The people from the funeral home were leaving one after another. Su Yue left with them, but he didn't go back to the city.
The backyard of the funeral home was a place where people could burn paper—this was a way of remembrance in the technological age, a tradition some people still carried on.
However, Su Yue didn't burn any paper. He picked up a pen used to write the names of the deceased and drew a head on the ground, with nine strands of hair on top.
"Are you Su Yue from the Second High School?"
"I'm Liao Ji."
A young boy dressed in camouflage walked over to Su Yue's side.
"Liao Ji?"
Su Yue frowned.
The one from the Third High, with a Qi Blood value of 16 cards.
"Gee, are you worshiping a salted egg?
"A moldy salted egg?"
Looking at the abstract drawing in front of Su Yue, Liao Ji could only interpret it this way.
Maybe Su Yue had an eccentricity; he raised a salted egg that got moldy and accidentally died?
