Chapter 2: The Two Whales

Click. The ashtray split into two.

Countless tiny shards of glass fell softly, piling up at Jing Chengyun’s feet. The once solid ashtray, sturdy and hard, now crumbled like clay in her hand.

Mr. Chen’s face turned ashen as he stared at the broken glass beneath his feet, as if gazing upon his own shattered skull. He could not believe what fate awaited him if Jing Chengyun truly sought revenge.

His legs trembled uncontrollably, eyes wide with disbelief. “Y-You… what exactly are you? You’re not human—you’re a demon!”

Jing Chengyun paid him no mind. Calmly, she rubbed the blood from the cuts on her hands onto a piece of paper.

Finally, she lifted her deep, obsidian eyes slowly. Before she could speak, Mr. Chen was so terrified he screamed and fainted on the spot.

Madam Chen, foster mother to Chen Ji, caught her brother and helped him to the sofa to rest. Though still shaken, she managed to steal a glance at Jing Chengyun’s appearance.

Jing Chengyun was tall and statuesque, with broad shoulders. At each temple, a streak of white hair shone.

Textbooks never taught the signs of a demon’s transformation, partly because it was unnecessary, and partly because such traits could be altered through learned behavior.

Madam Chen racked her brain for knowledge to make sense of it all. Then she remembered: orcas, when they evolved into demons and then took human form, retained their distinctive white eye patches as white hair at the temples. It was a hallmark of their kind.

Tentatively, she uttered, “Orca demon? Killer whale?”

Indeed, a demon! Chen Ji’s family was aghast—he had fallen in love across species!

Humans and demons had coexisted peacefully for centuries, each with their proper roles and harmony. Although reproductive barriers prevented hybrid offspring, tales of cross-species love were not uncommon.

Jing Chengyun remained silent, tacitly acknowledging this.

Her perfectly timed silence added an aura of untouchable danger. As she strode toward Mr. Chen and cast a towering gaze, he deeply regretted his awakening.

Even the hardest temper quailed. Cold sweat trickled as he stammered, “I-I’m sorry!”

Satisfied with the apology, Jing Chengyun smiled faintly, returning to her usual warmth. She turned to Madam Chen, saying, “The family must complete the paperwork before we can proceed with handling the remains.”

Worried that her brother might cause trouble, Madam Chen nodded and helped Mr. Chen exit the parlor.

*

The Third Avenue Funeral Home employed only two mortuary cosmeticians—a teacher of Jing Chengyun’s and Jing Chengyun herself. Today, she was the sole attendant.

The management was thoughtful, offering Jing Chengyun the choice to decline preparing her boyfriend’s appearance if uncomfortable. She refused outright, confident in her abilities.

Outside the preparation room, a cold draft blew as Madam Chen soon arrived with the paperwork. Jing Chengyun asked, “Does the family have any specific requests for the deceased’s appearance?”

“Nothing special. I trust your professionalism. But I’m curious,” Madam Chen said, “Since you’re a demon and can wield magic, can you restore Chen Ji’s appearance exactly as he was in life?”

After death, bodies undergo many undesirable changes, often inflicting secondary grief upon families. Loved ones wished for the deceased to depart with dignity, free from distorted features, bluish skin, or foul odors.

When Jing Chengyun first entered the profession, her teacher taught her a carefully crafted response for such doubts: “The law strictly limits the use of magic, but I will do my utmost.”

Madam Chen reflected briefly, then added, “Chen Ji’s uncle was very rude earlier. Please don’t mind him.”

Though the deceased was her foster son, Madam Chen desired a dignified farewell and offered her apology both as courtesy and for years of care.

“It’s alright. Didn’t I scare him unconscious too?” Jing Chengyun was no stranger to the oddities of the funeral industry and took it in stride. Yet her words carried a sharp edge that sent a chill down Madam Chen’s spine, though she said no more, merely watching Jing Chengyun enter the preparation room.

On the table lay Chen Ji’s body, prepared.

Jing Chengyun had handled many bodies—men, women, old, young, demons, ghosts, spirits—but never imagined the day her beloved would lie on her operating table.

Fate was cruel to Chen Ji, yet Death was kind.

Chen Ji’s expression was peaceful. After the accident, his features remained nearly perfect. His most beautiful trait was his eyes—dark as amber, crescent-shaped when he smiled—Jing Chengyun’s favorite sight.

Fingertips tracing his eye socket, she bent low, breath stirring his hair. “You came back to Baiyun City without telling me, so I could pick you up at the airport. Maybe then you wouldn’t have had that accident.”

No one answered.

*

Three days later.

With the times, sea burial was no longer an uncommon funeral practice.

Baiyun City, being an island city, favored sea burials. The Third Avenue Funeral Home offered comprehensive packages; their premium tier even included yacht rental.

Yacht rental meant clients paid handsomely to hire a yacht owned by the funeral home, taking the ashes out to sea and scattering them.

The yacht was sizable, easily accommodating around thirty guests, with full services including a seafood buffet for attendees to enjoy while bidding farewell.

Naturally, higher quality services came with higher costs. The Chen family was affluent, and Madam Chen was generous, paying without hesitation; only Chen Ji’s uncle grumbled softly.

Under clear blue skies, Chen Ji’s funeral proceeded smoothly.

Dressed in black, Madam Chen’s eyes were red-rimmed as she spoke: “Chen Ji was a child I adopted from the orphanage. I always treated him as my own…”

She paused, uncertain. Whether those words truly applied only she and Chen Ji’s ashes could know.

She continued, “Ah Ji was sensible and filial, once my pride. He loved the sea and its creatures since childhood. May his soul rest peacefully in the ocean.”

Attendees wore solemn expressions; some whispered softly in tears.

They were family, classmates, colleagues, or acquaintances who had known Chen Ji’s kind nature and thus felt moved in his passing.

Yet some were merely there out of politeness, harboring little genuine sorrow, whispering among themselves: “I heard Xiao Chen left a will, giving all his savings and house to his girlfriend! Millions in total!”

“Really? That generous?”

“Who is this girlfriend anyway? Why not leave it to family?”

Far away from the emperor’s reach, and farther still from whales.

Chen Ji’s uncle, emboldened by the seeming safety of distance, sneered and pointed at a woman quietly sipping water nearby. “That’s Chen Ji’s girlfriend. She works at the funeral home, in charge of making up the dead.”

“Ew…” murmurs of disapproval followed. To some, funeral staff were tainted with bad luck, to be avoided.

But with Chen’s uncle’s provocation, Jing Chengyun wasn’t just unlucky—she was rumored to have won Chen Ji’s deep love and his substantial inheritance.

Sea breeze brushed Jing Chengyun’s face as she caught a sidelong glance.

Her hearing was sharp; often swimming in her true form in the sea, she was accustomed to being the center of attention.

At first, she intended to ignore the guests’ chatter. Curiosity was natural, and as long as there was no malice, it was no big deal.

But now, she could no longer hold back.

Step by step, she approached. Chen Ji’s uncle’s hairs stood on end. He retreated inch by inch, back against the yacht’s railing.

“Miss Jing, Ah Ji is gone. Even on his deathbed, he thought of leaving you his estate. Don’t you feel a shred of remorse?!”

To humans, the orca in beast form was adorable—black and white patterns, rounded body—endearing.

But Jing Chengyun’s human form was nothing like cute. She had a round face and gentle eyes, true, but her fists were far from soft.

She advanced with her harmless, non-threatening expression, eyes bright as jewels, softly asking, “What did you say?”

With a dart aimed squarely at his forehead, Chen Ji’s uncle braced himself and snapped back, “Our Ah Ji died, and you didn’t shed a single tear, happily accepting his inheritance! You only want his money!”

Was this a melodramatic soap opera about rich love and bitter hatred?

Jing Chengyun almost laughed aloud, lips tight. She never imagined such foolishness existed: “Do I have to put on a show of grief to prove I truly mourned Chen Ji?”

Having never studied emotional control, her attempt to suppress a smile only made her look as if she might cry.

Whispers rippled across the yacht.

“Is she about to cry?”

“Oh, how could anyone treat a young woman like that?”

Under all eyes, Jing Chengyun played along, slowly raising her hands to cover her face, softly sobbing, “Wuwu… I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how much Ah Ji loved me…”

As the deck buzzed with chatter and the accusations against Chen’s uncle grew louder, she dropped her hands, face serene once more.

Furious at missing out on his nephew’s inheritance and feeling mocked, Chen Ji’s uncle stomped, “I want to file a complaint! I want to file a complaint!”

*

In this society governed by law, Jing Chengyun had once been punished for excessive violence. Orcas were not fools; they learned from mistakes. When possible, they avoided raw violence, especially if it risked legal consequences.

Madam Chen quickly silenced her brother, scolding, “You want to cause trouble at Ah Ji’s funeral? Behave yourself!”

Chen Ji’s uncle fell silent in reluctant submission.

With the ashes scattered at sea, the funeral neared its end.

The yacht returned to shore; guests dispersed to mingle. Though doubts lingered, no one dared speak of Jing Chengyun again.

She accepted a cup of filtered seawater and strolled leisurely.

Funerals revealed all manner of human character. Moments ago, the guests had been sorrowful; now, they eagerly enjoyed the buffet, and Jing Chengyun was among them.

She hurt. She grieved. But no matter how lost she felt, Chen Ji was gone. She must live her life forward.

Turning a corner, Jing Chengyun saw a small crowd gathered, chuckling as if enjoying some spectacle.

“What’s the fun? Let me see too!” Jing Chengyun loved a good scene. In the sea, she delighted in scattering schools of fish and shrimp; on land, she enjoyed diving into crowds.

…Hmm?

Seeing the scene clearly, her eyes lit up. “It’s a rabbit!”

Before her was a rabbit demon in human form, trembling under the table, panicked and frantic. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! My tail is sensitive! Boohoo… Somebody save me…”

Jing Chengyun pointed at the rabbit’s rear, bewildered. “You’re all gathered just to touch a rabbit’s tail?”

Someone answered, “We’ve never touched it before. It’s a novelty. He’s so dumb—he can transform but can’t even retract his tail.”

That was indeed rather foolish.

Jing Chengyun thought to herself: orcas were not gentle creatures; they bullied the weak and thrived by strength. The animal kingdom’s law of survival favored the strong.

Yet having lived among humans for five years, she understood right from wrong.

Though she didn’t always act perfectly, she knew ganging up to bully an innocent rabbit demon who couldn’t hide his tail was wrong.

Moreover…

Her gaze fell on the rabbit’s fluffy, trembling tail, and her heartbeat quickened, chest warming.

“Just now on the front deck you saw me—I’m not someone to be trifled with. I forbid you from bullying this rabbit. Clear out, understand?” Jing Chengyun said proudly, unblushing.

The crowd consisted of lesser demons, no match for one as gifted as Jing Chengyun. After she chased them off, she confirmed no one remained nearby.

Then she bent down and gave the rabbit demon’s lower back a firm pat. “Good little rabbit, lift your head.”

The rabbit shivered, slowly turning his head out from under the table, facing outward, tail hidden inside, revealing a clean, handsome face.

He blinked in confusion, then tears rolled down his cheeks, distorting his beautiful features.

“M-Master… it’s really you!”

“?”

“I finally found you!” The rabbit cried, leaping up, banging his head on the table but not feeling pain. He clung to Jing Chengyun’s calf, tears streaming, “I knew one day we’d meet again, Master!”

Jing Chengyun felt a bit annoyed. No matter how fluffy the ears and tail, they shouldn’t be crying on her pants!

But this little rabbit was like glue—stubborn as could be. No matter how she tried to shake him off, he clung tight.

Jing Chengyun sighed and, with a firm grip, lifted the loose skin at the back of the rabbit’s neck.

Their eyes met.

The rabbit sobbed, “Don’t you remember me? I’m the lop-eared rabbit you adopted five years ago, Master! Boohoo…”

Jing Chengyun sifted through her memories from five years past.