Chapter 059: Brotherhood in the Old Burial Grounds

With a running start, he leapt, gripped the top of the wall with both hands, pulled himself up, and, once his body cleared the height, swung a leg over to straddle the wall. After adjusting his position, he jumped down. In an instant, he had vaulted from inside the wall to the outside.

These moves, which Zhang Tan had practiced throughout his three years of high school, were now performed with effortless mastery. A wall over two meters tall was no obstacle to him.

“This must be what it feels like to be a hero, scaling roofs and leaping over walls,” Zhang Tan thought, his feet landing on wild grass, a trace of pride in his heart.

Behind him, Wang Long and the others clambered over in a much slower and clumsier fashion. As soon as they landed, they called out to Zhang Tan, “Detective, you sure are quick climbing walls. You must’ve practiced a lot before.”

“No, this is my first time,” Zhang Tan replied modestly.

Ever since he’d shaved his hair into a crew cut, led the group to stand up to the arrogant second-year students, and even sparred with Luo Jinsong in class, his reputation—though negative—had soared. Although no one said it to his face, Zhang Tan had heard through Cao Yu’s reports that many students suspected he might be a small-time delinquent.

Had he been a troublemaker before?

It was inevitable—Zhang Tan’s way of doing things was different from that of the average student. He seemed carefree, as if nothing in school could unsettle him, a state of mind only small-time punks could cultivate.

Yet, students like him were not universally disliked. On the contrary, the saying goes, “girls like bad boys.” As long as he didn’t bully his classmates, such “rascals” were often popular. Perhaps only teachers truly disliked students like him. At least, Luo Jinsong no longer spared him even a glance during class.

One after another, a group of “bad” students gathered outside the wall.

Out came the cigarettes—passing them around, each lit one, imitating adult smokers as they lounged about, enjoying themselves amidst drifting clouds of smoke.

Zhang Tan didn’t smoke, no matter how many times they offered. First, he had no craving for nicotine; second, he was well past the age when smoking seemed cool. To him, cigarettes were nothing but a bundle of nicotine and tar, harm without benefit.

“Up ahead is the cemetery. Let’s go check it out,” Zhang Tan, standing upwind, suggested.

He’d hopped over the wall just to stroll through the graveyard. This was the public cemetery of Shuangdun Town. Land near cemeteries was usually cheap—perfect for building schools. Zhang Tan’s primary school, Gangji Central, had been built right on an old burial ground, and the campus was rife with ghost stories.

As a child, he’d been terrified by those tales—once darkness fell, he dared not linger at school.

The smoking students immediately responded to his call, “Let’s go see.”

Together, they walked briskly into the old cemetery.

In broad daylight, the graveyard held no hint of terror. On the contrary, numerous pines had been planted here, creating a tranquil scene. Delicate little birds flitted among the branches, chirping merrily.

Wang Long and the others wandered from tombstone to tombstone, reading the inscriptions.

But Zhang Tan seemed to travel back a dozen years, returning to a night when the moon hung full and round.

There had been four of them then—four high school seniors, all poor students, sneaking out for an all-night gaming session at an internet café. They’d detoured through this very cemetery, knelt before the old graves under moonlight, and swore an oath:

“Today, though we, Zhang Tan (Du Yalei, Lü Pin, Liu Bin), are not of the same blood, we swear brotherhood—united in heart and effort, ready to aid each other in hardship, loyal to our country and kind to the common people. We do not ask to be born on the same day, month, and year, but only wish to die together on the same day, month, and year. Heaven and earth bear witness—should we break this bond or forget our loyalty, let all the gods and men condemn us!”

After the ritual, their bond felt transformed.

“Big Brother”—addressed to Du Yalei.

“Second Brother (or Second)”—for Liu Bin.

“Third Brother”—for Zhang Tan.

“Fourth Brother”—for Lü Pin.

Once they’d finished, the eight hands clasped tightly together, a current of brotherhood surging under the chilly moonlight. Then, at Du Yalei’s urging, they hurried from the cemetery, toward the road and the town’s internet café.

They laughed and joked all the way, joy welling up from within.

Such a moment could move even ghosts and gods to tears.

This was the grand “Old Cemetery Brotherhood” that Zhang Tan and his friends had once forged here.

Now, Du Yalei was in Class Six, Liu Bin in Class One, Lü Pin in Class Three. In their second year, they’d all ended up together in Class Seven, grew close, and, in a fit of passion, had sworn brotherhood at the old cemetery.

That had been the most memorable friendship of Zhang Tan’s student years.

But times change, and people change with them. After graduation, the four scattered in different directions. They fell out of touch—so much so that when Du Yalei got married, Zhang Tan wasn’t even informed. The sworn brothers of youth had, in the end, become a joke.

Or perhaps, it had only ever been a youthful folly.

So, having lived again, Zhang Tan hadn’t sought them out. The bodies were here, but the people were not the same. Their friendship hadn’t weathered the grind of time—what would be the point in forcing a reunion? In this life, he would let fate take its course. All encounters are chance; to force them is to diminish them.

The world changes easily; people and things may remain, but that feeling, once lost, can never be regained.

“Perhaps it’s because I already have those green years of friendship in my memory—there’s nothing much to regret.”

So Zhang Tan reflected quietly to himself.

And after all, he was thirty now—hardly at an age to be sentimental, chasing after the friendships of his youth.

It would be pitiful to do so.

…

The time it took to smoke a cigarette was enough to circle the cemetery and climb back over the wall before the PE teacher appeared.

Perhaps revisiting old haunts stirred something within Zhang Tan.

In the afternoon, he was unexpectedly dragged by Li Dong to an internet café in Shuangdun Town to play games.

“Detective, I’ve found a great new game, you have to try it!” Li Dong had exclaimed excitedly.

Only after entering the café did Zhang Tan realize that Li Dong’s “great game” was “Legend of Mir,” the classic game that had taken China by storm for ten years.

Zhang Tan hadn’t planned to play, but, in a rare moment of interest, decided to give it a try. He opened the launcher, picked a random server, and went to create a character.

“I’m playing a mage. You should pick a Taoist or a warrior,” Li Dong, pretending to be an expert, advised.

“Alright, I’ll be a warrior,” Zhang Tan nodded.

Taoists had to poison, summon pets, heal—warriors were much simpler.

“What name will you choose? Mine’s ‘Rampage → Tyrant,’ cool, right? You should pick ‘Rampage → Unrestrained.’ How about it?” Li Dong suggested.

“Terrible suggestion,” Zhang Tan denied his childish idea and resolutely typed in the name he’d once used in a private server after graduating—“Country Bumpkin Blue Bay.”

The name was layered in meaning: first, it was a homophone for “to be number one” in English; then, there was a Blue Bay Hotel in Hefei that he’d always pass by, where the uniforms struck him as especially tacky; finally, it echoed the famous slogan of Hongxing Erke.

And so Zhang Tan chose the flashy name, “Country Bumpkin Blue Bay.”

“Back then, this name was inspired by Hongxing Erke. Now, Hongxing Erke can eat my dust!”