The days go on, and people are constantly changing their lifestyles in vain to find more fun. At this moment, I was standing at the door of the abandoned factory that I had known so well, ready to start my career as an instructor. Time is so interesting, it's always in reincarnation, and I can't help but think of that old poor ghost again.

It seems that this is really the case, the scene when I first met him is still very clear, maybe it is because I have lost my memory, so I remember everything after that very hard. Serious to the details, deep to the heart.

After burying the old poor ghost, I never came here again. I didn't take anything with me when I left, not even the door. For me this is where it all began, I thought I would always come over and have a look, it was too much trouble to bring the keys. But I haven't been here once, and I've never missed it. People can only connect with people, and they don't care much about the place, and if they miss it, they just miss the people who used to be here.

I don't miss that old poor ghost, and naturally I never came back here. I pushed open the rusted iron door, and the sound was unpleasant, and every time I moved, there was dust. The old poor ghost is buried in this backyard, and it is time to go and see him first.

I walked through the entire factory area, leaving footprints on the dusty ground with every step. After walking for a while, I saw the little dirt bag. It looks very abrupt on the concrete floor of a water. There is also no grass on the natural graves.

When I buried him, there was a square hole in the ground, and I don't know what kind of machine was there. But it's just big enough to fit an urn. When I buried it, I was still thinking that this old man always got up in the middle of the night to go out to release water, and I don't know if he used this pit or not. Anyway, it's just a handful of ashes, use it, use it, anyway, he never dislikes himself.

When he first died, he was taken directly to the funeral home, and when I met him, he was lying in a coffin with electricity on it, and the staff explained that the hospital had no place to put it, and it had to be put in the same person to claim it. I glanced through the glass of the coffin at the old man, who seemed to be thinner than when he was alive. There seem to be water droplets on the face.

I think he must have been thrown in the cold storage before I came, and he was moved out when he heard that someone had come to claim it, so it was easier to ask for money. The staff asked me if I was going home for the funeral or if I was going to do it right here. As soon as I think about what kind of home there is, I'll put it here.

In fact, if the funeral home is considered a business, then his business is definitely prosperous. The mourning hall is obviously insufficient, and it is really first-come, first-served. Either the people come first, or the money comes first.

For 5,000 yuan, I chose a fairly spacious mourning hall for the old poor ghost. On the left and on the right, there are bursts of mourning, and there is an endless stream of mourning for sending wreaths in the corridor. In contrast, I was the only one in the room. It was indeed deserted, and I closed the door of the mourning hall, and according to custom, I could only keep a vigil for him.

I sat on the cushion prepared for the guardian and looked at the coffin in a daze. I never thought he would die like this, I thought he would die of drinking, smoking, and it would have been easier to get shot to death. But there must be some signs, some traces. I questioned the person who found him, as well as the police, but there was no trace of him, and no cause of death could be found without an autopsy.

Clean, clean like the site he carefully cleans after each order. I even suspect that it was he who killed himself and then cleaned everything up, which is impossible.

Thinking about it, I began to curse, didn't I say that I would raise you. Why are you going out, looking for stimulation, your hands are itchy? I kept counting him, and then I felt very sad. This time he finally kept silent, maybe he felt that he was at a loss.

I did this all night, not burning him a piece of paper, just lighting incense for him and smoking myself. He said something that he didn't have, and finally he was out of words, and then he was silent about his coffin until dawn.

Even here, the money of the living is more useful. The staff took the money to arrange the first cremation. When I was alive, I liked to eat the first cage of steamed buns, so I naturally wouldn't wronged him. When it's time to push in, I ask them to stop. The family members in the back queue seemed to be a little dissatisfied, and they didn't know what everyone was anxious about.

I didn't care, knelt down and kowtowed three times. I think the most important thing that a corpse is left behind as a person, and people still have a lot of feelings, so I would like to thank him.

Then the corpse was pushed into the furnace, the fire was blazing, a wisp of smoke, and a handful of ashes. I hugged the urn and turned to leave. They were all amazed at what I did, but it didn't matter to me anymore, and I guess the poor man didn't want to spend his money on meaningless pomp, even if I died.

I carried the urn of the old poor ghost on my back and walked back to the factory step by step, from morning to midnight, the city was still too big after all. On the urn is a photo of him smiling extremely brightly, black and white, very joyful.

I finally fulfilled my promise, you said that your leg may fall into the root of the disease, and you can't walk if you can't walk, I tell you: When you can't walk, I will try to carry you on my back, walk the road I often walk, and take you home.