Chapter Ninety-Eight: He Is Unworthy

Chapter Ninety-Eight: He Is Not Worthy

Qian Huiwen gently shook her head in response to Bai Zeshao’s reply.

“Sis, am I wrong? Today is indeed November 28th,” Bai Zeshao said, casting a surprised glance at Qian Huiwen.

Qian Huiwen lifted the wine glass on the table and took a sip before shaking her head lightly once more. “It’s nothing. Let’s eat first. After the meal, you and I will go somewhere.”

“Alright,” Bai Zeshao said promptly just as the waiter brought the dishes.

During the meal, the atmosphere was somewhat somber and solemn. Qian Huiwen remained silent. Bai Zeshao, unsure why she had invited him to eat, tried to break the ice. “Sis, about the celebration banquet the other day, I’m really sorry—I forgot to invite you.”

“It’s nothing. I went anyway. I suppose you all didn’t have much fun without me,” Qian Huiwen said indifferently.

He chuckled awkwardly. Seeing Qian Huiwen keep her head down, he didn’t know what else to say.

Qian Huiwen had little appetite and ate sparingly, but Bai Zeshao was genuinely hungry and ate more. When they finished, Bai Zeshao glanced hesitantly at Qian Huiwen.

“Are you full?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” he nodded firmly.

“Then let’s go,” Qian Huiwen said, leading the way out of the restaurant, with Bai Zeshao hurrying to follow.

Driving Qian Huiwen’s car, Bai Zeshao followed her directions as the vehicle slowly left the city of Shanning. Several times, he glanced at Qian Huiwen in the passenger seat, finally asking, “Sis, where exactly are we going?”

“We’re almost there. Just keep driving straight ahead,” Qian Huiwen replied, eyes closed, as if intimately familiar with the route.

“Oh,” Bai Zeshao said quietly, not pressing further.

After about an hour, the road ended, and Bai Zeshao had to stop the car. Before he could say anything, Qian Huiwen opened her eyes and said, “We’ve arrived,” then pushed open the door and stepped out.

The cold wind howled, and Bai Zeshao looked at Qian Huiwen beside him.

“Follow me,” she said, leading the way toward a nearby patch of wild grass.

They stopped before a desolate mound—no headstone, no markers whatsoever.

The mound was overgrown with weeds, some reaching nearly knee-high.

If Qian Huiwen hadn’t stopped here, Bai Zeshao might have thought it was just a heap of earth, not a grave.

He examined the weed-choked mound, clearly neglected for a long time.

Looking again at this barren grave and then at the silent Qian Huiwen, Bai Zeshao rolled up his sleeves, ready to pull the weeds.

But as he took a step, Qian Huiwen stopped him. “Don’t.”

“Oh,” Bai Zeshao nodded. “Then this grave…”

Qian Huiwen took a deep breath and spoke softly, “Let me tell you a story. A few years ago, there was a young soldier—exceptional in every way, favored by the military’s top brass, with a bright future ahead. He also had an equally outstanding girlfriend.”

“They were even on the verge of marriage. But all that happiness was like a bubble—fragile and easily broken, vanishing overnight.”

“Is that the end of the story?” Bai Zeshao asked, curious as he looked at Qian Huiwen’s calm face.

“The ending? Haven’t you seen it? He lies here in this forsaken field, not even a single visitor to his grave,” Qian Huiwen’s voice deepened with emotion—pain, resentment, and a hint of unwillingness.

“Sis, you’re the girlfriend in the story, aren’t you?” Bai Zeshao asked, having already guessed the truth.

“You’re right,” Qian Huiwen nodded. “Today is November 28th, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Bai Zeshao answered.

“His birthday was November 28th. Coincidentally, he died on November 28th, too. So today is both his birthday and his death anniversary,” Qian Huiwen said, her gaze fixed on the grave.

“Sis, then why not tidy up this place?” Bai Zeshao gestured toward the weeds-covered mound, puzzled.

“He’s not worthy,” Qian Huiwen said painfully, her expression a mixture of grief, resentment, and defiance.

Bai Zeshao was stunned. He could tell the bond between them was deep, but why would Qian Huiwen speak so decisively?

In the biting wind, Bai Zeshao seemed to see Qian Huiwen’s shoulders trembling slightly. After a long pause, he cautiously ventured, “Sis, why did we come here today?”

“Xiao Bai, you may have always wondered why I care for you so much. We’re not related, and you have nothing worth coveting,” Qian Huiwen said, sidestepping his question.

Indeed, this was something Bai Zeshao had been curious about, so he looked at her attentively.

“Because you remind me of him,” she murmured softly.

“Remind you? Do we really look alike?” Bai Zeshao was surprised by the answer—it sounded like a scene from a movie.

“No, you don’t look alike at all,” Qian Huiwen shook her head, denying his guess.

“Uh…” Bai Zeshao was momentarily speechless, awkwardly scratching his head.

“What I mean is, you resemble him in temperament and demeanor. You two are truly alike,” Qian Huiwen continued, seemingly unaware of his embarrassment.

“I see,” Bai Zeshao murmured.

Then Qian Huiwen turned to him and said, “I only brought you here today so he could see you. There’s nothing more to it.”

The sun was setting, the cold wind howling, and Bai Zeshao shivered at her words. The idea of a dead man watching him was chilling.

Still, he quickly composed himself and glanced at the time—it was past five in the afternoon. “Sis, it’s getting late and the road is rough. Shall we head back?”

“Yes, let’s go,” Qian Huiwen nodded.

The car soon departed. On the way back, Bai Zeshao noticed Qian Huiwen’s mood seemed calm and tentatively asked, “Sis, can I ask how he ended up buried in such a place without a name?”

Qian Huiwen was silent for a long time. Just as Bai Zeshao was about to give up, she finally spoke: “Because he was a member of the Red Party—a man who would rather die than abandon his faith.”

“You said you resemble him so closely. He was a Red Party member. What about you?” At the last words, Qian Huiwen suddenly turned her head sharply, fixing Bai Zeshao with a piercing gaze.