CHAPTER 467: CHAPTER 465: A LETTER

"Mr. Chen, Vice Mayor Zhao asked me to hand this over to you." In what had become Chen Xin’s office in the command center of the settlement site, a city government employee solemnly handed both a document and a letter to Chen Xin.

Chen Xin took the items from the staff member and, after a moment of surprise, asked, "What is this?"

"This contains the results of the public opinion survey on whether to initiate post-disaster reconstruction in the original city area, along with a letter from the settlement site’s citizens to the city government. Vice Mayor Zhao read it and asked me to pass it on to you. He said you should take a look." The staff member seemed to have already read the letter, with emotions mixed between sadness and excitement, but mostly a sense of pride.

"Alright, I will take a look," Chen Xin replied seriously, sensing something significant.

After the staff member excused himself and left, Chen Xin opened the document, setting the letter aside for the time being.

The results of the public opinion survey were, unsurprisingly to Chen Xin, beyond his expectations.

Among the surviving citizens, over ninety percent supported rebuilding the city, opting for reconstruction on its original site.

Citizens supporting the city’s reconstruction was, of course, anticipated by Chen Xin; after all, Flame Country has long held the notion that leaving one’s homeland is unfortunate. Although it may be relocated to safer places, it ultimately distances one from their home, turning them into rootless algae.

Whose heart would desire leaving their familiar surroundings unless absolutely no alternative existed?

The survey results were no surprise to Chen Xin; the only surprising aspect was that ninety percent supported rebuilding on the original site.

This indeed surpassed Chen Xin’s expectations.

Especially when below this entry, there was a special note handwritten, leaving Chen Xin deeply moved.

This handwritten sentence, while seemingly simple, felt profound and weighted as Chen Xin read it.

"All citizens of our city accept and understand the loss of victims’ bodies during the reconstruction."

At first glance, a short sentence, simple and clear without misinterpretation.

Yet the more straightforward, the heavier the weight behind this message.

This wasn’t about one or two bodies, nor the simple consent of one or two individuals, but the remains of ten thousand victims, combined with two hundred thousand survivors enduring the immense sorrow after losing loved ones, making an arduous and noble choice.

The choice they made meant forsaking their relatives’ remains, not only abandoning the interment of their loved ones’ bodies but also the preservation of their posthumous integrity.

In Flame Country, matters of life and death are taken very seriously, particularly whether the deceased can rest in peace, of great importance.

Flame Country’s traditional culture emphasizes posthumous affairs; treating the deceased as living, and ensuring the completeness and burial of their body are valued.

If the dead cannot be securely buried, or if the body is incomplete at interment, it signifies the deceased’s soul cannot rest, forever lingering in suffering.

This is heavily taboo in Flame Country’s traditional culture. Despite modern society discarding some old-fashioned superstitions, the mourning and respect for deceased loved ones remain crucial, ensuring their posthumous tranquility.

The inability to properly inter bodies, leaving them exposed in the wilderness, damaging the corpses—such acts are still greatly taboo in modern society, disrespecting both the deceased and the living.

Yet now, the twenty thousand survivors of this city have chosen a decision most painful to them.

Chen Xin dares not imagine the mindset of these survivors who lost their homes and family, weighing such a choice, along with the sacrifices represented by this decision.

Though living is more important than the deceased, under current circumstances, enabling more to survive is paramount.

But the deceased aren’t merely cold corpses.

Not long ago, they were vibrant lives—our most cherished family and friends, now passed, significantly impacting the survivors emotionally, a pain hard to fathom.

Not only can their remains not be interred, but we must rebuild our homes upon these ruins, leveling the burying heaps, leaving incomplete bodies unable to find peace in burial—emotionally and ethically, this is not easily acceptable.

Indeed, even if all opposed leveling the ruins, Chen Xin would find it understandable.

Yet now, these twenty thousand people’s decision lies before him, choosing their most painful option.

Chen Xin feels weighed down, biting his lip, setting down the poll results, pinching the bridge of his nose before picking up the accompanying letter.

Although unaware who authored it, nor its contents, Chen Xin believes it should hold answers he seeks.

With reverence, Chen Xin opens it to read.

The letter is written on a plain sheet, seemingly found at the moment, with smudges but not impairing readability.

The contents are brief, only spanning a few lines.

"The earthquake took our family and friends, their bodies buried beneath ruins unreachable, an indeed painful reality."

"Though difficult and agonizing, I willingly agree with the city government’s decision to clear the ruins for reconstruction."

"Though my family’s remains lie beneath, the living are more important than the deceased."

"Rebuilding homes allows more to survive."

"Flattening ruins, harming bodies, is undeniably hard to accept."

"My family, forever departed, fills me with sorrow and pain, but I cannot allow others’ families to depart because of me."

"If I were among the victims, if my body lay deep beneath ruins too, use my body as the cornerstone for a new home—my only contribution."

"A departed me has no hope; living people, carry my share into the future, in building new homes."