In the wee hours, the sky suddenly began to drizzle. Under the dim streetlights, a million fine threads swayed in midair—a hazy, sheer veil that draped over the bustling city of Bird City.
Today, Wang Yu and his friends were going to pay tribute to Uncle Quan, and it seemed that even the heavens could sense the sorrow deep in their hearts.
By seven o'clock, Qin Tian and the others had arrived one after another at the Huajing Lake Villa District. Within a mere twenty minutes, everyone had gathered.
Paying homage to the deceased was a solemn affair, so today, regardless of gender, all were clad in black.
At the moment, although the living room was full of people, it was eerily quiet; not a single person spoke, creating an atmosphere that was both solemn and heavy.
