When Chen Jiannan received the call, it was raining outside the window like God pouring water on his feet. The word "Uncle Long" on the mobile phone screen was blurred by the rain, making it look particularly ferocious.
"Funeral parlor? Now?" He wiped the rain off his face, the smell of blood from last night's fight still lingering between his fingers. The person on the other end of the phone hesitated and said only that the body's "posture was not right" and that the family members needed to deal with it urgently.
He stared at the purple corners of his mouth in the mirror and suddenly smiled: "I have been his adopted son for ten years, and at the end of the day, I have to be an undertaker?"
