The distance from the street corner to Zhang Tong's house was almost twenty meters.
At this moment, this narrow street was packed with a lot of people, most of them hurrying forward.
Due to this congestion, the pace at which Wang Chen and Li Qian moved forward slowed considerably.
Actually, a large part of these people were here to spectate, not all were there to mourn for Zhang Quanzhu.
In the village, there weren't many forms of entertainment, so whether someone was getting married or a family was holding a funeral, it would attract a lot of onlookers.
Wang Chen was very annoyed with this phenomenon.
If it were a wedding, a joyous event, it would be normal for people to come and watch for fun, and it would also make the host's event seem lively.
But with a funeral, when someone in the family had died, the relatives were already heartbroken, and to have to endure the gaze of onlookers was like rubbing salt into the wound.
