Zhao Chuanchun may have passed away, but the flow of people coming to pay their respects at the memorial hall showed no sign of stopping. The garden, originally a modest size, now had a line extending over a hundred meters, and it was still growing.
Lin Fan sat under the shade of the trees, his eyes watching the steady stream of visitors. At this moment, Ru Long and Ru Feng had also donned mourning clothes and were kneeling in front of the incense burner, frequently bowing to the crowd of people, while Nie Yinghong, with swollen red eyes from crying, sat beside them on a chair. Her husband was gone, but thankfully, her children had been able to come home—sadness mingled with a small stroke of luck.
"Lin, the crematorium has been taken care of. They'll clean out the furnace for us after work tonight, just to give County Magistrate Luan a cleaner send-off."
