Another World
Two months after Jian Jing's death, she was posthumously honored as a martyr.
Ji Feng brought the relevant documents and visited Jian's parents. Compared to when he last saw them at the hospital, they had aged noticeably, their movements becoming slow and mechanical.
"I apologize for taking so long to visit you both," he said. At moments like these, words were particularly difficult, so Ji Feng avoided empty phrases about grief.
After a brief pause, he continued, "Miss Jian shared some words with me before she passed, asking me to relay them to you both."
Jian's mother finally showed a reaction, asking eagerly, "What did Jing Jing say?"
"She said," Ji Feng carefully chose his words, "to please forgive her, and not to worry about her, as she has simply returned to another world."
He tried to recreate Jian Jing's tone as he repeated her words: "There, she's a famous writer, earning good money each year, living well, and loved by many people.
"She lives in a Western-style house, has a German Shepherd named Knight, and sometimes encounters murder cases, but she always catches the culprits. She has many suitors, and maybe she'll choose one as her boyfriend..."
Before he could finish, Jian's mother's tears were already streaming down her face uncontrollably. When he finished speaking, she broke down completely: "If only we had known... if only we hadn't stopped her before..."
She seemed to have found an outlet for her emotions and continued, "Our Jing Jing, she always loved these things since she was little. When 'Special Case Squad 6' was on TV, she would watch it endlessly. Even when we sent her to bed, she would sneak back and hide behind the door to watch."
Children grow up quickly, but mothers always remember how they were when they were young, every detail vivid in their minds.
"In middle school, she wrote stories all day. Her teacher said she had good writing skills, but writing novels wasn't the same as writing essays. She could barely get 50 points out of 60 on her high school entrance exam compositions, and they asked us to talk to her. We didn't want our child to become some writer, like those young girls in the newspapers publishing books and making headlines at such a young age. We just wanted her to study well and go to college, that was enough. Later she became more sensible and stopped mentioning it. I thought she had forgotten about it..."
Jian's mother's eyes reddened again.
"When it was time to apply for university, she argued with us, saying she wanted to study criminal psychology, or at least law, but we couldn't bear it. Being a police officer -- Officer, you're a police officer, you know how hard this job is. And lawyers, though they make good money, we asked around, they're worked to death. We never wanted her to make big money, just to have a stable job."
She sighed and said to her husband, "If only we had listened to what she wanted."
Jian's father, who had been silent until now, finally spoke: "What did she know? For a girl, being a teacher is the best option. Stable work, good benefits."
Jian's mother: "Yes, and then your daughter died getting hit by a car while trying to catch a murderer."
As soon as the words left her mouth, they both fell silent, locked in a standoff.
Ji Feng guessed they had been having this conflict for some time. Sighing internally, he asked, "Would you like to hear my thoughts?"
Jian's mother wiped away her tears: "Please, let me get you some water."
She brought him a cup of hot water, looking expectant: "Did Jing Jing tell you anything else?"
"Miss Jian was the bravest and smartest young woman I've ever met," Ji Feng said. "She found the killer even before the police did, which is remarkable."
Jian's father suddenly looked up, his neck stiff: "Who wanted her to be remarkable?"
"According to our interrogations, Miss Jian had already faced danger twice before," Ji Feng continued steadily. "The first time, Wang Tan tried to kill her, but she escaped. The second time, Zhang Feng returned to the scene, planning to silence her along with Wang Tan, but Miss Jian cleverly avoided it."
Jian's father persisted: "Then why..."
"Because she didn't want the killer to escape," Ji Feng said sincerely. "She could have stayed safe, but she chose to pursue them -- though it may sound cruel, I believe Miss Jian knew exactly what she was choosing. That's extremely rare."
"Extremely rare," he repeated, softening his tone. "She knew you might not understand her choice, which is why she only asked for your forgiveness."
Jian's mother's tears began flowing again.
"But I think you should be proud of her," Ji Feng handed over the martyr documents, emphasizing, "She deserves your pride."
--
Another sleepless night.
The Jian couple lay in bed, both aware the other was awake, but neither spoke. They maintained a relationship of both hostility and dependence, silently supporting each other.
After an unknown time, bright moonlight flooded the room, making the ceiling snow-white.
"If only... if only Jing Jing..." Jian's mother said hoarsely, her voice dry, "If she really went somewhere else, if we could just see her once..."
Jian's father remained silent, but two tears quietly seeped from his tightly closed eyes.
The room fell quiet again.
This time, whether due to sleeping pills or sheer exhaustion, they finally fell into dreams.
In their dream, they joined a senior citizens' tour group.
--
On the tour bus, Jian's mother looked around, thinking how long it had been since she'd dreamed, wondering if she might dream of her daughter today. This was what she hoped for most every night before sleep.
But the bus was full of elderly people, with a tour guide introducing scenic spots.
Her husband sat beside her, looking around just as she did, showing the same disappointed expression.
The couple fell silent.
The bus entered a parking lot, and the tour guide raised a small flag, asking everyone to disembark.
The Jian couple followed the crowd off the bus.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the mountain ahead is Wishing Mountain. At the summit, there's a Buddha statue carved four hundred years ago. Legend says if you can climb to the top before sunset and sincerely offer incense, Buddha will hear your wishes," the tour guide, well-versed in handling senior groups, eloquently shared various obviously fabricated stories.
But the elderly listeners were captivated, already discussing what wishes they would make.
"Good point, since we're already here," Officer Gao said. "Ms. Jian, have you made any wishes? I heard it's especially effective for finding love."
"That won't do. My admirers could line up from here to France," she winked. "Any more would drive me crazy."
Old Gao: "Hehe."
Jian's parents exchanged bewildered looks.
"Oh, there you are! We should head back," the tour guide came looking for them. "The cable car's fixed, and many people are waiting to go down. Our senior group gets priority."
The couple, not wanting to cause trouble and somewhat relieved to see their daughter doing well, reluctantly went along.
But just after they left, Jian Jing received a phone call.
After a brief conversation, she said, "Take your time. I need to head back first."
"What's the matter?"
"Some people from America are here to discuss the script for 'The Witch Hunt Game'," she said with frustration. "Looks like I'll be working overtime again."
"The Witch Hunt Game" was her new work this year, a murder mystery involving witchcraft. Remarkably, it was released simultaneously domestically and internationally, gaining traction overseas.
Before long, the book had made it onto The New York Times bestseller list, catching the attention of an American production company interested in buying the rights for a TV adaptation.
"Got to go," she waved, bouncing away like a nimble deer into the lush forest.
At the cable car station.
Just as Jian's parents were about to enter, they heard: "Excuse me, may I join you?"
The couple froze, quickly lowering their heads to hide their tears: "Of course."
Jian Jing entered and recognized them: "It's you."
The couple looked at each other, smiled at her, and tentatively asked: "We heard you're a writer?"
"Yes," finding the elderly couple oddly familiar, she smiled and asked, "Have you heard of me?"
The couple nodded vaguely and asked: "That man from earlier..."
"Oh, he was a fugitive hiding on the mountain disguised as staff. I spotted him," she said casually. "Did he frighten you?"
"That's- that's too dangerous," Jian's father couldn't help saying. "Your parents would worry."
She smiled: "This? It's nothing. I can handle it, no big deal."
But Jian's mother asked: "Where's that young man who was hiking with you earlier?"
"He had to leave early for something."
"Is he your boyfriend?" Jian's mother asked eagerly.
Jian Jing couldn't help but smile: "Not exactly."
Jian's mother showed visible disappointment.
"Young women should settle down," Jian's father repeated the old advice. "Find someone to rely on."
Jian Jing just smiled.
Jian's mother gave her husband a reproachful look. He fell silent.
The Wishing Mountain wasn't tall; the cable car ride down took only three minutes, passing in an instant.
When the car stopped and the doors opened, Jian Jing nodded to them: "I need to go now. Goodbye."
The couple held hands, watching her reluctantly: "Take care on your way."
"I will, please don't worry." Jian Jing hopped out nimbly, walking toward a business car parked by the road. "Mu Cheng."
Another man came out and opened the car door for her: "They're rushing us, we need to hurry."
"How annoying," she said. "Why did they come without notice?"
Kang Mu Cheng: "The screenwriter was just diagnosed with terminal cancer. He wants to complete the script before he dies."
Aliali: 673ed013c4f3f33ac4efe0e5
Jian Jing gasped: "Is that necessary?"
"An artist's dedication," he said. "Let's accommodate him for the sake of the work."
She sighed and nodded.
The car turned around ahead and drove back through the main gate.
The couple kept watching, unwilling to look away.
Jian Jing watched for a moment, then suddenly lowered the window and waved to them: "Goodbye."
The couple, fighting back tears, slowly raised their hands and waved back to her.
The sunset was endless, like a beautiful dream coming to an end.
*
The End