Beichen leaned against the utility pole smoking, "Who knows what's going on."
"Even you don't know," Xiao Li sighed, her complexion suddenly changing.
Intermittent crying could be heard not far away.
In the pitch-black of the night, there was an addition of a funeral procession, cloaked in sackcloth and filial piety bands.
Beichen frowned, "A funeral in the middle of the night?"
"It's Zhou Ping's wife's funeral," Xiao Li said with a hint of fear, hiding behind Beichen, "As per the customs of Spring Wind Town, those who die in unfortunate ways must be buried at midnight to dispel bad luck!"
"Why are there two coffins, one big and one small?" Beichen's expression became even more somber.
Xiao Li shuddered, "Oh no, don't tell me Zhou Ping's son is dead too?"
The funeral procession neared, the sounds of gongs and drums growing louder with each step.
It soon became clear that the pallbearers were carrying two coffins, and Zhou Ping was lying on top of one, crying inconsolably.
