In the middle of the courtyard, there was an Arhat Bed, and on the Arhat Bed lay a corpse covered with silk. It was undoubtedly the deceased King Fan.
Behind the Arhat Bed stood a man who appeared to be in his thirties, wearing a plain white robe with wide sleeves. He was dark-skinned and thin, with a small stature.
Judging by his attire, it seemed as if he had long anticipated that a funeral would be held today at the Fanwang Mansion.
His complexion looked terrible, the muscles on his cheeks seemed stiff, yet his eyes were fixed firmly on the group entering from outside, swallowing hard a few times.
This man was very nervous.
Zhu Yu silently observed everything before her, arriving at a conclusion in her heart.
This was interesting.
Seeing the other so nervous, Zhu Yu gradually relaxed instead.
