Chapter 255: Chapter 239: Death is Not Losing Life, but Stepping Out of Time (Life and Death Illusion Realm·Middle)_2
[What is called death is merely the cessation of those previous days repeating endlessly.]
[Death has never been a constant term.]
[It’s like someone brushing past you, perhaps that one chance encounter is your last meeting in this life.]
[You think, maybe true death is disappearing forever in the hearts of those who truly care about you.]
[The spring passes and autumn comes, time cycles on.]
[Another long winter, your father suddenly fell seriously ill, and his condition rapidly declined. In just a few days, he aged decades, his hair turned grey, his body became emaciated, and his eyes sunk.]
[A sense of death pervaded his being.]
[That day, you knelt at his bedside.]
[You’ve seen so many people at the brink of death, you know, your father was about to depart this world completely.]
[At that moment, you who thought you had already seen through life and death, sobbed uncontrollably, cried till you were unrecognizable.]
[Your father shakily reached out his dry, aged hand, gently wiped away your tears with his rough fingers, then smiled and said:]
"Xingyazi, don’t cry. Do you still remember what your father used to tell you? Death is not scary, nor is it the opposite of life. It persists as a part of life!"
[In an instant, you were suddenly taken aback.]
[Death is not the opposite of life, but persists as a part of life!]
[Indeed... life and death have never been apart!]
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(Friendly Reminder: For the following content, if convenient, you might want to open the music app on your phone, search for the song "There Are So Many People in This World", and read along with the background music for an enhanced effect~~~)
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[This long winter, your father ultimately did not make it through.]
[Year after year, it turned out to be a real barrier.]
[According to your father’s last wishes, he said he had handled too many funerals for others in this lifetime, and to sum it up in one word, it’s exhausting.]
[If he were to die, just carry him to a nice place and bury him, no need for all the formalities.]
[It’s not only a waste of effort and money but also causes unrest after death.]
[You followed his wishes, without any grand ceremony, but found a sunny slope and buried him there.]
[That day, heavy snow was falling, the world was wrapped in a silver mantle.]
[You wore mourning clothes, carried the coffin, and headed up the mountain.]
[The piercing cold wind cut like a knife, you carried the coffin, walking on the snow-covered mountain path, leaving one deep and one shallow footprint after another.]
[In your lifetime, you’ve carried many coffins, but you never thought you would eventually carry your father’s coffin.]
[Then, you shoveled the snow with each swing, dug the earth, and struggling to catch your breath, you placed his coffin in.]
[Father lay quietly in the coffin, just as he usually slept, only his pale face was a bit unsettling.]
[A thin layer of frost and snow fell on him, forming crystalline ice flowers on his eyebrows and eyelids.]
[Throughout his life, he rarely praised you. Communication between you as father and son was also sparse, and even when there was talk, it was usually him scolding you for being careless, unable to do things right, claiming you would amount to nothing in the future.]
[When you were young, hearing him say these words, you would always argue fiercely with him, angry at why your father couldn’t say something nice.]
[But now, as you look at your father quietly lying in the coffin, you so wish he could get up and scold you as he used to, no matter how harshly he berates you, you’d gladly accept it and not argue with him anymore.]
[But, there’s no longer that chance.]
[The old master beside you wiped the mouth of his tobacco pipe, then tossed the pouch and pipe to you.]
[You squatted by the grave, puffing on the tobacco one drag after another.]
[The old master said beside you: "Xingyazi, don’t blame your father for being so harsh on you back then. People of our generation didn’t receive much education, don’t know how to preach, it’s everyone’s first time being a person, being a father, who knows how to teach a child? But we all know we will leave this world before you, don’t we have to seize the time we’re here to teach you all that we know? Otherwise, we won’t rest in peace after we’re gone."]
[You puffed on the tobacco one mouthful after another, without responding.]
[Later, you took one last look at your father, sealed the coffin, and covered it with soil, handful by handful.]
[On the way down the mountain, the footprints you left in the snow before were already covered by fresh snow, leaving no trace.]
[Everything seemed as if no mark had ever been left before.]
[You were involuntarily lost in thought, gaining a new understanding of death.]
[What is death? It’s an endpoint, a farewell, an irretrievable loss, a hand you can no longer hold, a warmth you can no longer feel, words you can no longer say, ’Dad, I’m home’.]
[Death is like an eternal lighthouse, no matter which direction you sail, you will ultimately turn toward it.]
[In a daze, you look back toward the sunny slope.]
[The snow was falling heavily, an isolated grave stood, the white Soul Banner fluttering in the cold wind, yellow paper swept away by the wind, drifting afar.]
[By the time spring returns the following year, this hillside will see flowers bloom, bathed in sunlight, with endless new life emerging from it.]