It didn't even look like he was simply paying his respects.
In the noisy night, the abstract level of Cardon's behavior had clearly climbed to a new high.
And the old man was so absorbed in what he was doing that even Fu Qian, watching from the side, couldn't help feeling a bit impressed for a moment.
Down on one knee, but the odds of it being a proposal were probably pretty low.
On the one hand, there was no ring in his hand; on the other hand, it was easy enough for Fu Qian to tell the skeleton was also male.
A male corpse buried deep underground many years ago, one that had lingered in Cardon's mind so long that, on his deathbed, he had to rush over to dig it up and bow on his knees.
The tangled grievances here really sent the imagination racing.
In fact, to Fu Qian, it wasn't completely without clues—
First, the dead man's clothes: at this distance he could even make out some of the details.
On a dark red background, faint, delicate embroidery could be seen.
