When the cheerful afternoon sunlight streamed through the slightly worn-out door into the house, the young men and women inside and Yang Fan at the door were all stunned. It was as if time had frozen, their six eyes locked in a silence as awkward as death itself.
"Sorry, I didn't know you were... you continue, I'll wait."
Yang Fan glanced quickly at the young couple pressed tightly together and shut the room door.
The games that young men and women play these days seemed even wilder than his own.
Compared to these two kids, he felt like he was forcibly squeezed into the ranks of middle-aged people.
The layout of this household was in the form of a traditional courtyard house, with the north room being the ancestral shrine where the offering table stood.
And yet, this young couple was actually fooling around right next to the offering table.
With the ancestors' spirit tablets shaking left and right to their rhythm on the table, Yang Fan was nearly losing his mind.
