The day before, Chi Zhenghong had already been notified by phone. On the call, Chi Zhenghong said he had checked the weather forecast; there would be heavy rain the next day.
Chi Jingxuan didn't give him any room to refuse, just said, "Even if knives fall from the sky, we're going," and then hung up the phone.
On the other end of the line, hearing the busy tone, Chi Zhenghong's face turned livid with anger.
"What if they don't come?"
Turning to look at the dim rain outside the window, Qin Yuji softly asked.
Chi Jingxuan smiled slightly and said with certainty, "They will come."
The scenery along the road grew increasingly bleak. As they neared the graveyard, the rain lessened considerably, though the sky was still a mass of dark clouds.
When they reached the entrance of the West Suburb Graveyard, many cars were already parked at the foot of the hill, all there to pay their respects, yet fewer people were heading up the hill.
