While Lin Xueyi was feeling perplexed, Yang Fei had already successfully escaped from the Little Police Flower's entanglement.
He changed trains midway, traveling over two thousand kilometers, and then took a long-distance bus for more than three hundred kilometers.
At last, after walking for five or six hours amidst the deep mountains and thick forests near the border of Yun Province, he finally reached his destination.
In the depths of the jungle, where the grass grew tall and the twilight was mournfully dim,
there was a row of graves on the hillside, neat and orderly, though dilapidated and secluded, yet carrying an air of solemnity that could not be violated.
There were no colorful paper money or other items for sweeping in front of each grave's tombstone.
Instead, neatly arrayed, completely filling the space, were bottles of richly fragrant Wuliangye baijiu.
"Lin Zi, Old Chang, Monkey, Liu Zi, Big Biao... I've come to see you guys."
"How are you all doing down there?"