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The four of them remained silent. Apart from the wailing lament of the wind and Wang Cuihong’s soft sobs, the back hill was quiet.
Ye Beizhi pulled out the last weed in front of the grave and, with his back to Fang Dingwu, said, "Brother Fang, pass me the water flask."
Fang Dingwu silently unfastened the flask from his waist and handed it to Ye Beizhi.
Fang Dingwu wasn’t an alcoholic, so he naturally didn’t have the habit of carrying alcohol everywhere like Xue Qiming did.
Kneeling halfway in front of the grave, Ye Beizhi removed the stopper from the flask and tilted its mouth. Crystal-clear water poured out like tears.
None of them had brought incense, candles, paper money, or offerings when they climbed the mountain....
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