So soon, the mourning hall had already been set up.
The photograph they chose for Ning Shouzheng's obituary portrayed him before his hair had turned white, with sharp facial features and a hint of vigor.
Yet Ruan Liuzheng couldn't help but recall the image of him in the back garden, as he built a paradise for Ning Yu and Ning Hui, with hair completely white, hunched back, and aged demeanor all exposed.
At that moment, she could no longer hold back, and the tears streamed down relentlessly.
After all, this was her dad.
Choking back tears, she respectfully offered three sticks of incense.
As she inserted the incense into the censer, she glanced at Ning Zhiqian by her side, whose hand trembled, causing the incense stick to not go in properly and fall out. On closer inspection, she realized that his hand had been burnt by the incense, leaving behind a dark, round mark.
She stooped down to pick it up and handed it back to him to insert again.
