By the time Qingming arrived, a lingering, fine drizzle filled the air. Zhao Yan readied the wine, joss paper, incense, and candles needed for the ancestral rites, donned his coir raincape, and prepared to head out.
Although the rain was still falling, the road was crowded with people traveling in family groups. Aside from very infants, almost everyone was carrying something, all hurrying off to pay respects to their forebears.
Zhao Yan was quite an anomaly; while other families walked in bustling groups, he walked entirely alone, forming a solitary procession of one.
Chapter 216