40. Remembrance and Commendation

Having resolved the looming threat of James Law, Dean spent the following week accompanying the Morning Band to various recording sessions. Together, they signed a contract with a small record company called Kristen for the production and distribution of “Tears in Paradise,” entering a phase of anticipation for its release and revenue sharing.

Dean also received a signing bonus of $1,000, the final payment for “Amazing Day” of $3,800, and, combined with the remaining $1,800 he already had, his savings soared to an unprecedented $6,600. Earning such a sum in his first month was deeply satisfying; he no longer needed to rely on his uncle’s support.

“Just another couple thousand, and I’ll buy a brand-new SUV,” he mused.

Besides the band commitments, his spare time was spent training in marksmanship, combat, and shadow summoning in the nearby woods, with diligent practice yielding tangible improvements:

Shooting lv0 (25→50/100)
Combat lv1 (65→75/200)
Shadow of the Past lv0 (6→8/100)
Physique: 11.5→11.6
Strength: 10.5→10.6
Agility: 11.5→11.6
…

Early June arrived, and with it, the collective memorial service. The sun blazed fiercely, making the morning heat oppressive even at nine o’clock. Nevada State High School, closed for so long, finally reopened its doors.

Cars lined the entrance; crowds passed through the lush courtyard and filed into the spacious auditorium. Dean and his friends sat at the very back, the highest row, surveying over five hundred seats, all occupied, with people standing in the aisles and before the stage.

Men, women, and children alike wore black or navy suits, dresses, and skirts in silence. They clutched photo frames—each displaying a vibrant young face, now trapped in the lifeless confines of the frame.

Unlike customs in the East, American memorial portraits were in color, not black and white.

The mayor of Las Vegas stood at the podium’s center, flanked by the new principal, Ms. Lance, the chief of the Las Vegas Police Department, the camera crew, and other officials. Thirty-five pristine candles burned quietly on the table behind them, encircled by wreaths of white chrysanthemums, each holding a colorful photograph.

“We have determined the cause of this tragedy: three mentally deranged individuals, consumed by hatred for society, targeted these beloved children. This is an unmitigated tragedy, occurring at the wrong time, in the wrong place. Here and now, I vehemently condemn their horrific actions!”

A stir ran through the audience; some bereaved relatives rose, faces flushed, shouting and roaring.

“But all three perpetrators have been punished—they are now in hell, never again to wreak havoc in our world!” The mayor’s resolute words quelled the commotion. “Now, let us temper our anger and commemorate those innocent lives lost—twenty-five young souls and ten outstanding adults. In a city that should be home to the kind and decent, they lost their precious lives, missing birthdays, graduations, weddings.”

“Diego Vivian…”

“Emily Brown…”

…

“Our esteemed principal… Ulysses Crow.”

Each name was met with wails from the seats.

Dean turned. Last hugged Britney, her eyes red, as he sniffled.

“Here in Las Vegas, I offer the nation’s love and prayers. I know words cannot express your pain or heal your wounds. I only hope you understand that you are not alone in your sorrow… Our world has collapsed too—together, the whole country grieves with you, holding our children tight.”

Below, husbands embraced wives, families leaned on each other.

“We will give everything to comfort you. We will gladly share your grief.”

The mayor paused, wiping his eyes.

“Las Vegas—you are not alone.”

The crowd responded even more loudly.

“Your tears are not in vain. Those in heaven, dwelling in God’s mansion, receive your longing.”

The mayor shifted his tone.

“Nevada High has a girl who survived the Lake Mead incident, though she lost many close friends and was overwhelmed with grief… She is one of you, sharing your ordeal. To heal and move beyond the darkness, she found solace in a song during these trying days.”

“Now, I hope her voice brings comfort to you all, letting us immerse ourselves and turn sorrow and longing into strength.”

Then, somber music began to play from backstage.

Everyone listened intently.

Caroline, strumming her guitar, stepped onto the stage.

Dean’s eyes lit up.

She had replaced her usual vibrant tank top and shorts with a simple denim dress, revealing slender, alabaster legs and arms. Her face, untouched by makeup, looked delicate and pale in the candlelight, exuding a serene, cold beauty.

The familiar melody began.

Each verse brimmed with heartfelt emotion, striking chords deep within the soul.

Classic songs possess a unique power to move and resonate.

Whenever Caroline sang, “Do you remember my name, if I meet you in heaven?” the audience responded with muffled sobs.

An invisible wave of shared emotion spread throughout the crowd.

When Caroline sang the final line,

“I must be strong and carry on, because I know I don't belong in heaven.”

“I don't belong in heaven.”

…

The entire hall fell silent for a whole minute.

No one spoke; no one noticed Caroline quietly bowing and leaving the stage, nor did anyone applaud out of place.

But Dean knew she had succeeded.

An elderly man sitting ahead glanced at his granddaughter’s photo, wiped his tears, and managed a comforted smile.

The grief on many faces seemed washed away by a rainstorm.

At first, eyes were wet, emotions uncontrollable, tears streaming freely.

Yet, as they wiped their gloomy faces, they wiped away their sadness too, feeling lighter in spirit.

---

The mayor returned to the microphone, dramatically dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief and breathing a long sigh.

Performances at memorial services are perilous; a single misstep could turn a solemn ceremony into farce.

But the girl’s performance was, as always, just right.

“After hearing this song, I wonder if you share my thought: the departed are gone. We must cherish our health, so we may reunite with loved ones in heaven.”

“Everyone must be strong.”

“This is life’s truth; it is not only sadness. Life also shows us brightness and beauty.”

The audience quietly shifted their attention toward him.

The mayor continued to steer the focus of the memorial.

“After the Lake Mead incident, medical workers, volunteers from all walks of life, resilient families of the victims, and—those Las Vegas police officers who hadn’t slept for days—all set examples and brought hope!”

He emphasized his last statement, exchanging a knowing look with the LVPD chief nearby.

“God bless Las Vegas! At that horrific scene, seven brave souls stepped forward, determined to protect classmates, teachers, family—even strangers.”

Dean’s heart skipped—a sense of foreboding rising.

“Las Vegas is a city of heroes! Born here, they embody Vegas’s goodness, courage, and conviction. They overcame their fear of death and, united, fought three inhuman monsters, blocking cold gun barrels with their own flesh and saving countless lives.”

The mayor’s words were impassioned.

These heroes would reverse the disaster’s impact and salvage his career!

“It was a miracle!”

“Most of them paid with their lives.”

“But we must not let these noble sacrifices fade with time.”

“Now, let us recite their names together, so they may be remembered forever.”

“Bobby Smith.”

“Bobby Smith!”

At first, voices echoed sporadically, but soon, the sadness vanished, replaced by a tidal wave of cheers.

A powerful surge of sound reverberated above the seats.

Last, Liam, and others beside Dean shouted until their faces turned red.

Dean waved along, joining in.

Those selected “heroes” were simply good, honest students, chosen to avoid exposing his own extraordinary abilities.

“Did I just gift them a glory they didn’t earn?”

The dead could not take the stage.

But Bobby’s father, clad in a black suit and tie, rushed up with a photo, embraced the mayor, accepted the certificate, pinned the shining medal to his chest, raised his son’s picture and, wiping his tears, shouted passionately.

“I knew it—my Bobby was always a hero! I’m proud of you, Bobby, you did great!”

“Jeff Brown!”

“Kenny Taylor!”

The applause grew even louder!

After their tears were spent, parents waved their hands wildly, shouting, cheering, applauding—some even leaping onto the stage to embrace the heroes’ families.

The memorial inadvertently transformed into an award ceremony.

“Cole Davis.”

“Cheston Thomas.”

“Our principal, Ulysses Crow.”

“Dean, are you ready?”

Caroline, radiant, appeared behind him, wrapping her arms around Dean’s chest.

Dean turned, a bit agitated, glancing at the door, his composure gone.

He was profoundly uncomfortable with the “center of attention,” unwilling to become a celebrity—life under a magnifying glass would be unbearable.

“Come on, man, don’t be modest. You saved everyone; you deserve this,” Last encouraged him.

“Go up there—it’s a rare opportunity. After today, many prestigious universities will open their doors to you!”

Britney looked on enviously.

Liam, Carter, Noah blocked the exit, their faces grateful.

“Don’t even think about running!”

Damn!

“The last hero—not only did he save lives, he defeated death itself, becoming a living legend! He sits among you, an eleventh grader from Nevada State High—Dean Lu!”

“Dean Lu, where are you? Come on up!”

Dean was pushed out of his seat.

A white lady in the front turned, pointing at him with a sturdy finger.

“Chinese?”

“You’ve made us proud!”

The crowd erupted, especially the small number of Asian attendees.

“Well done, Dean!”

“Don’t be shy, young man—go on up!”

Dean’s expression stiffened.

Warm hands reached out from the seats, patting and pushing him forward. He was like a raft in a fjord, swept towards the stage by the current.

Holden Ford was among them, smiling with approval, applauding as though greeting an old friend—the usually composed boy finally showing his high schooler’s nerves.

…

“Dean Lu, on behalf of the entire Nevada High faculty and students, and the people of Las Vegas, I thank you sincerely!” The mayor spread his arms, giving Dean a warm hug.

---

The more he looked, the more grateful he felt.

With the Lake Mead tragedy and the suicide of the tycoon James Law, pressures mounted from all sides, and his political standing hit rock bottom.

This unexpected young man was just the diversion he needed, drawing the public’s gaze away.

A pity he was Asian; this path was closed to him.

Otherwise, he’d leave a card and follow up later.

“For your extraordinary courage in the face of violent crime, and your outstanding actions in saving dozens of lives, I, on behalf of the Vegas city government, award you the Citizen Courage Prize and a cash reward.”

The mayor and LVPD chief stepped forward, handing Dean an honorary certificate and pinning a medal to his chest.

Dean accepted the certificate, peering past them to spot Ms. Lance, the new principal. Beside her, Ms. Kristen smiled and nodded at him.

“Now, say a few words?” The mayor patted his shoulder. “What made you stand up in that moment?”

Dean stepped to the microphone, scanning the crowd.

Familiar classmates, unfamiliar parents—all eyes burned with curiosity, kindness, encouragement, gratitude.

Yet, not a few looked skeptical, incredulous—

An Asian standing up to violent criminals, saving whites, blacks, Latinos…

It sounded far-fetched.

Those stares felt like flames.

Dean’s lips moved, but his throat seemed blocked—he couldn’t speak.

Until the crowd encouraged him with applause.

Dean took a deep breath, regaining composure.

“I was very afraid. I saw Death beckoning to me, but before dying, a thought flashed through my mind—be a hero for a minute or a coward for a lifetime?”

His calm gaze swept the hall; silence reigned.

“In this life, everyone should be brave at least once, for themselves. I wanted to survive.”

“I tried to fight back, and so I lived.”

“But I’m sorry I couldn’t save more. I’ll donate the prize money to the victims’ families.”

“I hope you take this courage and blessing, and live well!”

Dean thought to himself, those people likely died because of him.

But after today, he had done everything he could.

Bang!

The system vibrated.

Taking advantage of this moment on stage, his attributes leapt—

Spirit: 13.1→13.2.

Dean descended amid cheers.

“Everyone should be brave for themselves—what a profound insight. Let’s applaud Dean’s courage!”

Thunderous applause filled the hall.

“But let me correct you, kid—you don’t need to blame yourself. You did great; we should apologize instead!”

…

“Hey, you did well—didn’t stutter at all,” Noah praised, taking the certificate from him. A crowd clustered around to examine it.

Last draped an arm over Dean’s shoulder, smiling at his dazed face.

“Now you seem normal—not invincible. If you’d given a brilliant speech, I’d swear you were an alien in human skin!”

“First time on stage is already impressive. When I first performed with the band, facing a few dozen listeners, I nearly cried with nerves.”

“You’re amazing!”

Caroline, sitting on his other side, kissed his cheek excitedly, her eyes sparkling. “Especially that line, ‘a hero for a minute or a coward for a lifetime’—it’s like a lyric. I love it!”

Dean smiled, glancing at his companions, his gaze steady once more.

“I’m going out for some air.”

On stage, the mayor launched into a new round of impassioned speech, drawing attention away.

“Ah?” Caroline hesitated, holding his arm, looking down at her toes. “Ms. Jones, Principal Lance, and the mayor want me to stay after the performance.”

“It’s a rare chance. Go keep them company; I’ll see you at the warehouse tonight.” Dean patted her cheek understandingly. “Last, lend me your car keys.”

“Hey, don’t run away. The parents want to thank you personally.”

But Dean shook his head, took the keys, and walked out.

…

Outside.

Under the scorching sunlight, his tense features relaxed, and he felt much lighter.

That hall was never his domain.

He strode toward the school gate.

“Don’t rush off, man.”

A familiar voice called from behind.

Dean turned, pupils contracting.

The handsome, dark-haired detective.

Holden Ford.