The Family Graveyard

The office air conditioning blew cold on my arms. I stared at the unfinished project plan on my computer, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, frozen for a long time. My phone suddenly rang, and the screen showed 'Fifth Uncle.' I frowned—this number barely ever contacts me except for New Year's red envelopes. I slid to answer, and Fifth Uncle's voice came through, sounding deliberately friendly: "Nancy, are you busy?" I squeezed my cold coffee cup. "Working overtime. What's up, Fifth Uncle?" He paused, then his tone suddenly hardened. "You know the land where your family graveyard is?" My heart skipped a beat, sensing something was off. "Yeah, I know. What about it?" "Your Third Uncle passed away yesterday," his voice didn't have a shred of sorrow, "he wants to borrow a spot in your family graveyard to be buried there." I thought I misheard and froze for two seconds before my anger exploded, "Fifth Uncle, that's not possible. That's my Grandpa and Grandma's grave; you can't just add someone there like that." There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then Fifth Uncle's cold voice came through, "What do you know, girl? You don’t have a say about it." "Don't worry, it won't be a loss," he added like he was doing me a favor, "We'll burn twice as much paper money for your ancestors — it's a sure win for you!" My hand holding the phone started shaking—not from fear, but anger. "Fifth Uncle, that's not some market stall. There's no room for discussion." A sneer came through on the other end: "What do you mean 'your family, my family'? We're from the same village, why make such a big deal about it?" "Your Third Uncle's last name is Scott too; your Grandpa even calls him big brother! Let him move in, and it would bring honor to your ancestors!" I remembered when I was little, Grandpa said Third Uncle's family fell out with us over the homestead land, and they hadn't spoken for over ten years. Now that someone's dead, they suddenly want to claim the family graveyard. "I told you, it's not happening," I grit my teeth and refused. "Enough nonsense, I'm hanging up—I've got work to do." "Hey! How can you be so clueless?" Fifth Uncle's voice suddenly shot up. "Nancy Scott, listen to me, this isn't up to you!" "You're going to get married off sooner or later—you're an outsider! The family graveyard is none of your business!" "I'm telling you, not asking for your opinion!" With a "click," the call was hung up, the busy signal stabbing at my eardrums. I threw my phone down on the table, staring at Fifth Uncle's number on the screen, tears almost falling—I'm not without anger, I just don't want to tear my family apart, but they're forcing me to. I thought it was over—after all, stealing someone else's family graveyard is just ridiculous. But I forgot, the people from Fifth Uncle's and Third Uncle's families have never been "normal." That night, I worked overtime until midnight and was sleeping soundly when dawn was just breaking outside, then suddenly, there was urgent knocking on the door. "Bang bang bang!" The knocking was so hard it felt like they were trying to bust the door down, and Fifth Uncle was shouting, "Nancy! Open up! It's me!" I was startled and grabbed my phone to check the time—only 6:30 AM, no delivery or takeout would come this early. I got dressed and went to the door, looked through the peephole: Fifth Uncle was standing there with a thin, dark man behind him—that was Third Uncle's son, Wade Scott. Wade Scott was holding a crappy plastic bag with a few bruised apples inside—obviously just grabbed them from home. I took a deep breath and opened the door. "Got something to do this early?" I leaned against the doorframe, making it clear I wasn't letting them in. Fifth Uncle forced a fake smile. "You’re awake, huh? Didn't explain things clearly over the phone yesterday. Came today to have a proper talk with you about moving the grave." Wade Scott pushed the plastic bag forward. "Nancy, these apples are from our own trees, not worth much, but you can have them." "Can we come in and sit? It's awkward standing here talking at the door." I looked at that bag of apples and sneered to myself: Now you're all polite, huh? Then why were you so rude on the phone yesterday? I said flatly, "I already made it clear yesterday, this isn't up for discussion." Fifth Uncle's smile froze instantly, his mouth still twitching—it looked ridiculous. Wade Scott stopped too, his face immediately darkened: "Nancy Scott, that's not right!" "We're from the same village,. My dad's last wish was just this one thing. Can't you show some kindness?" Then he suddenly changed tack and started making stuff up: "Besides, the land where your family graveyard is used to belong to us! Your grandpa pulled some tricks to grab it back then. Now we're just borrowing a spot, not the whole plot. You're still not happy?" I almost laughed in anger—that land was bought with Grandpa's savings over ten years. The land deed is still with my dad, his name written in black and white. I stared him straight in the eyes and said, "The land was legally bought by my Grandpa, we've got the deed. If you keep messing around, I won't hold back."