Mrs. Zhao covered her mouth, her eyes were wide-opened, and almost screamed at that sight.
Xiao Cheng was beside her; he was trembling nervously as he clenched her wheelchair handle tightly.
Thump! Thump!
Thump! Thump!
There were creepy sounds of collison. It was unsure if they were heartbeats from the human heart or the wind chime hanging on the lintel.
However, Mr. Zhao, who was inside the dark house, did not seem to be conscious. He did not seem to be aware of the people who were hiding in the living room.
He walked slowly toward the memorial tablet that was placed in the living room.
As he walked, a trail of footprints appeared on the plant ashes that were scattered in the living room.
He got closer and closer. He stood before the memorial tablet and stared at it.
Through the dim lights of the two candles set up together with the memorial tablet, Mrs. Zhao could finally take a good look at his face.
