Nine days later, a row of black vehicles were parked in a neat line at a private memorial garden.
It was a beautiful sunny day. It should have been a perfect day if not for the wind chill. The air was cold and crisp. When the wind blew, people couldn't help but shiver and shrink into their coats.
Jin Liwei held an exquisite urn in his arms. The urn was simple yet elegant, with no over-the-top embellishments. His expression was icy and dark.
Beside him, Iris Long kept on rubbing his back but remained silent all the way. Her eyes were concealed by large, dark sunglasses.
A little before them, Jin Chonglin held a framed photo of the Jin family's old matriarch. His shoulders shook and his mother, Huang Yuyan, stood beside him, also sobbing her heart out.
