Chapter 130: Stop Talking, Run!
Yunice muttered to herself, "People these days really don't care about the dead anymore." She didn't bother asking why Wyatt was there; he wasn't going to fight her for her dad's ashes.
So she didn't avoid him while digging. The surface slate had already been pried up, and now Yunice was shoveling through the soil beneath. Wyatt sat nearby, just watching, not helping at all. “Digging up your dad’s grave? What a dutiful daughter,” he remarked.
Yunice didn’t respond to the jab, focused entirely on digging. After a moment, Wyatt added lazily, “He’s already dead. It’s just a pile of ashes. Is it really worth all this?” Ashes were just inorganic dust—good for fertilizer maybe, but not much else.
“If someone can be controlled by a pile of dust, they were never going to amount to much anyway,” he scoffed. Yunice kept working, unfazed by his ridicule. People valued different things; it all came down to perspective.
Wyatt had clawed his way to the top, didn't even… Yunice thought. How could he understand what it meant to hold onto ashes?
“I’m not being controlled by a pile of dust,” Yunice said. “I just want something to remember him by.”
“Real death doesn’t come when the heart stops or the breath ends,” she added. “It’s when no one remembers you anymore. I won’t forget my dad. The ashes are him. His belongings are him. That bracelet of agarwood beads on your wrist—that’s him too. Every object carries a memory of him and me. It matters.”
She paused, then added, “But all that stuff is external. Even if I lost it, he wouldn’t blame me.”
Wyatt glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist and sneered. “Lost it? Then what happens to your precious memories?”
“How could they be gone?” Yunice looked up, calm and relaxed. “All I have to do is look in the mirror. The greatest gift my dad gave me is myself. As long as I take care of myself, those memories are still alive.”
Wyatt looked like her words caught him off guard. After a beat, he let out a dry, mocking chuckle. Yunice was used to his smug, self-centered attitude. The urn wasn’t buried deep. When her shovel hit wood, she crouched down and started scooping dirt with her hands. Wyatt still didn’t lift a finger.
The cemetery was dead quiet, except for the occasional buzz of insects from the forest. Yunice kept digging, then took a moment to glance over at him. Wyatt was sitting on the grave next to her father’s, leaning back against the headstone. One long leg bent, foot resting on the stone path. Moonlight fell softly over him, casting a cool, lonely glow. His sharply defined face was expressionless; his eyes drifted somewhere far away—or maybe he’d just zoned out completely. He’s probably thinking about his mom, Yunice guessed.
The more open and affectionate she acted, the more likely he was to feel some kind of empathy—some subconscious emotional bond. It was all about planting the seed, she thought smugly, raising her brows. Emotional anchoring. Wyatt might be good with his fists, but I doubt he has the brain for this kind of play.
With a sharp creak, Yunice pried open a corner of Will’s coffin with her crowbar. The sound made Wyatt turn. He watched as she slipped a hand through the narrow gap and pulled out the urn.
Right then, several flashlight beams cut through the night sky in jerky, crisscrossing paths. Voices echoed faintly in the distance. Someone was coming.
As the lights climbed up the hillside, Yunice turned to Wyatt, surprised. “You didn’t bring anyone with you?” She’d assumed he would at least post someone nearby to keep watch.
Wyatt stood, picking up his cane. Yunice quickly stuffed the urn into her pack, slung it over her shoulder, and ran toward the rear slope of the cemetery. His cold voice drifted after her. “You’re just gonna leave me?”
Yunice stopped in her tracks, only now remembering Wyatt couldn’t run fast. She frowned, then sighed, turning back to grab his arm and pull him along with her.
“Stop! Don’t move!” a voice shouted in the dark. She couldn’t make out the face, but the yelling grew closer. Yunice had no interest in getting caught—definitely not in making headlines. So she dragged Wyatt along in a frantic sprint. But Wyatt’s leg slowed them down. He couldn’t keep up, and Yunice ended up pulling him so hard he tripped. When he fell, she went down with him. The two of them tumbled straight into a ditch.
Yunice scrambled to get up, but Wyatt’s large hand clamped down on her head, keeping her down. At that moment, footsteps crunched toward Will’s grave.