff member led them to Hall 3. Jiang Beibei let the cameraman go inside while she stayed by the door.

“I’ll stay here.”

One of the accompanying reporters glanced inside, saw the wreaths and paper offerings at the back, shuddered, and quickly told the cameraman, “I’ll stay outside with Beibei!”

Inside Hall 3, the funeral home director had just finished their speech, saying, “We’ve said everything we needed to say. If any of you students have questions, feel free to ask me or Chu Yao.”

Upon hearing Chu Yao’s name, Jiang Beibei immediately perked up her ears.

Soon, a student responded, saying, “I’d like to ask Senior Chu Yao a question.”

Jiang Beibei heard Chu Yao reply, “Sure, go ahead.”

“Senior Chu Yao, the director mentioned earlier that you transitioned from being a forensic pathologist to working here at the funeral home. I’m really curious why you made that choice. Forensic pathology was my first choice as well, and I’ve always believed that being a forensic pathologist is more meaningful than being a mortician.”

After this student spoke, there was some commotion among the others, seemingly scolding him for praising forensic pathology while belittling the work of the funeral home.

The student quickly explained, “I truly believe forensic pathology is more meaningful than mortuary work, but that doesn’t mean I’m looking down on morticians—I’ll be doing this job myself someday. It’s just that, through autopsies, forensic pathologists help the police catch criminals and bring justice to victims. Morticians, on the other hand, only work with the dead. Comparing the two, you can’t deny that forensic pathology has greater social value.”

One of the accompanying reporters whispered, “This kid must not be very popular… Saying forensic pathology is more valuable while at a funeral home—it must make the workers here uncomfortable.”

After a long silence, Jiang Beibei heard Chu Yao respond, “Every job has its own meaning, but the weight of that meaning varies from person to person. For me, working here is more important.”

Chu Yao then shared a story about why he switched careers to join the funeral home.

“Some of you may not have heard of Operation Leopard 925 from eighteen years ago. It was a joint operation by three countries—our city’s public security bureau worked with Vietnam, Myanmar, and Thailand to crack down on drug crimes…”

Jiang Beibei froze, gripping the reporter’s hand tightly. The reporter hissed in pain, wanting to ask what was wrong, but realized Jiang Beibei was trembling.

“More than a decade ago, drug trafficking was rampant in our city. That operation dealt a heavy blow to the drug trade and led to the cross-border arrest of a Burmese drug lord. The mission was successful, but… three of our city’s police officers sacrificed their lives, two of whom were a married couple. They were elite members of the team, colleagues of my parents, and also our neighbors. When they passed away, their daughter was only five years old.”

Chu Yao paused to steady his emotions before continuing, “Uncle… died during mine-clearing operations on the border. His body was incomplete. At their farewell ceremony, my mother kept covering their daughter’s eyes. Our beloved grandmother, their mother, looked at the mangled remains and said, ‘That’s not my son.’ That little girl was only five years old. I remember people whispering about whether she should be allowed to say goodbye to her father’s body. Letting her see her father one last time would be too cruel, but not letting her see him would also be cruel… I hope none of you will ever face such a moment—a moment where no matter what choice you make, your heart will break.”

Chu Yao took a deep breath, steadying himself, and continued, “Choosing forensic pathology was influenced by my father. In my first year on the job, I came to this funeral home to investigate a suspect. It was right here, in Hall 3, which back then was a small memorial hall. A funeral was taking place inside—the deceased had died in a car accident, and his head had collapsed from the impact. His wife was crying while covering their daughter’s eyes. That little girl, around four or five years old, reminded me of her… On that day, I helped prepare the deceased young father’s appearance. I wanted him to leave peacefully, at least allowing those who loved him most to see him one last time. It was also that day I decided to work here.”

Chu Yao said, “Forensic pathologists stand on the shore, using the information left behind by the deceased to speak for the victims. Morticians are more like ferrymen, doing their best to send the deceased from this world to the next in the most dignified way possible. There’s no need to compare the two—they’re both important jobs. The difference lies only in what you personally prefer to do.”

He concluded, “I prefer to be a ferryman.”

Outside Hall 3, Jiang Beibei pulled her hand away from the reporter and hurriedly ran off.

Outside the funeral home, a new body had arrived, and most people were crying. They cried for lost loved ones, for farewells, for journeys never to return, and for a world without the departed.

Jiang Beibei was also crying, silently shedding tears. Her entire world felt muted, silent.

It wasn’t sadness—she simply wanted to cry.

In her hazy memories, all that remained of her parents’ bodies was the bright red national flag draped over them. This memory had always been cold, something she deliberately avoided thinking about yet couldn’t bear to forget. As a result, it became like a cold, hard stone lodged in a corner of her heart.

“Dad… Mom…” Jiang Beibei wiped her tears and composed herself. She turned to look at the funeral home but didn’t have the courage to stand in front of Chu Yao and interview him.

She wasn’t ready to face him, not this gentle side of him.

Chu Yao had never spoken about why he changed careers, and Jiang Beibei only learned today why he became a mortician. However, she hadn’t expected that knowing the reason would make her heart ache. The pain wasn’t sadness or sorrow—it was a deep, enduring affection and admiration, a tender ache brought on by loving him even more.

Jiang Beibei handed the interview task over to the accompanying intern reporter. After learning from the cameraman that the child who had lost her parents in Chu Yao’s story was Jiang Beibei herself, the intern graciously accepted the assignment.

Jiang Beibei sat curled up in the car and called a colleague from the production team of People Around Us .

“Yuanbao, have you finalized next year’s program plans?” Jiang Beibei asked. “I want you to do an episode… introducing the work of funeral homes.”

“Ah! Is this about your brother?” Huang Yuanbao, the chief editor of People Around Us , exclaimed excitedly. “No problem at all! I’ve been wanting to discuss this with you for a long time!”

“I want… everyone to understand this profession,” Jiang Beibei said softly. “He’s the best person, the best…”

He was the gentlest. Though Jiang Beibei had always referred to Chu Yao as an iceberg or the North Pole, he was indeed the gentlest among her brothers.

His gentleness ran so deep that when she inadvertently uncovered it, she fell completely in love with him.

And now, she could only love him more.