The soothing cadence of the rain blended with the sound of their footsteps as they stood before the rows of niches in the columbarium.
Before them was Qin Zhen's niche. Others were adorned with framed photographs, flowers and other sentimental objects that belonged to the deceased, bringing a touch of warmth to the bleak atmosphere. But aside from the white urn and a piece of formal portrait where Qin Zhen was smiling awkwardly, there was nothing else within.
It looked so sad and lonely, as if even after death, he was still forsaken by the world.
Casting a sidelong glance at Zhong Yun, Mu Yuze saw that the man was staring at the portrait dazedly, seemingly as if he had lost his soul. Mu Yuze took the initiative to step forward and placed the small bouquet he had bought in the designated vase. Then he bowed deeply, offering his sincere apologies for the man who had died unjustly.
