In the Rain

The sky was leaden gray, pressing down heavily, as if it were about to collapse completely at any moment. The cold rain, though not heavy, was very dense, carrying the deep-seated meaning of late autumn, falling silently.

They tapped against the rows of silent tombstones in the cemetery, washing away the names that might have been forgotten, and gathered into tiny droplets on every dark green pine leaf, eventually dripping down and disappearing into the damp soil.

The air was damp and cold, filled with the scent of soil, humus, and an intangible substance called sorrow. The cemetery, usually quiet, was even more silent on such a rainy day, with only the sound of raindrops hitting umbrellas and the rustling of falling leaves.

Just then, a series of footsteps, not chaotic but impossible to ignore, broke the deathly silence as they approached.

A group of people dressed in black suits and overcoats, carrying matching black umbrellas, walked steadily along the slippery stone path of the cemetery in one direction. Their steps were steady and unhurried, carrying a sense of unspoken ritual. The umbrellas were pulled low, obscuring most of their faces, revealing only taut jawlines and pursed lips; all their expressions were shrouded in solemnity.

This silent, black-clad team, like a silent Undercurrent, moved slowly through this peaceful place, adding even more stagnation to the already heavy atmosphere.

Finally, they stopped in front of a tombstone in an inconspicuous corner of the park.

The crowd naturally and tacitly parted to both sides, making way for a passage.

A young figure slowly emerged from the back of the crowd. He was also wearing a well-tailored black suit, without a tie, and the top button of his shirt was undone, making him appear less formal, yet more aloof than the others. It was Lin Feng.

As soon as he stepped out, assassins on both sides immediately stepped forward and precisely tilted their black umbrellas to completely block out the sky above his head, ensuring that not a single drop of rain could touch him.

Lin Feng's gaze calmly fell on the smooth, black granite tombstone before him. The tombstone was simple, without a photograph, only a few lines of text engraved on it:

First examine the tomb of Feng Jianguo

Respectfully submitted by Feng Xiaowen

Buried here is Feng Jianguo, codenamed "The Patient," who, in the final moments of his life, in the most brutal way, completed the ultimate reckoning for Lin Feng and for the "fairness" in his own heart.

Today is not the day of Old Feng's burial, nor even the seventh day after his death. After her father left in that way, Old Feng's daughter, Feng Xiaowen, chose to keep a completely low profile, or even disappear. She did not hold any ceremony in the city, but quickly took her father's ashes away and buried them in a cemetery in another province, far away from the trouble.

Lin Feng and the others had always known this, but they had always tacitly refrained from disturbing them.

This is mainly for Feng Xiaowen's sake, and also for the sake of the deceased Old Feng. If anyone, especially those media with a keen sense of smell or enemies who still harbor resentment, discovers that Lin Feng, the person at the center of the storm, is related to Feng Jianguo's grave, it will inevitably cause complications and bring unnecessary trouble and harm to Feng Xiaowen has just lost everything and is trying to start a new life.

Never overestimate someone's rationality or bottom line. Think about it, even the tombstone of the late singer Wong Ka Kui was repeatedly vandalized in his previous life, let alone a controversial figure like Feng Jianguo. Lin Feng cannot allow Old Feng to be disturbed after his passing.

Now, the storm has gradually subsided, new hot topics have emerged online, and public memory is constantly being refreshed. Old Feng has also been gone for some time, and everything has settled down. Lin Feng feels that it's time. It's time to come and see this partner who used the last of his life to clear the thorns from his path...

So he brought a group of assassins who were able to leave with him to this place.

Lin Feng stood before the grave, gazing silently at the tombstone for a moment. Behind him, Lawyer Zhou, Lü Yi, Hacker K, Li Jun, Du Mingyuan... all those present stood silently in the rain, their black figures like the surrounding pine trees.

There was no master of ceremonies, and no unnecessary rituals.

Lin Feng slowly and deeply bowed three times to Feng Jianguo's tombstone.

The movements were precise and showed utmost respect.

Everyone behind him bowed three times in unison, following his movements. The black umbrella surface rippled like a silent wave.

After standing up, Lin Feng didn't speak, but simply tilted his head slightly and gestured with his eyes.

Behind him, two burly assassins immediately understood and carried a rather heavy-looking cardboard box forward, gently placing it in front of the grave. The box was opened, revealing neatly stacked white porcelain bottles of Flying Fairy Moutai.

Lin Feng bent down, took a bottle from the box, and held it in his hand. The cold porcelain bottle felt just like the weather. He unscrewed the red cap, and a rich, mellow aroma of soy sauce instantly wafted out, strangely blending with the chilly atmosphere of the rainy day.

He tilted his wrist, and the clear, slightly yellow liquid cascaded down like a small waterfall in front of Feng Jianguo's tombstone, quickly seeping into the soil, leaving only dark, damp marks and an increasingly strong aroma of wine in the air.

Lin Feng remembered it clearly. It was in the detention center, during a moment of consciousness exchange, when Old Feng, knowing his days were numbered, said to him in a half-joking, half-serious tone. "Master, when I'm gone, if you still remember me, when you come to visit me, don't bring anything else, just bring a bottle of Moutai and scatter it on my grave. Let me taste what this 'national liquor' tastes like, haha..."

Lin Feng responded that there was no need to wait until later, and that he would find a way to get him some good wine right now.

Old Feng chuckled on the other end of his mind, a laugh tinged with a world-weary wisdom and a stubborn melancholy. He refused, "Forget it, forget it. I've never tasted that stuff in my life. In the end, I'd better not. What if... what if I drink it and find it's not as good as I imagined? Wouldn't that ruin all my lifelong hopes for 'the best stuff'? Let me leave with that beautiful memory."

At the time, Lin Feng only thought it was Old Feng's eccentric temper. But now, standing in front of his grave and smelling the spilled, expensive wine, Lin Feng has a deeper understanding of Old Feng's complex state of mind at that time. He was a man whose edges had been worn down by life and who had no more expectations for anything. He was guarding his last bit of dignity and illusion.

After emptying the bottle of wine, Lin Feng gently placed the empty bottle in front of the grave.

He stood up and took a step back.

Without needing further instructions, Lawyer Zhou stepped forward first, solemnly took out a bottle of Moutai from the box, unscrewed it, and just as solemnly poured the liquor in front of the tomb.

Next was Lü Yi. His face showed none of his usual playfulness, only an almost devout seriousness. His movements were even somewhat clumsy, but incredibly focused. Then came Hacker K, Li Jun, Du Mingyuan... Every assassin present stepped forward in turn, silently taking a bottle of wine, opening it, and pouring it.

One bottle after another.

Expensive Moutai Liquor, like the most ordinary spring water, was poured generously onto the land surrounding this cold tombstone. The intense, almost overwhelming aroma of the liquor permeated the air, forcefully dispelling the dampness and mustiness of the rainy day, as if in this way, a world of pure fragrance, which Old Feng, who was buried here, had never set foot in during his life, was being built.

No one spoke throughout the entire process. There was only the sound of rain, the sound of bottles being opened, and the pattering of wine washing over the soil and stone slabs.

A silent farewell, a respect that transcends life and death, flows quietly in this rain-soaked cemetery.

All the wine had been poured out, and the empty bottles were neatly stacked beside the grave, like a line of silent guards.

The group stayed quietly with Old Feng for a while longer, letting the rain soak their shoulders and mud cover their shoes.

After a long while, Lin Feng gently exhaled, and the white breath instantly dissipated in the cold air.

He took one last look at the black tombstone, as if to etch the name and the past into the depths of his memory.

Then, he turned around, without looking back, and slowly walked away along the path he had come from.

The assassins behind him, just as they had come, silently regrouped, holding up black umbrellas, and surrounded him before quickly disappearing into the misty rain and at the end of the winding path in the cemetery.

Only the tombstone remained, standing silently in the rain, gently enveloped by the rich aroma of wine, as if it were no longer cold.