Yu Minglang was taken aback by Qian's words, and after a few seconds, he shook his head bitterly.
"There's no such thing as ghosts and gods in this world; it's all made up by people to scare themselves."
Qian nodded, then shook her head.
"I don't comment on such supernatural phenomena, but what I want to say is that when we're finally buried beneath yellow earth and white bones, what can remain?"
"The spirit."
Qian nodded.
"Yes, wealth doesn't count, and what truly remains for the descendants is nothing but a spirit. Balan is gone now, but if you imagine him returning, what would he say to you?"
"He would hate me, hate me for taking his life."
"I don't think so. If he could come back, he would be excited at the sight of the bottle in your hand and say, 'Today you brought the wine!'
Yu Minglang was startled by Qian's description but relaxed his brows faintly.
"So you know him well."
According to Balan's character, he might indeed say that.
