The setting sun cast a slanted glow, painting the lake a faint red.
At the entrance of the village, white banners fluttered lightly on an old willow.
The evening wind swept through, carrying paper money that danced in the air.
Li Yan and others entered the midst of the village, where the faint sound of weeping from various households mingled with the half-hearted chanting of monks, creating an atmosphere that was quite oppressive.
Just past the open space by the large willow tree, there was a stone mill, and on it sat a bare-bottomed child, cradling a small yellow dog, his eyes empty as he stared into the distance.
Shen Jinghong saw this and could not help frowning, "Little dog, what are you doing here? Hurry back home for dinner."
After all, with outsiders present, such a scene was indeed indecent.
As they looked at the group of people, the child was clearly frightened, lowered his head, and said, "There's... no food to eat."
"Where's your father?"
"Father is dead."
