At night in Niuxin Village, it was the Qingming Festival again.
People burning joss paper along the roadside came and went in an endless stream. Since most people in the village had migrated from elsewhere and had no ancestral graves to worship, they could only draw a circle by the roadside, leaving an opening toward the direction of their ancestral graves to burn paper.
The white smoke mingling with the faint moonlight made the whole Niuxin Village seem like an ethereal realm. A solitary red figure emerged from the white smoke.
That was Li Huowang, holding a lot of joss paper and many gold ingots in his hand.
He passed through the village and arrived at the gate of the Bai Family Courtyard, where no one else lived but him.
Li Huowang stood at the gate motionless, looking at the white gauze lantern and the yellow couplets on both sides, and suddenly chuckled silently.
