291: Sad atmosphere

The next morning, Lu Chuan and his two companions set up their stall again.

The passersby had changed, but their gazes towards the stall were still similar.

Confusion, numbness... Lu Chuan felt the sorrow lingering in the air, pursing his lips as he quietly turned his phone volume to the lowest setting.

He looked up towards the funeral home, his excellent eyesight faintly discerning the black smoke and dust swirling in the sky.

And against a backdrop of bleakness, people dressed in somber-colored clothes walked towards the funeral home, their faces etched with grief.

Occasionally, soft sobs could be heard, followed by someone nearby offering comfort with a pat on the shoulder.

This scene involuntarily stirred memories deeply hidden in Lu Chuan's mind.

A few years ago, he had also experienced this very scene.

At that time, with the help of the elders in the village, he had stumbled through his grandmother's funeral.

Despite his family's poverty, he had done everything in his power to ensure his grandmother departed with dignity.

Everyone at the time praised him as a filial grandson, but only he knew he hadn't done enough.

The thought of his grandmother, who had raised him, now separated from him by heaven and earth, brought forth an uncontainable pain in his heart.

“A Chuan, why are your eyes red?”

He Jingrui's voice sounded in his ear.

Lu Chuan snapped back to reality, looking at He Jingrui's expression, and quickly wiped his eyes before shaking his head.

“It's nothing.”

He Jingrui nodded, not pressing further.

Having known Lu Chuan for so long, he knew that Lu Chuan had a strong mind of his own; if he said it was nothing, then it must be nothing.

However, was he feeling sentimental because of the scene?

He Jingrui looked at the funeral home in the distance, a faint suspicion forming in his mind.

Just then, two large buses suddenly drove from afar, heading towards the funeral home.

This scene attracted the attention of many people.

After all, the funeral home was always a place people avoided.

Many who had visited the funeral home would use methods like “stepping over a brazier” to ward off bad luck before entering their homes.

As everyone's gaze turned to the buses that had stopped in the funeral home parking lot, the bus doors opened.

Then, police officers, wearing caps and uniforms, stepped out one by one.

Without exception, their faces showed sorrow and grief, and each held a chrysanthemum.

“This is...”

Seeing this, everyone was stunned, then seemed to understand something, and their faces collectively showed expressions of pity, regret, and sorrow.

Lu Chuan looked at the police officers who had lined up in the distance and were walking into the funeral home, he paused, then sighed.

They had sacrificed themselves... In an era of peace, the warriors active on the front lines were no longer limited to the military profession, but had further expanded to include professions such as doctors, nurses, firefighters, and police officers.

Every year, there would be similar news, such as xx doctors and nurses getting infected while rescuing patients, xx firefighters trapped in fires, xx police officers fighting desperately with criminals, etc.

When similar news was reported, people would then realize that in some unknown corner of a peaceful era, another warrior had bravely sacrificed himself, and anyone with normal values would feel immense sorrow.

Thinking about these things, Lu Chuan shook his head and sighed again.

Before long, his extraordinary hearing faintly picked up the sounds of funeral music, eulogies, and the cries of relatives from inside the funeral home.

The mournful music resonated, like heavy lead pressing on everyone's hearts.

The eulogy, vaguely transmitted through amplification equipment, was intermittent and unclear, but its tone, filled with grief and respect, and the subsequent outbursts of heart-wrenching cries, pierced through the cool morning air like invisible awls.

Lu Chuan stood silently behind the food truck, his gaze seemingly penetrating layers of walls, seeing the heartbreaking scene within the farewell hall.

He remembered his own grandmother, the pain of eternal separation, and could even more deeply understand the profound grief of the families inside at this moment.

He Jingrui and Ding Xinyang also felt this extraordinary atmosphere of sadness; they stood in solemn silence, their breathing even lighter.

Time flowed slowly amidst the solemnity and sorrow.

After an unknown period, people began to emerge from the entrance of the funeral home.

First out were the police officers in uniform, their eyes filled with tears, walking silently towards the bus, their backs heavy and resolute.

Following them were some friends and relatives who had come to pay their respects, all with heavy expressions.

Finally, surrounded by a group of friends, relatives, and staff, several family members, dressed in black and almost collapsing from crying, walked out.

One was an elderly woman with white hair, supported by two people; another was a middle-aged woman with a haggard face and vacant eyes; and there was a little girl, about seven or eight years old, wearing a black dress, her face streaked with tears, tightly clutching her mother's skirt.

They were enveloped in endless sorrow, as if separated from the world by an invisible film, their perception of the outside world dulled.

Friends and relatives quietly comforted them, trying to get them to get into the car and leave, but the old woman stopped, looking in the direction of the funeral home, tears silently falling again, while the wife tightly held the portrait of the deceased in her arms, her knuckles white from gripping it so hard.

The little girl looked up at her mother and grandmother, her small face filled with confusion and fear.

Just then, a morning breeze swept through, carrying the scent of the “Warm Jade Soothing Porridge” that had been simmering on low heat in Lu Chuan's food truck, more distinctly towards the grieving crowd.

The aroma was gentle and rich, carrying the sweetness of rice and a peculiar, comforting warmth, seeming so out of place in this air filled with sorrow and tears.

But it miraculously paused the mournful atmosphere for a moment.

The family members, who had been immersed in immense grief for days, had barely eaten or drunk, sustained only by sheer willpower, and their bodies had already reached their limits.

This sudden aroma of food, carrying a warm breath of life, was like a key, inadvertently prying open their senses, which had been closed off by sorrow.

The martyr's wife subconsciously sniffed, her chapped lips moving slightly.

A faint glimmer seemed to appear in the elderly woman's cloudy eyes, and her throat involuntarily swallowed.

Even the little girl, who had been bewildered, softly, with a choked voice, murmured: “Mama... I'm hungry...”

This utterance of “hungry” was like a needle, instantly piercing the forced calm.

The martyr's wife suddenly lowered her head, looking at her daughter's pale little face, a huge wave of guilt and heartache surged, and tears flowed even more fiercely, but no longer purely for her husband, but also for this child she had neglected for several days.

Only then did she realize that her child was still so young, yet had been enduring hunger with them, the adults, for a long time.

A middle-aged man nearby, who looked like a unit leader, noticed this scene and also smelled the unique aroma of the porridge.

Following the source of the scent, he saw the quiet food truck and the “Morning Dew Comfort Meal” sign not far away, and his heart stirred.

He quickly walked to Lu Chuan's stall, his voice hoarse and urgent:

“Boss, I'll take three servings of your porridge, how much is it? Is this the QR code to scan?”