My brother entrusted his child to me, and I livestreamed raising the baby, making the Empress cry wi

The crowd buzzed and made a complete mess of noise.

Being able to freely comment on these usually aloof and untouchable figures has given many ordinary people a distorted sense of excitement.

They slammed their fists on the table, glared, their faces flushed, spitting as they talked, so engrossed in it that they seemed to have become important figures who could judge right and wrong.

Of course, there are also some people who have never wavered from beginning to end—

They watched coldly as the two clowns on the sky clawed and bit each other, a mocking smile playing on their lips.

These two people.

Not a single one of them is any good!

……

Inside the mourning hall.

Lin Ye glanced at the comments and saw that the two of them were indeed arguing as he had expected, so he looked away and ignored them.

Because the emcee arrived at that moment.

"Mr. Lin..." He leaned close to Lin Ye's ear and whispered, "If we don't seal the coffin soon... we'll miss the auspicious time..."

Lin Ye nodded to indicate that he understood.

He stepped forward and knelt down again beside the small, trembling figure.

Then he stretched out his arms and steadily pulled the little girl, who was crying so hard she was almost exhausted, into his arms. He then picked her up little by little and let her tear-stained, cold face press against his shoulder.

"It's alright, little dumpling, it's alright." His voice was low and gentle, transmitted through the vibrations in his chest.

Xiao Douzi buried her face deep in his clothes, her scalding tears silently seeping out and quickly soaking a large patch of fabric again. The dampness carried a burning temperature, making Lin Ye's heart tighten.

"Little Douzi, your godfather said that your father hasn't left."

He paused, adjusted his holding position to make her feel more secure against him.

Then he raised a hand, gently placing his warm palm on the back of the small head, stroking it tenderly.

"He's become a particularly bright star in the sky. No matter where Little Douzi is in the future..."

His voice softened, as if he were telling a sweet and true secret.

"He can see you. He'll keep watching, watching our little one, growing taller and taller—"

With his other hand, he gestured a height in the air, palm facing upwards, as if holding up an invisible hope.

"Grow into an exceptionally beautiful and capable young woman, admired and respected by everyone."

The little boy was stunned.

Her sobs stopped abruptly, and a small head hesitantly tilted up from his chest.

Her little face was covered in tears, one horizontal and one vertical line, making her look extremely disheveled.

But little by little, her eyes, red and swollen from being soaked in tears, began to brighten again.

"Really...really, Godfather?" she asked, her voice hoarse and trembling uncontrollably with each word.

"Of course it's true." Lin Ye lowered his head and gently touched her slightly cool forehead with his own.

It was a brief, comforting touch.

He then stepped back slightly, gazing into her eyes with a calm and resolute look. "Godfather, when have you ever lied to Little Dumpling?"

Xiao Douzi nodded sullenly, raised his arm, and used the wide sleeve of his plain white mourning clothes to wipe his face haphazardly.

The cotton fabric brushed against her skin, wiping away the remaining tears and leaving faint red marks.

Then she turned around.

The pallbearers silently walked past her and toward the still-lying coffin.

The heavy coffin lid was slowly pushed up and finally closed with a crisp "click".

It wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down one's spine. Then came the dull, rhythmic "thud, thud" of a nail being hammered in, one strike after another, bringing everything to a close.

The emcee held a photo frame in both hands, bent down, and handed it to Xiao Douzi.

That was Ye Fan's portrait.

The black and white color freezes time. The man in the photo has his face slightly turned to the side, his eyebrows relaxed, and a gentle smile as warm as spring water on his lips.

It's as if he'll step out of the photograph at any moment and gently call out, "Little Pocket."

The picture frame was a bit too heavy for a five-year-old.

The fine rosewood gleamed with a deep, dark red luster, the brass corners were curved with a gentle warmth, and the glass was polished to a shine, clearly reflecting Xiaodouzi's pale face.

It was wider than the shoulders of the small bag, and she had to use both hands to hold it with great effort.

Lin Ye instinctively reached out his hand, wanting to help her take it.

Little Douzi, however, was holding the photo frame and took a half-step back with her small body.

She looked up, her eyes resolute, "Godfather."

His voice was still hoarse, but no longer trembling. He said clearly, word by word, "I can do it."

After saying that, she hugged the photo frame even tighter and more securely to her chest.

The little arms wrapped around her father's smile, as if she were holding onto the last bit of warmth left in the world by the person in the photograph.

Then, she followed the dean and Lin Ye out of the mourning hall.

The hem of the mourning clothes trailed in an arc on the ground, stirring up fine dust that tumbled for a moment in the sunlight before quietly settling back to the ground.

Outside the door, the midday sun of late autumn shone on everyone's faces, creating an atmosphere as if they were in another world.

The dean's back was hunched, his steps were heavy, and his black cloth shoes made a dull sound on the cement floor.

Lin Ye slowed his pace, letting Xiao Douzi walk beside him. His shadow loomed over her, like a safe and protective barrier.

Behind the small bag were people carrying the coffin, and beside the coffin was a simple procession of relatives and friends.

No one spoke, only the sounds of footsteps and breathing, and the occasional chirping of unknown birds from the mountains and forests carried by the wind.

The group silently continued their winding journey towards the back of the mountain.

The leaves of the old maple tree beside the courtyard rustled, as if bidding farewell to the person lying in the coffin.

The cemetery was chosen on a gentle slope halfway up the mountain, surrounded by tall cypress trees whose dark green needles carried a solemn chill.

From here, the entire orphanage can be seen, with its red tiles and white walls clearly visible.

The weeds around the tomb have been cleared away, revealing the yellowish-brown new soil. A square pit stands silently, waiting.

The funeral home staff calmly and skillfully lowered the coffin into the grave, the ropes making a slight rubbing sound.

Then, it landed steadily.

Lin Ye took a specially made golden shovel from his assistant, who had been silently following him.

He held it in both hands and presented it to the dean who had been gazing intently at the tomb.

The old man raised his eyes from the grave, stretched out his withered hand, which trembled slightly but gripped the shovel handle with unusual steadiness.

She stepped forward and shoveled the first shovelful of soil from the newly piled-up mound beside her.

The yellow dust swirled and fell onto the dark coffin lid, making a rustling sound.

The old man's lips trembled a few times, and he said hoarsely in a voice only he could hear, "Xiao Fan... in your next life, you must outlive this old woman before you leave, understand...?"

She stepped back and handed the shovel to Lin Ye.

After Lin Ye, other relatives and friends followed, one after another, scattering shovelfuls of yellow earth, carrying all their thoughts and wishes, into that square space.

The dark coffin surface gradually lightened, and the patterns on the coffin lid slowly blurred until they disappeared completely.

……

In the Great Flame Kingdom, countless people, without prior agreement, shouted out at the same time:

"Lord Ye! May you rest in peace!"