Wen Yan could already feel a subtle vibration from the ground. He silently took two steps back. Of the other two people from the Scorching Sun Department, one had already pulled out his phone, ready to call reinforcements, while the other lifted his jacket, hand resting at his waist.
Old Zhang glanced back at the Luxury Furnace, his face a bit embarrassed. He'd been giving a lesson, but now even he felt that those explanations wouldn't fool anyone anymore.
He strode quickly over to the Luxury Furnace, opened a cover, and slammed a button inside.
In an instant, the roaring of flames shot out, buzzing loudly.
In less than a minute, the thumping noises and clearly audible low howls and wails from inside the Luxury Furnace all vanished without a trace.
Old Zhang looked back at the group, grinning.
"Human constitutions vary. Some people's bones are especially hard and not easy to burn, so you have to crank up the flames. It's all perfectly normal."
"Right, right, got it." Wen Yan nodded repeatedly.
Now he understood completely what "crank up the flames" meant, what exactly the so-called Luxury Furnace was.
He'd been naïve—he used to think it was just about different classes, a special furnace for the rich.
Now he finally saw that the cost of this Luxury Furnace was, even conservatively, dozens of times higher than a regular one, plus all the associated equipment had to be upgraded too, making the price skyrocket exponentially.
Judging by the price listed outside, they were definitely running it at a loss.
In less than an hour, Old Zhang shut off the flames—at least twice as fast as a regular furnace.
After it cooled down and was pushed out again, there was only a bit of ashy-white bone ash left on the table, burned thoroughly clean.
Old Zhang handled the collection smoothly, as if by habit.
"Full flames really are better—no leftover big bones, saves worry, labor, and time. Last time I had this big tall fat guy, you guys don't even know, that..."
"Uncle Zhang, let's leave that out, there are other people here..." Wen Yan's expression looked constipated as he interrupted Zhang's lecture. Meanwhile, the two Scorching Sun Department monitors wrinkled their noses at the faint weird smell in the air; hearing Old Zhang talk about this made their faces almost green.
Old Zhang glanced at them and said nothing more. Wearing a mask, he kept collecting ashes while explaining other matters to Wen Yan.
"Normally, even when collecting bone ash into the Golden Pagoda, you don't sweep up every last trace. But when you use full flames, by regulation, you gotta get every bit, spotless."
He carefully swept the bone ash, and even after the furnace had completely cooled, climbed inside and thoroughly cleaned it again, gathering every speck of ash together.
Then he went to an iron cabinet in the back, took out a few bags of salt and a small packet of some unknown powder, mixed them into the ashes, and put the lot into the Golden Pagoda.
Seeing Wen Yan full of questions, Old Zhang explained right away.
"That's another rule. Supposedly it's to stop people from using the ashes to fertilize flowers. Don't ask me about the rest—I don't know either."
"???"
Wen Yan was completely baffled. He had no idea what stories lay behind these rules.
Once the Golden Pagoda was all sealed up and two Yellow Talismans were crisscrossed onto it, the two Scorching Sun Department members—who had been recording the whole time—finally turned off their camera and signed the document.
As soon as they stepped outside, one of them dialed a number.
"Hello, this is Xiao Liu from the sea burial office. Is this Mrs. Lin?"
"Sorry to trouble you. The thing is, I wanted to ask if you're interested in having a sea burial for your husband?"
"Yes, the environmental angle is a factor, official policy is really encouraging it now—no no, you misunderstand."
"The full process for a sea burial can cost anywhere from several thousand to more than ten thousand, but there are subsidies. If you go for a simple sea burial, it actually costs nothing."
"Subsidies run from 3,800 to 8,800, depends on the case."
"Yes, simple sea burial has no fee. Right, you still get the subsidy."
With a smile and polite words, the Scorching Sun Department staffer hung up, the smile turning genuine. He exhaled, took out the paperwork, ticked a box and signed.
"All right, task completed, everything went smoothly."
Wen Yan was left almost speechless, wanting to say something but stopping short. He glanced back at the Golden Pagoda with its pink shirt, thinking to himself, This guy's really had it rough. His wife wasn't even here when he was cremated, now even the ashes are going to be scattered at sea.
Wen Yan, curious and kind, wanted to ask, and Xiao Liu saw it without trouble. He pointed at their feet.
"We can't discuss this here. That's the rule."
Wen Yan got it instantly. He walked the two out the funeral home's doors. Under the shade of a tree, Xiao Liu finally spoke.
"Someone once used full-flame ashes to fertilize flowers, but the flowers grew out wrong. The scent, the pollen... um, toxic. Caused some trouble. Our department had to take care of it.
There was another case—a very loving couple. After the husband died, he needed the full flames. Then the wife turned his ashes into a diamond and wore it as jewelry. Something happened again.
So now, sea burial is the standard procedure—safest, greenest."
"I see. Thanks for clearing that up." Wen Yan shook his hand in thanks. He didn't ask what they'd do if the family refused sea burial; as long as nothing happened, the outcome spoke for itself.
After seeing them off, Wen Yan headed back to work. At the gates, he glanced up at the big characters above, lost in thought.
Looks like no matter where you are, once someone dies, burns to ash, and the ashes get scattered, that's the standard, safe process.
Wen Yan still wanted to know what caused such a ruckus when the body in pink shirt was cremated, but clearly everyone else only cared about safety. Everything was by the book, strictly standard and safe. Nobody was curious about what might be inside—or what it might be.
Thinking about this, Wen Yan couldn't help wondering—maybe not asking what's inside is the rule, too?
…
In the old district of Virtue City, a typical old residential compound, a man with rimless glasses parked his hundred-thousand-yuan compact car and got out with a bag of groceries.
"Xiao Mo, here to visit your dad again?"
"Yeah, got off work early today, so I came by. My dad doesn't want to move in with me, so I have to come often. Aunt Zhang, please try to talk him into it when you get the chance—he's not young and those stairs are tough for him."
Glasses opened a bag of mangosteens, handing some to elderly neighbors cooling off downstairs; the old ladies beamed with delight.
"Mangosteens are expensive these days."
"Don't worry, we always talk to your dad. He probably thinks he wouldn't get used to your place, or fears disturbing you..."
"My daughter hasn't called in half a year. You—every couple days you're back to check on your dad."
Glasses smiled warmly, chatting with the old ladies for a while.
"Aunties, you have a good chat. I'm heading up to cook for my dad. If I'm any later, he'll start cooking for himself."
"Better get going then."
Glasses took the stairs to the fourth floor. Unlocking the double doors, he found an old man holding the inner pot of the rice cooker.
"Dad, take a break. I got this. Just bought groceries."
The old man looked at the groceries and couldn't help complaining.
"Shanghai greens are so expensive now. Choy sum's a better deal these days..."
Glasses just smiled, turning up the TV, starting the rice cooker, tying on an apron, and getting to work washing and chopping vegetables.
Half an hour later, Glasses ladled out a bowl of soup first.
"Dad, have some soup first—it's good for dampness. The ribs need to stew a while longer."
Soon enough, three dishes and a soup were on the table. As they ate, father and son chatted about daily life.
"Your brother and sister are both doing well out there. Want them to look for a new job for you?"
"No need. Sis just got promoted, and bro just started a new project—way too busy now, and it wouldn't be a good fit. Driving is fine for me and closer to home anyway." Glasses smiled casually, as if he didn't mind at all.
But the old man felt a pang at these words.
Back when the family had some money, everything went to the older two. By the time the youngest started school and needed cash, he'd gambled the family's savings away.
Then, when his wife got sick, he fell apart. The youngest stayed home to look after the parents. Now, the older two are both away, and it's months without a call—only the youngest works as a rideshare driver and comes by to care for him.
The old man didn't pursue the topic, switching instead to work matters—but halfway through, something seemed off.
"How's work going for you lately?"
"All right, I guess. Just one project wasn't going well."
"Which project?"
"The funeral home one. It was stalled for a year, but now there's hope again. That's mostly what I'm busy with these days. Just, the people under me are getting out of hand, there was a misstep and now I've got to go in person."
"You sure have it tough. I'm old, can't help you much."
"Don't say that—you're my biggest support."
"What help could I be?"
"I need a legitimate excuse, something nobody would suspect, to get into the funeral home. Only then can I do what comes next. The plant I left inside before is already gone—someone must be getting close to the area I want access to."