Just after midnight, despite fits and starts, everyone's cries had left their throats hoarse and their voices smoky.
Their knees ached piercingly.
But it was no matter to them; they struggled to help each other stand up, and after a token tidying up, they prepared to return to their rooms to rest.
Only Wang Yongzhen was still kneeling there, sobbing and missing her dear father, unwilling to leave in utmost grief.
Wang Yonggui had been tormented all day and was exhausted both in body and spirit. He longed to lie down on his kang bed and relax his bones. And then there were his few children, who had endured the long night, each barely able to keep their eyes open, standing on the verge of sleep—how could he not feel pained?
Yet Wang Yongzhen, lacking any sense, was still kneeling in the courtyard crying, and that sure made it difficult for him to sleep.
