At eight o'clock in the evening, after the autumn rain had stopped, the renowned Ao Xiang Villa in Dong Hai was brightly lit. The large courtyard of Villa No. 1 had been transformed into a mourning hall, where the bodies of Situ Chen, Fei Si, and Liu Tianjun, after being cleaned and made up, lay in suits and shoes inside three crystal coffins.
In front of the coffins, there was a rectangular table displaying the portraits of the three men, with Situ Chen in the middle, flanked by Fei Si and Liu Tianjun on either side.
In front of the portraits stood an incense burner filled with hundreds of incense sticks, the smoke permeating the air.
Situ Ruoshui, clad in hemp and wearing mourning attire, knelt in front of Situ Chen's portrait, staring blankly at the image, motionless.
Under the light, one could clearly see her delicate porcelain doll-like face covered with tear stains, her eyes red from crying, swollen as if they were panda eyes.
She had been crying for a full twelve hours.
