The funeral was held on a sunny morning,
where the sky was fluffed up with white clouds that hung low, pressing with a dull weight that mirrored the mood of those gathered.
Lin stood near a tree, hands clasped loosely in front of him, dressed in black that felt too formal and too distant all at once. The scent of incense lingered in the air, mingling with the faint smell of white chrysanthemums in the cemetery.
The Hou family didn't have that many relatives, so the whole funeral affair was quite private with very few visitors. As the eldest son, it was Lin's responsibility to carry out the last rites. But he remained still where he was, unable to take a single step forward. He could only watch Hou Fa near the burial place, weeping like the man he never knew. He had never seen Hou Fa vulnerable, yet here he was, unable to hold back his tears.
