Three o'clock in the morning, Donghai City No. 1 Funeral Home.
The smell of disinfectant is like the soul of this building, pervasive, entering the nasal cavity and engraved in the memory.
Shen Ji stood in the funeral room No. 3, Lowering his head to put the last touch of makeup on the old man in front of him. His movements were very light and steady, as if he were afraid of disturbing the deceased's final peace.
The light was pale, making his already bloodless face even paler. Slightly messy black hair hung down, covering most of his eyes, leaving only a chiseled chin.
The old man walked peacefully, with no pain on his face.
