Old Yu noticed immediately.
Ling Chen almost never forgot his chores. Yet that morning the water bucket remained empty, and the cooking fire was only half-lit. He stood near the doorway staring toward the burial hill even though he had already returned.
"Boy," Old Yu said, setting down a bundle of dry wood, "did the dead start arguing with you today?"
Ling Chen blinked, as if pulled back from far away. "No… not arguing."
Old Yu paused.
The old gravekeeper was a thin man with gray hair tied loosely behind his head. Deep lines carved his face, but his eyes were sharp — sharper than most villagers realized.
He studied the boy carefully.
Ling Chen was quiet by nature, but today something was wrong. Not fear exactly. Not sadness. It was confusion… and a strange hesitation.
Old Yu poured hot water into two rough clay cups.
"Come. Sit."
Ling Chen obeyed.
They sat outside the hut facing the graves. Steam rose between them in the cold air.
After a long silence Ling Chen finally spoke.
"Old Yu… do feelings stay after people die?"
The old man's hand stopped halfway to his cup.
"Why would you ask that?"
"I touched the new grave," Ling Chen said slowly. "I heard a lullaby. I felt… love. Like she was still trying to protect someone."
Old Yu did not answer immediately.
The wind brushed past the tombstones again.
Ling Chen continued, almost whispering, "But after I stood up, I still heard something. Not from the grave. It spoke."
Old Yu's eyes changed.
"What did it say?"
Ling Chen hesitated.
"…It said I came again."
Silence.
Even the morning birds seemed distant.
Old Yu stared at the burial hill for a long time before speaking.
"Chen'er… how much do you remember before I found you?"
Ling Chen shook his head. "Nothing. You told me you discovered me near the river when I was small."
"Yes."
"You said no one was searching for me."
Old Yu nodded slowly, but his expression was heavy.
Ling Chen looked down at his hands. "If no one remembers someone… did they really live?"
The old gravekeeper exhaled.
"That," he said quietly, "is why we carve names."
He stood up and walked toward the highest grave on the hill — the ancient nameless tomb.
Ling Chen followed.
The stone was taller than a man and weathered beyond recognition. Moss covered its surface, yet strangely no cracks ran across it despite its age.
Old Yu rarely approached it.
Today he did.
He placed his palm against the stone… and for the first time in years, he bowed.
Ling Chen felt the air grow still.
"Chen'er," Old Yu said softly, not turning around, "promise me something."
"What is it?"
"If one day you learn the world is stranger than you believe… do not rush to understand it."
Ling Chen frowned. "Why?"
Old Yu finally looked back.
Because for a brief moment — just a flicker — fear crossed the old man's face.
"Some truths," he said, "are heavier than a lifetime."
Ling Chen turned toward the stone.
And for just an instant…
He felt the same presence from last night watching him.
Not from the grave.
From somewhere far beyond the sky.