Late at night, all was quiet.
Hui Xian and Little Stone had casually spread out a mattress and were sleeping like logs. Wang Jufu's wife, exhausted from crying, slumped before the coffin in a state between sleep and wakefulness. If Bai Yujun had not secretly fed her a pill, she likely would have collapsed long ago.
At the entrance to the Spirit Hall, Bai Yujun leaned against the wall, carving bamboo with a small knife.
Swish, swish, swish...
Bamboo shavings fluttered through the air as a flute gradually took shape. Once she finished carving it, she tossed it directly into her storage pouch, picked up another length of bamboo, and continued working, her knife swishing without pause.
There was a fine purple bamboo tree in the Wang Family courtyard, perfect for making flutes. Besides, no one had said a word to stop her.
Perhaps she had slept too much lately and was not particularly sleepy. She had gone to cut bamboo in the dead of night, when everyone was asleep and no one had the leisure to care about the bamboo in the yard. The long night was boring anyway; finding something to do was better than eating all the chickens, ducks, and geese Old Landlord Wang kept.
Perhaps Wang Jufu's wife had dreamed of her dead husband. She jolted awake, only to see a dark-colored coffin before her.
"Hubby..."
With soft sobs, she was about to cry again.
Bai Yujun felt she ought to distract her. At this rate, sooner or later, she would follow him down to the underworld.
She truly was miserable. In the countryside, women like her were called classic husband-jinxes and were despised. She had married into the Wang Household, yet her husband had died before she could even bear him a child. To those