The rain was beginning to let up.
At the Wind Character Tower of Fufeng Academy, in a wooden cabin,
Wang Anfeng knelt on the ground, before him a piece of yellow paper folded into a spirit tablet. The three sticks of incense in front of it had already burnt out, the embers still warm with fire. A gust of wind swept by and scattered them all around.
The youth's eyes opened slowly.
When his father passed away, it was Libai himself who had arranged the funeral. He had also said that he had no interest in leaving behind a spirit tablet. As a result, even as his only son, Wang Anfeng could only resort to folding a piece of yellow paper as a substitute.
The aroma of the burnt incense lingered in the air around his nose.