A Tattoo That Can’t Be Removed

Later, the hospital enforced a strict no-noise policy, and Wei Yan was asked to leave. After that, Dad didn’t make it through the emergency; when he was wheeled out, his face was covered with a white cloth.

The words in front of me blurred to the point of being unreadable, and it took me a long time to realize that it was my hand trembling as I held the critical condition notice.

Yes, I had indeed thought about the possibility of Dad leaving me during those days he spent in the ICU. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, yet when some things happen, people tend to stubbornly refuse to believe.

I listened numbly to the doctor’s instructions, who asked if I had any family members who could be present. I shook my head. They then asked if I wanted to see the body one last time. I gazed at the white cloth and shook my head again.

I feared that if I saw his face again, I would be reminded of him, of that morning when I sent him off, the dew of dawn still lingering between his brows, walking ahead of me, as always, breaking through the mist of the small town.

I knew it was Wei Yan who secretly helped me with the funeral arrangements.

There were quite a few mourners, and I was busy attending to them, rushing through the day. But at night, everything seemed to remind me of him.

I remembered the kite he helped me fly when I was little, the Taiyi Pig made from small paper strips, soaring far, far away.

He always lived simply; if it weren’t for my return, he wouldn’t have bothered with lavish meals. That day, he said the fish was the last one left by the fish vendor, and he hurried to buy it because I had come back.

On the fourth day after Dad’s passing, Wei Yan came too.

I didn’t know how to look at him. It felt like events from just a few months ago had torn us apart. Wei Yan, dressed in a black trench coat, bowed his head as he entered the memorial hall, and we just silently stared at each other.

“My condolences.”

His voice always managed to stir the deepest emotions within me.

“Go away.”

The sunset dipped into the gray edges of the city, and I lowered my head to avoid looking at him. The town was silent, and most of the mourners had visited. He stood before me, his shadow enveloping me.

“If you want to cry, just cry.”

His words, always soft and low, seemed to deliberately provoke emotions, tugging at my heart.

These past few days, I’ve been muddling through, thinking I was calm, believing I could accept losing someone. But because of his words, all my efforts crumbled.

Dad’s portrait was his favorite photo.

He had bragged about it to me over the phone, telling me to visit that photo studio next time.

But at some point, the color turned to black and white, and that phone call would never come again.

I never imagined I would cry so hysterically.

Wei Yan sat beside me, listening to my sobs. As I cried, I thought of him and directed my anger at him.

“You’re no good either!”

I turned to glare at him, only to be pulled into his arms.

I struggled, but his hand held my waist firmly, his chin resting on top of my head.

“Yeah.”

“Let go of me, let go of me, Wei Yan!!”

He didn’t move, continuing to hold me tightly in his embrace.

I wiped all my tears on his trench coat, and he didn’t mind. After a long while, he looked down at me.