The day Jack Sullivan was admitted to the ICU, I broke up with him, tired of living in constant danger by his side. I left the country and got married. While he was struggling for his life, I didn’t even visit him once. He hated me to the bone. Three years later, his grandfather dragged him back to their hometown to exhume and rebury the remains from an unmarked grave. Jack held a wrist bone in his hand and said coldly, “Rachel Sullivan, why couldn’t it have been you who died?” But he didn’t know. The skeleton he was picking up with his own hands was mine. … July had just arrived when a heavy rainstorm hit, washing away my grave. It rained for several days. As soon as the sky cleared, I saw a figure stumbling towards me, step by step. I sat in front of the tombstone and greeted Grandpa, but I watched as he slowly crouched down, digging at the soil bit by bit with his aged hands, trying to rebury my coffin. “Oh, my poor child! What are we going to do?” he lamented. My heart ached. I wanted to help Grandpa up and tell him it was okay, but my hand passed right through his body. I kept forgetting that I had been dead for three years. As Grandpa continued digging, a sudden clarity flashed in his cloudy eyes. He muttered to himself, “A wet grave won’t do. Rachel won’t rest in peace… We need to exhume the remains and rebury them. Yes, that’s it.” He then shakily pulled out his phone from his pocket. The old man’s fingers were stiff, pausing after each number, but he persevered and dialed his grandson’s number. “Jack, come back quickly! It’s an emergency!” I tried to stop Grandpa when he dialed that familiar number, but as a mere soul, I could do nothing. So I could only clasp my hands together and silently pray that Jack wouldn’t come. “Grandpa, what’s wrong? Don’t worry, I’ll take leave and come right away.” …My last hope died. After hanging up, Grandpa sat dazed for a while, then stood up and stumbled towards home. “Grandpa! You’ve really done it this time! Didn’t we agree to keep it a secret?” I knew Grandpa couldn’t hear me, but I couldn’t help nagging as I followed behind him. Before I knew it, I had followed Grandpa back home. I was both surprised and delighted. For the past three years, I could only move within ten meters of my grave. It had been suffocating. I hovered near Grandpa’s shoulder, as if I were still alive. Over the years, Jack had repeatedly suggested that Grandpa move to the city with him, but each time Grandpa refused. Jack thought Grandpa just couldn’t bear to leave his hometown, but I understood. Grandpa was afraid the little girl he had raised since childhood would be lonely, so he stayed here. The next day, Jack arrived. He looked rushed and disheveled, clearly having traveled in haste. He crouched down to be at eye level with Grandpa, who was sitting, and carefully checked if he had any injuries. “Grandpa, are you alright? What happened? Why did you call me back so urgently?” Grandpa’s gaze was somewhat unfocused, and he spoke haltingly but with obvious anxiety: “Wet grave… not good, move… need to move… exhume!” Exhuming remains, also known as bone washing, refers to the ritual of opening a grave years after burial, collecting the remains, and reburying them. Jack frowned. Having grown up with his grandfather, he naturally understood some of the techniques of exhuming remains, but he didn’t understand. His parents’ ashes were buried in a cemetery after cremation, so whose bones did Grandpa want to exhume? I floated in front of Jack, my hand gently caressing his face. The man before me had grown thinner, darker, with unshaven stubble on his face. “Jack? So this is your home.” I saw a beautiful woman appear at the door, her voice filled with intimacy and dependence. Jack nodded in response and continued questioning Grandpa, “Grandpa, whose bones are we exhuming?” Grandpa’s eyes were still somewhat confused as he spoke unclearly. “It’s… Ra…chel.” My mind went blank, and I froze in place. Then I heard Jack laugh coldly. “Her? Good riddance.”
Jack and I grew up together as family and were also lovers who understood each other’s hearts. But when we parted, it was ugly. In front of everyone, I argued with Jack, saying I was tired of living in constant danger with him, tired of the anxiety-filled life. I said I had found a rich man and was preparing to go abroad to marry him. I had never said such hurtful things before, and naturally, Jack didn’t believe it. He lay in the ICU for a month, constantly mumbling that he wanted to see me when he was conscious, but I never showed up. I even had someone tell him that we were done for good. Finally, he gave up hope. His hatred for me was justified. Meanwhile, Jack thought that since Grandpa had mistaken that grave for Rachel Sullivan’s, he would go check it out to give Grandpa an explanation, so he could quickly return to the police station. I followed behind Jack, afraid he would recognize my remains. His junior, Emily Johnson, also followed behind him. “Jack,” she said coquettishly, “who was that person Grandpa mentioned earlier?” I saw Jack’s footsteps falter. “A liar.” “Is that so? I thought it might be your girlfriend. People at the police station all say… you had a girlfriend you were about to marry before.” “If it were her… I’d hope it really was her buried in that grave.” He muttered softly, but I heard it all. “But why would Grandpa bring up a liar?” Jack was clearly annoyed by topics related to me. “Why keep talking about this?” Emily pouted. “Fine.” Soon, we arrived at my tombstone. Emily looked around, seeing only dense forest. The heavy rain had mercilessly uncovered this piece of land, the soil had slid away, and the grave had collapsed, revealing the place where I had long been resting. The coffin lay there alone, looking somewhat eerie. “Jack, this place is scary.” Jack said impatiently, “Emily, no one asked you to come along. I promised your dad I’d take care of you, but you don’t need to follow me everywhere.” His junior felt a bit hurt by these words and lowered her head, no longer speaking. However, she still followed behind Jack. The path was uneven, and she accidentally twisted her ankle, the pain bringing tears to her eyes. Jack was crouching down to examine the unmarked tombstone. Hearing her soft cry, he stopped and looked back. Seeing the pain on his junior’s face, he sighed. He walked over, bent down, and carried her on his back. “Let’s head back,” Jack said softly. Emily smiled secretly on Jack’s back. “I knew Jack was the best,” she said. Watching them, I remembered when Jack and I were young. When I couldn’t walk on mountain paths, I would pretend to twist my ankle to get Jack to carry me. Every time, he would do this – his face full of impatience, grumbling, “Not again. Why are you so delicate?” But even so, he would still crouch down, turn his back to me, sigh softly, and say, “Come on, get on.” I would climb onto his back with a smile, my arms around his neck. The mountain path was steep, but his steps were so steady it was reassuring. From his back, I could see far into the distance, as if I could see our future. His future might now include a new girl. Reaching this conclusion, my eyes stung. I immediately rubbed my face hard. Rachel! Wake up! You’re already dead! His bride will never be you! Jack didn’t know why, but ever since he arrived here, he had felt uneasy, as if some primordial instinct was warning him. This feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to him. Many times during missions, he had relied on this intuition to escape danger. However, this panic now was more intense and rapid than ever before. Jack suddenly looked back, and I stared at him, momentarily unable to distinguish between dream and reality. For that instant, his gaze seemed to cross the boundary between life and death, seeing my soul… I hurriedly averted my gaze, my heart racing. It’s impossible for him to see me! I remembered when we were young, Jack always boasted about being the world’s bravest man, fearing nothing. But then I discovered he was afraid of ghosts, and I teased him about it for a long time. If he could really see me now, he’d be scared to death. I clutched my chest, cursing myself for becoming so sentimental after becoming a ghost, aching at every little thing.
When Grandpa saw the two return, he put down the rag doll in his hand. “How did it go?” he asked, tightly gripping Jack’s arm. Jack tried to reassure him, “Grandpa, it’s too late today. I’ll bring the tools tomorrow and officially open the coffin then.” Emily stepped forward, flashing a sweet smile, and said ingratiatingly, “Grandpa, you should rest now. I’ll accompany Jack tomorrow and keep an eye on him.” Grandpa looked at her, a flash of confusion in his eyes. He picked up the rag doll again and said softly, “I don’t know you. Where’s Rachel?” “Jack, hurry and bring Rachel back. Don’t let her stay away from home for too long.” Upon hearing these words, Jack’s expression instantly darkened, as if something had stung him. “Don’t mention her anymore, Grandpa.” “It’s too late, she’ll be cold.” “Grandpa! She’s not coming back.” Jack’s chest heaved violently. “You need to coax her properly.” “Grandpa!” He snatched the rag doll from Grandpa’s hand and threw it out the window, his voice trembling as he said, “Grandpa, how many times do I have to tell you? She left with someone else! She doesn’t want us anymore, doesn’t want me!” Startled by Jack’s actions, Grandpa turned and glared at him angrily, “That’s not true! Rachel must be hiding because that rascal Jack upset her. She can’t find her way home. Rachel always listens to me. I’ll wait for her here, she’ll definitely come back.” Jack clenched his jaw tightly. He had tried so hard to forget her, why did everyone keep reminding him that he had been abandoned? Those past events always left behind sharp remnants that cut deep new wounds every time they were mentioned. His eyes were bloodshot from the emotional turmoil. He instinctively reached into his pocket for eye drops but found nothing. Seeing this scene, my heart ached. Don’t argue because of me, it’s not worth it, it’s not worth it! Suddenly, I remembered my childhood promise to protect this family. I was an orphan saved by Jack’s parents, who were both police officers. When I was rescued as a child, I was covered in wounds, so thin it was hard to tell if I was a boy or a girl. The orphanage staff said children like me were hard to adopt. I huddled in a corner, thinking I was about to be abandoned again. But Jack’s parents came over, patted my head, and asked me, “Would you like to live with us?” The feeling at that moment was indescribable. It was like enjoying a warm cup of milk in the bitter cold, finding an umbrella in the rain, or waking up to sunshine on your bed. From then on, I had a family. But I couldn’t do anything in return. Instead, I made Grandpa bury his grandchild and caused them to argue incessantly. The atmosphere remained tense, the stuffiness in the room almost suffocating. Just then, a cheerful voice came from outside. “Jack! Oh my, you came back home in such a hurry without even telling me!” It was Alex Chen, Jack’s and my childhood friend. As soon as Alex entered, he looked around and said with a smile, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been back. This place hasn’t changed at all.” He knew I had passed away, but because he had to keep it from Jack, he never dared to come and pay his respects to me. Jack asked with some surprise, “Why are you here too? Isn’t the hospital busy?” Alex patted Jack’s shoulder and replied, “Well, I heard about the heavy rain back home. I figured I’d take some annual leave and check on Grandpa while I’m at it.” “But what’s going on here? Why is everyone so serious?” Alex asked. Jack briefly explained the situation. After listening, Alex furrowed his brow, looking thoughtful. “Oh, that’s simple. If you’re busy with work, go back to the police station. Leave the exhumation to me. I’ve dealt with more dead bodies than you have.” Alex said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. Jack lowered his eyes and pressed his lips together, noncommittal: “Grandpa seems to care a lot about that body.” “Grandpa’s getting old, maybe he just got confused. Don’t worry, I’ve seen Grandpa exhume remains before. How hard can it be to copy what he does?” Alex patted his chest, putting on a confident air. Jack hesitated for a moment. Alex’s proposal was indeed the best option, but he still felt something was off. Alex didn’t give him time to think: “By the way, aren’t you going to introduce me to…” Jack paused, then introduced, “This is my boss’s daughter, Emily Johnson.” Emily extended her hand, smiling, “Hello, I’m Emily Johnson.” Her hand lingered in the air for a moment, but Alex pretended not to notice her gesture. He turned and patted Jack’s shoulder, his tone teasing: “Jack, you lucky dog. You’ve got a beauty by your side.” Emily awkwardly withdrew her hand, her smile becoming a bit stiff. She was about to explain. But before she could speak, Jack coldly rebuked, “Alex!” Alex shrugged, putting on an indifferent air, and muttered, “I was just joking, don’t take it seriously.” “Alright, alright, everyone go rest now. I’ll sleep with Grandpa tonight, you two can each take a room. There’s a train you can catch together early tomorrow morning.” Alex hurried Jack off to rest. Emily felt a bit disappointed. She had come to make a good impression on Jack’s family, but they had settled everything in just a few words. She couldn’t say anything more and could only silently follow behind. Just then, Jack suddenly stopped in his tracks. He turned back, asking as if casually, “After she went to America, did you hear any news about her?” He didn’t mention a name, but Alex knew who Jack was referring to. My heart instantly jumped to my throat. Alex was taken aback for a moment, then replied, “What are you talking about? Didn’t she go to France?”
After Jack left, Alex and I both let out a long sigh of relief. That moment seemed to make the air in the entire room a bit lighter. Alex sat next to Grandpa, cursing under his breath, “This guy’s using his police interrogation tactics on me. Good thing I’m quick-witted.” I sat beside Alex, feeling so tense I was almost faint. My emotions that night had been like a rollercoaster, up and down, unable to calm down. Late at night, the house gradually quieted down. I gazed at the moon outside the window, its silver-white light spilling into the courtyard, making everything seem particularly peaceful. Occasionally, the sound of insects chirping reached my ears, adding a touch of life to this quiet night. I knew that once Jack left tomorrow, it might be our final goodbye. I understood that I should go see him one last time, but I was afraid that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to let go. As I was struggling with this dilemma, I heard a soft creak. Jack gently pushed open the door and walked into the small courtyard. The faint moonlight fell on the ground. Using this dim light, he searched for something. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. He crouched down and carefully picked up the rag doll, gently brushing off the dirt. So, he came to find Bebe? Bebe was my rag doll. I took it everywhere with me; I couldn’t sleep without it. Jack stared blankly at the doll, his expression somewhat dazed. He murmured softly to himself, “Did she not want you either?” My heart ached. This doll was my most important companion, and he always knew what it meant to me. Seeing him now, holding Bebe so preciously, tears welled up in my eyes. I knew him too well. He must have started to suspect something. His intuition had always been sharp, especially after he became a police officer. His keen observation and judgment made it even harder to deceive him. I consoled myself that as long as nothing unexpected happened, he would leave tomorrow. Then everything would return to normal, and my secret would remain undiscovered. Early the next morning, just as dawn was breaking, someone knocked on our door. The knocking sound seemed particularly jarring in the quiet morning. My heart suddenly leaped; for some reason, I had an ominous feeling. “Jack, are you there?” Mrs. Thompson from next door stood at the small courtyard gate, knocking and calling out. Jack went over and learned that last night, someone had taken advantage of the darkness to rob the graves around the village. Mrs. Thompson was asking him, as a police officer, to help investigate. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Thompson. I’ll handle it as soon as possible,” Jack reassured her while quickly changing his shoes to go out and taking out his phone to cancel his train ticket. Watching this scene, Alex couldn’t help but try to dissuade him: “Jack, do you really have to go?” Jack coldly retorted: “Can you mimic catching thieves too?” After saying this, he thought for a moment, then turned back to grab the exhumation tools, clearly planning to handle both matters. Alex and Emily volunteered to help, and even Grandpa, who wasn’t fully lucid, insisted on going along. So, a large group of people set off towards my grave. I stood behind them, feeling a bit lost, wondering how things had suddenly developed to this point. When we arrived at the gravesite, we found that my coffin had already been pried open. I shouted internally: “Damn it, who would steal from my grave!” Alex’s reaction was even stronger than mine. His face instantly turned ashen, “Who’s so heartless to steal from the dead!” Jack didn’t say anything. He just glanced at the pried-open coffin, thought for a moment, then silently took out his tools, preparing to start the exhumation. Seeing Jack’s attitude, Alex became somewhat irritated and angrily said, “Jack, what do you call this? They didn’t even spare the dead, it’s completely inhumane!” Jack remained silent, continuing his work, and said calmly, “Why are you so angry? You don’t know the deceased. Or do you?” Alex was suddenly at a loss for words, the anger in his heart seemed to be blocked. Jack continued, “This timing is perfect. Let Grandpa watch us finish so he can be at ease, and then I can go catch the thieves.” Alex didn’t say anything more. At the auspicious hour, the exhumation ritual finally began. Jack first lit three incense sticks for the deceased at the grave, then tapped the wall around the tombstone with a large hammer, signaling to the departed about the upcoming actions. Following tradition, he first grasped the hand of the deceased, indicating “we’re going to get up now.” Jack’s expression froze the moment he saw my hand bones. He kept leaning closer, trying hard to discern something, even holding his breath. Slowly, he rubbed the broken joint with his fingertip. I felt a bit scared. He might recognize me. This hand was missing a joint because of saving Jack.
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