Five in the afternoon.
The gloomy sky was as dark as night.
Residential windows lit up, while the streets without street lamps remained dim.
Outside Song Hu's house, the line of cars hadn't dispersed, and another car had arrived recently, adding several figures entering the gate.
Soon, a figure emerged holding a lantern, hung the ghastly white lantern on the door, and then retreated back inside.
Faint noises of chaos crossed over the high walls; it seemed a mourning feast was set up in the courtyard.
Not thirty meters from Song Hu's home, by the roadside, an old Xiali car sat quietly in the dark.
The silhouette of the driver's seat was faintly visible.
Lu Li had been waiting in the car for a day, and to avoid any complications, he hadn't let Yang Chunxue out.
He couldn't guarantee whether Song Hu's ghost would detect Yang Chunxue's presence and turn tail to flee.
The cell phone screen lit up, he glanced at the time, and then it went dark again.