Professor Hu's class was at ten in the morning.
The class would last nearly an hour, ending at eleven.
Afterward, he would immediately take poison and kill himself.
It would be around noon then, with people filling both the streets and the school. No matter how brazen Tang Tianming was, he could not possibly make a move in the street or at the school.
Early that morning, Professor Hu's home was full of people from our Daoist temple.
From then on, we would stay close to him the entire time, until he died, his body was cremated, and his single soul headed to the City God Temple.
After breakfast, Professor Hu sat in the living room while his son and daughter-in-law said their goodbyes.
Only the three of them lived there. Professor Hu also had two grandsons working out of town. Apparently, neither had been told that he was critically ill.
After all, he would be gone in just a few hours.
Even though Professor Hu's son and daughter-in-law had long since prepared themselves, who could truly take the imminent death of a loved one in stride?
Hu Zhiwen's eyes were red as he kept holding Professor Hu's hand.
Professor Hu smiled, comforting his aging son, who was already fifty himself. "Every gathering must come to an end. After I'm gone, take care of my estate properly. I'm leaving everything at home to you."
"Don't tell those two grandsons of mine yet. Wait until the funeral arrangements are finished and I'm buried before you tell them. Otherwise, it'll interfere with their work. There's no point in young people remaining immersed in grief. Time is precious."
Hu Zhiwen nodded, too choked up to speak.
Really, when someone was about to die, there was little left to say.
Death was like a