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Taiping Bridge Cemetery, an hour later.
Liu Qingying and Dead Pig stood before a tombstone halfway up the mountain cemetery, placing down each of their bouquets.
Liu Qingying took two steps back and produced three short incense sticks and a lighter from her retro handbag, lighting them before handing them to Dead Pig. “These are yours. I know you won’t bring any.”
“Haha, thanks.” Dead Pig accepted the incense sticks with a smile.
She then took out another three incense sticks and lit them. The two stood shoulder-to-shoulder, praying to the tombstone thrice before offering the incense.
After that, Dead Pig started uprooting the weeds around the tomb barehanded, painting the picture of a burly farmer tending to his farm. All the while, Liu Qingying...
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