The sky was heavy with gray clouds the morning of the funeral.
In the compound's assembly yard, two plain wooden coffins lay side by side. Each was draped with a faded red flag, the five-pointed star at the center stark against the dull wood. Incense smoke curled upward in thin lines, carrying the bitter scent of grief into the air.
Sixteen-year-old Li Xueqing stood at the front. Her black cotton dress hung loose, her pale fingers gripping the incense stick so tightly her knuckles whitened.
Around her, the neighbors filled the yard. They had known her since she was born, and now many wept as though losing their own kin.
Auntie Zhang, the canteen cook, pressed a small plate of steamed buns into the offering table. "Doctor Chen always cared for our children… how can we eat today without offering her something back?"
Uncle Liu, stooped but solid, guided Xueqing forward. "Child, don't be afraid. Your parents are heroes. Walk straight for them."
The political commissar of her father's unit stepped to the front. His voice was firm, carrying across the yard:
"Comrade Li Zhenhua and Comrade Chen Yuying gave their lives in service to the people. Their sacrifice is eternal. The People's Liberation Army honors their dedication. Their names will live on."
His words were brief, official, but his eyes lingered on Xueqing with genuine sorrow.
At his signal, a line of soldiers stepped forward. Each carried a wreath of white paper flowers, which they placed carefully before the coffins. Then, in perfect unison, they raised their right hands in salute. The sharp motion cut through the yard, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.
Xueqing's legs trembled as she moved closer. She bowed three times, her forehead nearly touching the cold ground. Her voice came out hoarse but steady.
"Father, Mother… I will be fine. I promise."
The commissar cleared his throat, then stepped toward her. From a leather folder, he withdrew a red-bordered certificate. "After the burial, the unit will issue the Martyrs' Certificate to honor their memory. It will remain in your care." His hand rested gently on her shoulder. "Remember, you are the daughter of heroes."
The neighbors wept harder at his words. Children clung to their mothers' skirts, watching silently. Some women whispered:
"Sixteen, left all alone…"
"The unit won't keep her in the compound."
"At least she has that house in the city. Heaven hasn't taken everything."
The remarks drew frowns, but the envy beneath them lingered like a shadow in the smoke.
When the incense burned down to ash, soldiers stepped forward to lift the coffins. Their boots struck the ground in rhythm as they carried her parents toward the waiting truck that would take them to the martyrs' cemetery.
The commissar raised his hand. "Final salute."
Neighbors, soldiers, even the children stood straighter. Hands rose, eyes reddened, as the coffins passed through the compound gates.
Xueqing stood frozen, her braid brushing against her back, her face pale and still. Only when the truck turned the corner and vanished did she release the breath trapped in her chest.
The yard emptied slowly, neighbors murmuring farewells. Some lingered to pat her shoulder, to tell her to come to them if she needed help. Others left more quickly, already whispering about what her future would hold.
When the last incense ember died out, only silence remained.
That evening, Xueqing returned to the house. Her parents' belongings were still in their places: her father's drafting compass glinting faintly on the shelf, her mother's medical texts smelling faintly of herbs. But the air felt hollow, emptied of warmth.
She sat at the desk, clutching the compass in her palm. The cool metal bit into her skin, steadying her even as her chest ached.
The compound had always been her family. But now, without her parents, she knew she would not be allowed to stay.
Tomorrow, she would begin packing. Tomorrow, she would leave the place she had called home for sixteen years.
And tomorrow, she would step into a city that did not know her at all.