Under the Song of the Water Tune, Xu Feng rode the wind in emptiness. He was within the moon, yet the moon was before his eyes. Inside that full moon, smoke from an Incense Stick curled around once more.
It formed scene after scene before finally taking the shape of Zhao San, as though he were real.
No. He was real.
As the incense smoke swirled, it became a real scene. Xu Feng recognized it at once: this was the Funeral Hall he had just seen!
Even the Ever-Burning Lamp overhead and the Three Incense Sticks below were exactly the same.
From time to time, Xu Feng could see people coming to pay their respects.
Compared with Master,
far more people had come to mourn Xu Feng.
People said a Corpse Sewer's death was ill-omened and might bring trouble. But Xu Feng had died peacefully of old age, and not one person thought his corpse was inauspicious!
Xu Feng watched, blinking.
His vantage point was strange. He seemed to be facing the deathbed where the body lay, close enough to see its face, while floating at a forty-five-degree angle above it. And because he had died of old age, there was no white or yellow paper covering Xu Feng—Zhao San's face.
Xu Feng looked at Zhao San's utterly familiar face.
If it was true that, after thirty, a person's face reflected their heart,
then Xu Feng was quite pleased with the face his heart had shaped.
It looked like the face of a resolute, stubborn old man.
Even in death, his expression was earnest and grave. The sorrow that had marked it in the beginning was gone.
It just took some getting used to.
It felt like looking at himself in a Mirror!
But as Xu Feng watched Zhao San's