At three in the afternoon, after drinking a lot of water and subsequently urinating several times, managing some of it unaided, Chen Yuan had somewhat diluted the alcohol in his system.
Then, the two of them left the house together heading for the hill behind the house where Xia Xinyu's parents were buried.
In Chen Yuan's hand was a white plastic bag containing fireworks, Joss Paper, Joss paper, and red incense sticks.
In Xia Xinyu's hand was a flower basket filled with white chrysanthemums that were pre-purchased from Hexiang.
Hand in hand, they walked along the cement mountain road.
The snow on the road hadn't melted completely, mixing with the mud from the tire tracks, turning somewhat black.
The air, too, was pervaded with a chill.
It was truly cold in Jingnan this year, even Xia Xinyu, a local, felt it.
The two of them reached her parents' grave.
