The night sky was as if dyed with thick ink, without a trace of a star, with everything around quiet and still.
A gentle breeze stirred the bamboo grove, creating rustling sounds that seemed particularly chilling in the deserted cemetery.
Yet, there was no trace of fear on Ji Tingyang's face as he walked through the cemetery, stopping in front of a tombstone deep inside.
After leaving Wen Li's place, he had come to South Mountain Cemetery.
Bathed in the moonlight hanging high, he quietly gazed at the smiling face of the woman on the tombstone, a sorrowful emotion swirling in his eyes.
The photo on the tombstone was somewhat dirty, Ji Tingyang reached out to wipe it, his fingertips gently brushing the cheeks in the photo. During the silence, even the surrounding air seemed to soak up the sadness.
He realized he hadn't visited here in a long time.