The black stains were incredibly faint, blending in with the soil and nearly impossible to spot. Only upon close inspection could one make out the traces.
And those stains did not belong here.
Ye Chutang stood up, casually wiping her hands on a handkerchief as she surveyed her surroundings.
The vegetation had yet to flourish, so the mountain was covered in yellow and white patches of withered grass.
It wasn't hard to imagine, however, that this place would be lush and overgrown come spring and summer.
When that time came, it would be even less likely for anyone to notice this ordinary, unremarkable grave.
Xiao Wu walked over curiously and squatted where Ye Chutang had just been. She reached out her small hand, wanting to touch the ground as well.
Ye Chutang stopped her.
"Don't touch it. It's just traces of someone having burned paper offerings here."
Hearing this, Xiao Wu immediately froze. She scurried over to Ye Chutang's side on her short little legs, her eyes wide.
