To make this move clearly means that one has already reached the limit of patience.
Chang Yan and Wang Fufeng had spent a long time together in the Wang family compound, and their friendship was naturally strong. He felt obliged to see his old friend off.
"Since we're here, let's lower the coffin." Xu Mo sighed softly.
The snow had stopped, and the coffin had been cleaned spotlessly. Working together, they placed the pristine and immaculate body of the young master Fufeng into the deep pit and covered it with the purest soil.
As the coffin disappeared, the handsome young master, refined and polished, finally fell into a long slumber.
"Young master, please slow down!" a loyal servant of the Wang family cried out hoarsely.
One sentence brought tears to my eyes.
The Confucian scholars and scribes of Anshui County wiped the mud from their eyes and piled up the shape of the grave mound.
There is no tombstone, and it is difficult to even erect a wooden plaque.
But it doesn't matter, sooner or later, his friends will carve a brand new stone tablet for him.
"Fufeng, may you rest in peace!"
After burying his deceased relatives, Xu Mo did not return home. Instead, he led a fully loaded carriage to send Wang Mingyu and the others back to their hometown.
"We originally planned to come together and leave together, but we didn't expect that someone would still be missing." Mr. Qian promised with red eyes, "Xiao Mo, don't worry, I will keep this to myself."
"Brother Xu, rest assured, I will manage the Wang family well and take good care of Uncle San and Wang Haoran," Wang Mingyu promised, clenching his fist.
He never saw his friend again and left alone.
The carriage drove further and further away until it disappeared from sight.
Xu Mo was finally able to turn around and look at the disguised Chang Yan, his eyes deep and cold, "Xiao Wu, I don't want to hold back anymore."
I didn't want to be passive.
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