The negative second floor of the hospital has always been a place rife with rumors.
And the evil aura here is the strongest Yang Fan has ever seen.
Bizarrely, it is even more exaggerated than the ghostly presence he inadvertently encountered in Xiang Xue Ting's neighborhood, a chillness that seemed to burrow into his bones, especially at the back, cold as a bowl of water left outside in winter.
Outside the morgue, there is a designated area for burning paper money.
A group of men, women, old and young are kneeling on the ground, watching over a black-and-white photo of Yao Wei, wailing and burning paper money. Nearby, an exhaust fan whirs, drawing up the smoke from the burning paper money without missing a trace to the outside.
Yang Fan walked over and placed the paper money he brought aside, first burning a few notes for Yao Wei, then asked the middle-aged man who looked about sixty next to him: "You are Yao Wei's father?"
