CHAPTER 281: CHAPTER 85: ENCOUNTER AT THE MARTYR’S CEMETERY

In the Martyr’s Cemetery of Bianjing City, in front of a tombstone, the snow had been carefully swept away, and a few bold sparrows hopped onto the tombstone, pecking at the painted characters on its surface.

The epitaph inscribed "Ye Lingyun’s Tomb"; Ye Lingyun was one of the founding contributors of country Z. More than twenty years after his death, he has always been buried in the Martyr’s Cemetery. After his only daughter, Ye Taina, died abroad, it has always been the government that has dispatched people to worship and clean.

Not long ago, someone representing the city government came to pay respects, and traces of several bunches of flowers and candles are still present. Pello brought new white chrysanthemums and placed them aside, blending with the snow, leaving only a few clusters of glossy green stems especially conspicuous.

"Grandfather," Pello whispered, Ye Taina’s mother had died due to the chaos of war just after the liberation, and for many years it was just father and daughter living through life together. Later, even though Ye Taina moved to France and tried to bring Ye Lingyun over for a better life, he declined, not wanting to leave his old comrades and homeland.

Upon learning of Ye Taina’s accident, Ye Lingyun was devastated and even failed to fulfill his wish to bring his daughter’s remains back to the country before he sadly passed away. The Martyr’s Cemetery was well-maintained; the old man on the black and white photo on the tombstone had spirited eyes.

Pello didn’t have much impression of Ye Lingyun, as, due to considerations regarding his status, he rarely contacted Mussen who belonged to the French nobility, the only encounter being at Ye Taina’s wedding, and Pello had not yet been born at that time.

After completing the brief homage, Pello was about to leave when a military jeep drove in behind him. The sound of the dark green vehicle, locally made and covered with special glass, was completely silent.

The clearly defined tires pressed onto the snow, making no sound. After estimating, Pello confirmed that the vehicle was fitted with bulletproof glass approximately three to four centimeters thick. Considering the special nature of those interred in the Martyr’s Cemetery, the entry and exit management was very strict—with mandatory registration, and normally only walking inside was allowed. Yet, this military jeep did not need to adhere to the regulations, advancing steadily like a steady-moving army, patrolling those resting bravest warriors of the past.

The vehicle continued until it was fifty meters away from "Ye Lingyun’s tombstone" on a side path and then stopped. An orderly in his thirties jumped out of the car. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he immediately briskly walked to the back of the vehicle and respectfully opened the car door.

An old man got out of the vehicle. The old man was not tall, but his back and legs were straight, wearing a full military uniform in the cold winter December. When getting out of the car, the orderly offered his military coat, which he declined.

In recent years, the old man frequented the cemetery increasingly, a few years ago due to work, he could only visit once or twice a year, but since stepping back from frontline duties, he nearly made monthly visits. Once, he even joked with the orderly, "I should walk around more, as all the old pals have gone in, I too have to walk more so when I go in, I know my way around well."

In previous years at this time, the cemetery was so quiet that not even a bird’s call could be heard, but today not only were there quite a few sparrows but also an additional living person. The old man noticed Pello standing not far away and took a discerning look.

"Who are you?" the old man pondered, trying to recognize something from this somewhat familiar foreign face.

Pello glanced again at the old man and the guard behind him who looked alert, his eyes landing on the old man’s military medals, among which was the "August 1st" medal.

Noticing Pello’s gaze, the old man smiled, "I should have thought of it, Lingyun’s grandson. He has a grandson in France, the way you frown as you think is exactly like Lingyun, as if carved from the same mold." The old man spoke with a heavily accented Southwest dialect.

"You are?" Before Pello could call out the old man’s name, he was cut off with a wave of his hand. Pello had not met this old man before, but in country Z, there were many tales about him. Coupled with his accent and medals, Pello had already discerned his identity. Pello couldn’t have imagined that a simple trip to visit the grave would end up meeting one of the towering figures of country Z.

Afterward, the old man had the orderly serve local brandy along with a few plates of flowers, meat, and fruit, then stood aside, muttering, discussing some recent events with "Ye Lingyun." The things he spoke of were good and bad. Good like in Jiefang Square, where fireworks were set off as Ye Lingyun had hoped during his lifetime—108 shots. Bad like one of their old comrades didn’t survive the winter and went to see Marx.