I sat dumbfounded in the reception area, staring at the floor. I could feel people moving around me. My tears quietly streamed down my face. <br><br> <br>The door of the ICU opened, and a doctor walked out. "Family of Bed 7, Jin zhao," he called. <br><br> <br>I was startled for a moment, then followed him inside. The doctor solemnly said to me, "There's no longer any point in resuscitating him. He's clinically dead. Please handle the formalities and contact the funeral home." <br><br> <br>The nurse removed all the tubes. He was gone, wasn't he? <br><br> <br>I asked, "But didn't you just say his heart was still beating?" <br><br> <br>The doctor replied, "That was a weak electrical response from medication after defibrillation. It disappeared quickly. He's brain-dead and has met the criteria for clinical death." <br><br> <br>I looked at my father. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful, with a hint of that mocking smile as if he had seen through everything. I didn't say a word the entire time, just silently let my tears flow as I watched him. The doctor patted my shoulder and said, "Your father has a great name—'Today's stage belongs to the true legends.' My condolences." <br><br> <br>I didn't look at the doctor. I coldly retorted, "It's the 'Live for the moment' kind of Jin zhao!" <br><br> <br>The doctor was slightly taken aback by my reaction and rebuttal. "My condolences. Are you the only family member here? Notify the others." <br><br> <br>I took out my phone and called Section Chief Yi. "My father just passed away." <br><br> <br>Section Chief Yi seemed like he had already anticipated this outcome. Coldly, he said, "Oh. Then handle the formalities, and in a few days, bring the original documents over. I'll help finalize the case. My condolences." <br><br> <br>Soon, the funeral home staff arrived—a man with dyed brown hair. He entered the hospital room and lifted my father, placing him into a yellow body bag. Then, he loaded the bag onto a simple stretcher. He said, "Come with me." <br><br> <br>I asked him, "Do you do this often?" <br><br> <br>He replied, "I've been in this line of work for ten years." <br><br> <br>I asked, "How long has he been gone?" <br><br> <br>He turned to look at me, showing his yellowed teeth as he grinned. "What, causing hospital altercations? Judging by the livor mortis, it's been over five hours." <br><br> <br>I said nothing. What had really happened? Dad, too many secrets. Now, as I sign the papers and take you away, it's just like thirty-six years ago when you received me in the operation room. I'll ensure you leave peacefully. I won't let them touch your body again—I'll let you leave whole. <br><br> <br>Thus, I completed all the procedures. I kept vigil alone for him in the empty room at the funeral home. I turned on all the lights and filled the room with funeral wreaths. Sitting there, I quietly stared at his photo. In the photo, he was young, with slightly curled hair and spirited brows. <br><br> <br>Ding ding, ding ding—the phone rang. It was Warden Zhou from the detention center. "Yichuan, uh, remember, after your father’s matters settle, come find me. Remember." <br><br> <br>The line was filled with static, and he sounded drunk, slurring his words. I couldn't catch it clearly. "Officer Zhou, could you clarify?" <br><br> <br>The call abruptly disconnected. <br><br> <br>One second, two seconds, three seconds. Ding ding, ding ding—the phone rang again. It was still Warden Zhou. <br><br> <br>When I answered, he reeked of alcohol. "Sweetheart, where are you?" <br><br> <br>I responded, "This is Yichuan, Officer Zhou." <br><br> <br>He suddenly switched to a clear tone, enunciating each word. "Oh, sorry. Wrong number!" <br><br> <br>It was obvious he was hinting at secrets and benefits, speaking this way to avoid being recorded. By making two calls, only the last one would show in the call records, overwriting the previous one. <br><br> <br>The dark night mirrored the situation, concealing filth and greed. I looked at Jin zhao's photo. In it, he smiled at me—that mocking smile. I stared at him and murmured, "I won't uncover any secrets anymore. Under the sunlight, everything is ordinary. You don't need to worry about me." <br><br> <br>The next day, to avoid creditors causing trouble, I informed no one except Xiahe, who accompanied me to send my father off on his final journey. Together, we collected my father’s ashes into a box. I wrapped the urn in red cloth. The funeral home staff told me, "Don't put it down anywhere. Always hold it. It mustn't touch the ground until burial day." <br><br> <br>The box was so small. I felt like I was cradling it as if holding a baby. Step by step, I carried him to his grave. <br><br> <br>My father's name was Jin zhao, born the same year as New China. He was born to a family with political issues. My grandfather had joined the Kuomintang early on. The family had six children, all boys, with Jin zhao being the eldest. Just as the doctor said, his name was inspired by "Today's stage belongs to the true legends." From a young age, he excelled at everything, becoming a role model at school. <br><br> <br>The family was very poor. After school, he often picked up coal slag and scraps to exchange for money. Whenever his younger brothers made mistakes, it was Jin zhao who bore their father's beatings and scoldings. He wanted to succeed and uplift the family, as if his name had carved this mission into his heart. <br><br> <br>He excelled academically, became captain of the school's basketball team, but couldn't join the Youth League because of his father’s past with the Kuomintang. He desperately tried to prove himself, participating in every political movement at the forefront, hoping to integrate into the mainstream. <br><br> <br>When he was about to take college entrance exams, the nation suspended them, implementing the urban youth relocation program. After a few years, he returned to his hometown and was assigned to work at a hospital. He studied hard and, after the reinstatement of college entrance exams, self-studied his way into a bachelor's program at a medical university. <br><br> <br>His exceptional grades earned him the National Independent Learning Excellence Award, which still sits in our bookshelf alongside his other awards. But he still couldn't join the mainstream. He couldn't join the Party. Time and again, when he approached leaders, they told him, "You have a bad family background." <br><br> <br>Indeed, in that era, people were classified by their background. In his mind, joining the Party was the only way to start his career, to climb the ranks—become a department head, a section chief, a hospital director... But it seems fate had sealed off his path to becoming a true legend.)
