Yu Wuhen headed in one direction in a daze. Images of the past came rushing into his mind.
There was joy, happiness, pain, sadness, anger, helplessness, failure, and also success...
Yu Wuhen's hands clenched tighter and tighter until his knuckles turned white and his green veins protruded. There was a hint of water on the rim of his long, slender eyes which revealed the pain in his heart.
God! What have I done wrong? Why must you torture me like this? Why?
Yu Wuhen walked forward and stepped into the ancestral halls which carried the ancestral memorial tablets.
The ancestral hall glistened in gold and the fireflies shone brightly. It was serene, and yet there was a trace of coldness.
Yu Wuhen slowly trudged up to the ancestral memorial plates. He took three sticks of incense from the drawer beneath the offerings table.
Then, he lifted his long gown up, then kneeled down onto a floor pillow and gave three soft bows.
