The old man and the young man were still smoking on the grave next door.
"Ah, it's the young man who almost fainted from crying during the Qingming Festival last year. And that little girl who can see ghosts." An old man and a young man were sitting on the grave, smoking a pipe happily.
"Little girl, are you here to beat your father again? You don't know this, but when you come here, your father will scream for seven days and seven nights, so loud that our neighbors can't sleep." The old man shook his head, but he didn't blame her.
It was Lulu who had asked someone to burn the smoke for him.
This was his life's favorite.
"Lulu, What are you looking at? I don't know the two old people next door. I'll burn some for them later. It's also a good thing." Jiang Huaian said in a low voice, looking a little down.
Lulu grabbed a handful of paper and burned it to the father and son, who were howling in joy.
