The next day, I received seven thousand yuan in cash.

At nine o'clock on the morning of the 24th, I was dressed in black mourning clothes.

I sneaked into the place where the funeral was held in the Anxiang Hotel, quietly observing the situation among the crowd.

A large black and white photo hung high on the curtain in the center of the condolence hall.

The person in the photo had a full face smile, looking kind and amiable.

There were not many guests attending the wake.

Everyone carried a solemn expression.

I didn't see any familiar faces inside.

I privately inquired one of the guests about the identity of the deceased.

I learned that the person was a freelance writer during his lifetime.

He was fairly well-known in the industry.

A freelance writer?

To me, words don't connect with me; I studied science in high school and college.

I'm always very sensitive to numbers.

If it were something related to finance or numbers, I wouldn't be this puzzled.

A string of questions jumped out from my mind.

Why would Liu Xianghua's death have any inevitable link to me?

Why would his death bring me profit?

......