Above the clouds.
Wang Ping calmly gazed down at the lively funeral banquet below. His feelings for his parents in this life existed only in memory, yet that same memory made his current composure feel like an act.
"It's as if they deliberately chose to leave when I wasn't here, to keep me from seeing them off one last time," Wang Ping murmured his thoughts aloud.
"You're always overthinking things," Yu Lian whispered in response.
Wang Ping said no more, simply watching the lively residence below in silence. As day turned to night, the bustling home gradually fell quiet.
Everything returned to normal. Children still played in the residence's backyard, but they were different children now.
For most people, the old woman's death was a perfectly normal event, just a small episode in the course of their lives.
