I work as a security guard at a cemetery, and I overhear the dead chatting about getting rich quick.

After Lu Zhixia and her group left, Lin Ye sat in the security booth for a long time.

The cemetery entrance fell silent again, with only Uncle Zhao sweeping fallen leaves while glancing at him every now and then.

That look in his eyes was very complicated.

After a long pause, Uncle Zhao sighed.

"Kobayashi."

Lin Ye looked up.

"Um?"

Uncle Zhao said earnestly, "Drink less coffee in the future."

Lin Ye was silent for a moment.

He originally thought Uncle Zhao was going to advise him to avoid picking up bargains, avoid causing trouble, and avoid getting entangled with reporters.

The final result was on the coffee.

As expected of a seasoned security guard, his perspective on issues is truly unique.

Lin Ye nodded.

"I also feel that coffee isn't really for me."

Uncle Zhao said, "It's twenty-eight yuan a cup, and you'll get into trouble after drinking it. The soy milk at the shop near our door is only two yuan and fifty cents, and they even give you a straw."

Lin Ye thought about it seriously.

indeed.

Soy milk will not lead to 420,000 disputes.

I haven't heard of it yet, at least not.

He sat back down in his chair and glanced up at the anti-floating bottle.

The anti-floating bottle stood quietly in the corner, its body ornate and its posture upright.

If it could talk, it would probably say: "See, I warned you a long time ago."

Lin Ye reached out and touched the bottle.

"I will be more careful in the future."

Uncle Zhao happened to come in to pour water, and when he heard this, he paused.

"Kobayashi, are you talking to the bottle again?"

Lin Ye withdrew his hand.

"No, I'm reflecting on it."

Uncle Zhao looked at him, seemingly wanting to say something but then stopping himself.

In the end, he said nothing, but simply put the teacup on the table.

"It's a good thing that young people are willing to reflect."

After saying that, he walked away with his hands behind his back.

Lin Ye felt that Uncle Zhao's tolerance towards him had increased significantly recently.

Perhaps it's because Uncle Zhao has gradually accepted a fact.

College students today face immense pressure upon graduation.

Some people even go so far as to converse with porcelain vases in the cemetery's security booth.

In the afternoon, Lin Ye originally wanted to take a nap.

But as soon as I close my eyes, all I can think about is Lu Zhixia's words.

Some leaks are opportunities.

Some leaks are part of the problem.

This sentence is like a fishbone stuck in my throat; it doesn't hurt, but it's very noticeable.

When he used to listen to dead people talking, his first thought was always about money.

Whose stamp album is being sold as scrap?

Whose snuff bottle is being exchanged for cigarettes?

Whose bracelet was mistaken for a crack?

Whose painting is hanging in the toilet?

But after the coffee shop owner blocked the door, Lin Ye suddenly realized something.

Money doesn't just fall into his hands out of thin air.

It must have come from someone else.

Sometimes it's just that others don't understand.

Sometimes it's because others don't want it.

Sometimes it's because others no longer have the chance to ask for it.

This is legal in a legal sense.

But that doesn't mean there will never be consequences.

He pulled out a small notebook; the first few pages were full of notes.

Old Qin from the south of the city.

Stamp album.

Six thousand eight.

Nanqiao Secondhand Market.

snuff bottle.

Thirty-two thousand.

Anti-floating bottle.

Eighteen thousand lessons.

Jadeite bracelet.

160,000.

Liang Yansheng's early landscape paintings.

420,000.

Each item was marked with a checkmark.

Those marks used to look like battle records.

Looking at it now, it does resemble a criminal record.

Lin Ye stared at the notebook for a few minutes, then silently closed it.

Forget it.

One should not dwell on one's past wealth accumulation and reflect upon it.

It's easy to discover psychological problems through self-reflection.

Lin Ye was on duty as usual that night.

Uncle Zhao gave him these instructions before he left work.

"Kobayashi, be quiet tonight."

Lin Ye was stunned for a moment.

"Uncle Zhao, this doesn't entirely depend on me."

Uncle Zhao glanced at him.

"If it doesn't depend on you, then who does it depend on?"

Lin Ye thought for a moment.

"It depends on fate."

Uncle Zhao paused for a moment while holding the teacup.

"You've been talking more and more like a fortune teller lately."

After saying that, Uncle Zhao picked up his bag and left.

The daytime security booth was completely handed over to the night.

There are ten minutes left until midnight.

The group of dead people in the East District haven't even started talking yet.

The cemetery is quiet for the time being.

The quiet made Lin Ye feel a little uneasy.

He used to be afraid that the cemetery was too quiet.

Now I'm actually afraid that the cemetery won't open its doors.

This shows that people do change.

When he first started working there, he thought the sound coming from the grave was like something out of a horror movie.

Now he feels there's no sound in the grave, like no one paying wages after work.

Right after midnight, the East District came alive.

Old Li still started by scolding his grandson.

"I'm telling you, my grandson didn't come to see me again today."

Boss Wei replied lazily.

"When did your grandson come to visit?"

Old Li retorted angrily, "That's why I said 'again'!"

Principal Chen said earnestly, "Semantically speaking, the word 'again' is used correctly here."

Old Zhou said slowly, "Old Chen, you even need to correct this?"

Grandma Zhao chuckled.

"You lot, you won't even have peace after you're dead."

Old Ma followed closely behind and squeezed in.

"It's better if things don't stop. Like my spinning bottle, the person who truly understands it will appear sooner or later."

Boss Wei immediately said, "It's here, the customer service of the crafts factory."

The East District was filled with laughter.

Lin Ye sat in the security booth and chuckled along.

This familiar noise made him feel a little more at ease.

As long as they continue to make noise like this, Qingshan Cemetery will remain Qingshan Cemetery.

absurd.

lively.

Gossip.

But it's not that scary.

Lin Ye listened for a while, originally planning to eat instant noodles.

Just as the water was boiling, the patrol alarm clock suddenly went off.

Time to patrol the West District.

He glanced out the window.

In the East District, there are streetlights, tombstones, the sound of wind, and a group of dead people making as much noise as a night market.

The West District is different.

The western district is older.

Two streetlights broke, and the pine and cypress trees grew even denser.

As Uncle Zhao mentioned before, the information on those old tombs in the western area is incomplete, and some are so old that the families have long lost contact with them.

Lin Ye didn't like going that way before.

It's not because I'm afraid.

The main reason is that there aren't any legends of wealth there.

At least no one has mentioned the monkey stamp, snuff bottle, or jade bracelet.

The lack of profit is terrifying; the cost-effectiveness is too low.

But the patrol route cannot be skipped.

Lin Ye picked up the stun gun and flashlight, and then glanced at the anti-floating bottle.

"I'm just doing my regular patrol."

He said to the bottle.

"I will never pick up things on my own initiative."

After saying that, he himself felt a little sad.

I used to be afraid of encountering ghosts on my way to work.

Now, even when I'm at work, I have to promise the porcelain vase that I won't make money recklessly.

Life is becoming more and more about process.

Lin Ye walked out of the security booth and headed west along the stone-paved road.

The night wind was a bit chilly.

The noise from the east side faded into the distance.

After passing a row of old pine trees, the sound suddenly seemed to be blocked by something.

The surroundings became quiet.

The tombstones in the west section are much older than those in the east section.

Some of the photos have turned white.

Some of the inscriptions were blurred by the rain.

Several tombs even had cracked offering tables in front of them.

When the flashlight beam swept across, dust particles floated gently within the beam.

Lin Ye walked forward, stepping on the fallen leaves.

A cracking sound came from beneath my feet.

He glanced down at it.

A dry tree branch.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

That's just how people are.

Even though I know I can hear dead people talking, I still get nervous when I break a tree branch at night.

Ability is one thing, but ability is another.

One may be bold, but that's all there is to it.

When the patrol reached the innermost part of the western district, Lin Ye suddenly stopped.

There is a tomb ahead.

It's older than the ones next to it.

There was no photo on the tombstone.

The name was worn away and became very blurry, with only a few illegible strokes remaining.

A thick layer of dust covered the altar, and a few rotten leaves lay in the corner.

It looks like no one has been here for many years.

Lin Ye originally intended to go around it.

But just as he turned around, he suddenly heard a very faint noise.

sizzle.

sizzle.

Like an old radio with a bad signal.

Lin Ye stopped in his tracks.

The sound didn't come from the East District.

Right beside him.

It's in that nameless old tomb.

Lin Ye's back slowly tensed up.

He gripped the flashlight tightly and asked in a low voice.

"Who?"

Of course, no one answered him.

To be precise, no living person answered him.

From that nameless old tomb, a series of intermittent sounds came again.

"Don't……"

Lin Ye stopped breathing.

"let……"

The sound was too soft.

It's so light it would scatter in the wind.

Lin Ye took a step forward.

The flashlight beam fell on the tombstone.

Moss grew along the edges of the tombstone, and the inscription was missing a few strokes, making the name almost unrecognizable.

The sound rang out again.

"Take it..."

Lin Ye's palms began to sweat.

This isn't the kind of vulgar, street-swearing chat that Lao Li and his friends have.

It wasn't the pretentious, scholarly tone of Mr. Liang either.

The voice sounded weak.

It's very far.

It's like someone standing at the bottom of a deep well, trying to shout upwards.

Lin Ye lowered his head and quickly took out his notebook.

He wrote:

Unmarked graves in the western area.

The sound was very weak.

Don't... let... take it away...

After writing those words, he felt a little uneasy.

It's not because of getting rich.

This is because it doesn't seem like a clue to making money.

It sounds more like a cry for help.

Lin Ye leaned forward again.

"Take what?"

He knew the other person couldn't hear him, but he still couldn't help asking.

The nameless tomb was silent for a few seconds.

Then, the voice became even more indistinct.

"no……"

"Their..."

Lin Ye paused, his pen poised.

Not theirs.

This sentence contains a lot of information.

Just as he was about to continue taking notes, a cat's meow suddenly came from afar.

"Meow--"

Lin Ye's hand trembled, and he almost drew on the page.

He turned around abruptly.

An orange cat stood where the streetlight was broken, its eyes briefly illuminated by the flashlight beam.

Lin Ye let out a long breath.

"Cat Bro".

He lowered his voice.

"Could you please let us know before you come on stage?"

The orange cat, of course, ignored him.

It flicked its tail and slowly walked past the tomb passage.

As Lin Ye watched its retreating figure, he suddenly realized that being so frightened by a cat was hardly befitting of a seasoned cemetery night shift security guard.

But he quickly turned back.

The nameless old tomb is now quiet.

Lin Ye stood there and waited for half a minute.

Nothing came of it.

The wind is colder in the west than in the east.

The flashlight shone on the tombstone, and the blurry inscription flickered.

Lin Ye suddenly felt that this place was not a good place to stay.

He closed the notebook and turned to walk back.

After walking a dozen steps, a very faint noise sounded behind me.

sizzle.

Lin Ye stopped.

The sound seemed to be coming from a very far place.

"exhibition……"

There is only one word.

It was so light it was almost an illusion.

Lin Ye slowly turned around.

The nameless grave is still there.

The gray tombstone stands in the darkness, like a face whose name has been worn away by the rain.

Lin Ye's Adam's apple bobbed.

He did not approach any further.

He simply lowered his head and added another word to the notebook.

exhibition.

After finishing writing, he quickly walked towards the security booth.

He walked very fast this time.

It's not running.

Running away would seem too cowardly.

But if someone were watching from the sidelines, they would notice that every step he took was driven by a strong will to survive.

Back at the security booth, the noise was still going on in the east area.

Boss Wei was making fun of Old Li.

Old Li is scolding his grandson.

Principal Chen started correcting someone's word choice again.

Even the dead cannot find peace.

Compared to that nameless grave in the West District, the fact that they could argue was actually quite lively.

Lin Ye put the stun gun on the table and reopened the notebook.

He circled the few lines he had just written down.

Unmarked graves in the western area.

The sound was very weak.

Don't let them take it.

Not theirs.

exhibition……

He wrote the last word very lightly.

Because of uncertainty.

exhibition.

What are we exhibiting?

Display case?

Exhibits?

exhibition?

Lin Ye thought for a long time but still couldn't come up with an answer.

He looked up at the anti-floating bottle.

The anti-floating bottle stood silently in the corner, blooming quietly.

Lin Ye said in a low voice, "I really didn't intend to pick it up this time."

The wind blows through the pine and cypress trees outside the window.

Those dead people in the East District are still arguing.

The West District, however, was as quiet as if it had never existed.

Looking at the few fragments in the notebook, Lin Ye realized for the first time that what the dead leave behind is not necessarily an opportunity to make money.

It could also be troublesome.

The next morning, when Uncle Zhao came to hand over the shift, Lin Ye was still awake.

He was slumped over the table, a small notebook beside him, the instant noodles in the bucket lumped together.

As soon as Uncle Zhao entered the door and saw his appearance, his brows furrowed.

"What did you do last night? You look terrible."

Lin Ye looked up, his eyes showing two dark circles.

"Routine patrol."

Uncle Zhao looked at him.

"The moment you say it's normal, I know it's not normal."

Lin Ye was silent for a moment.

He noticed that Uncle Zhao was understanding him more and more lately.

This is not a good thing.

Lin Ye hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Uncle Zhao, do you know whose old tomb is in the innermost part of the west area, where there's no photo and the name is illegible?"

Uncle Zhao stopped pouring water.

He glanced back at Lin Ye.

His eyes looked completely different from yesterday's.

"Where did you go?"

Lin Ye nodded.

"On patrol."

Uncle Zhao remained silent for a few seconds.

"I don't know who it is."

"have no idea?"

"It's an old grave. The records were incomplete in the early years, and it was moved several times later, so some records don't match up. The family hasn't been here for a long time either."

Lin Ye asked, "Can't we even find the name?"

Uncle Zhao sat down with his teacup in hand.

"I could still make out two characters before, but the rain has washed them out a lot in recent years, making them increasingly blurry. There might be old records in the archives, but they might not match."

Lin Ye recalled the intermittent sound from last night, and his heart sank.

A person lives a lifetime, and in the end, all that's left is a tombstone.

Later, even the names on the monument were gradually worn away by the rain.

If he hadn't heard the sound, the tomb would have seemed to have quietly disappeared from the world.

There was no goodbye.

Nobody noticed.

Uncle Zhao said in a low voice, "Avoid touching those old tombs in the western district."

Lin Ye looked up.

Why?

Uncle Zhao glanced at him and continued, "Some of those graves are too old, and the families can't be contacted. The records are also messy. When the cemetery was first restructured, some people came to check the old files, and others asked if they could be moved, merged, or cleaned up. It's troublesome, so it's best to stay away."

Lin Ye's heart skipped a beat when he heard the word "clean up".

"Has someone come to clean it?"

Uncle Zhao frowned.

"I think so, many years ago. I wasn't officially working here back then, but I heard from the older generation that someone came to collect a batch of unwanted old things."

"Old man?"

"Old tombstones, old boxes, old files, and some miscellaneous items left by the family of the deceased. I don't know exactly what they are."

Lin Ye's discomfort became even more pronounced.

Not theirs.

Don't let them take it.

The voice from the nameless tomb and Uncle Zhao's words were like two unrelated fragments that suddenly collided.

Uncle Zhao took a sip of tea and waved his hand.

"Go back to sleep. Don't give yourself more work after just one day of peace and quiet."

Lin Ye looked at Uncle Zhao and suddenly asked, "Uncle Zhao, if no one remembers a person, does that mean they're truly gone?"

Uncle Zhao was stunned for a moment.

"Why are you suddenly asking this?"

Lin Ye shook his head.

"Just asking."

Uncle Zhao remained silent for a moment.

"When people are alive, they are remembered, and when they die, their graves are visited. This leaves them with something to remember. If no one remembers them, the tombstone is covered up, and the records don't match, then it's as if they were never here."

Lin Ye didn't say anything more.

Uncle Zhao's words, "It's like he's never been here," were even colder than the wind in the West District last night.

He walked out of the security booth with his bag on his back.

Before leaving, I glanced back at the notebook one last time.

He circled the few lines of text on the unmarked grave in the West District very heavily.

He really didn't intend to pick it up this time.

However, some troubles don't just disappear if he doesn't ask for help.