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In the hall of mourning, the coffin was gradually sealed as the vigil keepers in mourning attire sat at the door.
The spirit money was consumed by the flames and, with a gust of the night wind, scattered across the night sky.
Grey-white and quiet, the sound of rustling leaves intertwined, as if composing a requiem that made all earthly glamor fade away...
Death was always inescapable, an inevitable part of life one had to face.
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