Discount

The temperature had dropped. It was not late autumn, nor was it early winter—winter had truly arrived. In the cold weather, as long as the wind outside was gentle, basking in the sun outdoors was far more comfortable than staying inside a drafty, chilly house. Paul and Ron sat in the courtyard, each perched on a small stool. The past month had been exhausting, so busy at times that they wished they could squeeze onto the gurney beside the "guests" just to sneak a nap. Only over the past few days had things finally quieted down again. Of course, as experienced funeral parlor workers, they knew this was likely the last brief lull they would enjoy this year. Many elderly people simply could not survive the perilous passage from deep winter into early spring. They might brace themselves in autumn and fortify their resolve in early winter, but when the true cold wave swept in and forced their aching, frail bones to battle the elements, many had no choice but to resign themselves to fate—letting the cycle of seasons sweep through like a broom, carrying them to the end of their lives. Ron dangled a cigarette from his mouth, toying with a deck of cards and muttering every now and then in regret over how he had failed to turn last night's great hand into real profit. Paul, meanwhile, was engrossed in a book on electrical work, jotting down notes with a pencil from time to time. Karen walked out into the courtyard carrying a pig's head. "Oho, Young Master! What delicious food are you preparing today?" Ron stood up at once and trotted over. Ever since the young master had recovered enough from his injuries to walk around, the daily staff meals had become exceptionally rich and exquisite. Dishes Ron had never eaten—or even heard of—were served at noon every day, and the taste was pure bliss. Paul closed his book as well and looked over. "Ron, bring me a basin with some water." "Right away, Young Master." Very few people in this world ever minded lending a hand to a cook. Before long, Ron returned carrying an aluminum basin full of water. "Ahhh..." Aunt Mary let out a yawn as she emerged from the living room, handing Karen a gas blowtorch. Karen took the torch and chuckled. "I didn't expect we'd actually have one of these at home." With that, Karen ignited it and began singeing the bristles off the pig's head with the flame. Aunt Mary said, "Some guests have quite a lot of body hair and need this to burn it off." Karen asked with some curiosity, "Isn't more body hair supposed to be better? More manly?" Aunt Mary shrugged. "Not all body hair grows on the chest." Then, drawing upon her vast experience with countless "guests," Aunt Mary sighed, "Some people have body hair growing in other places—disgusting beyond belief." "Heh." Karen chuckled and continued carefully singeing the pig's head. Aunt Mary watched the scene with curiosity before picking up where she had left off. "Then there are those who, when alive, thought having thick body hair was a mark of manhood, even treating it as some sort of narcissistic charm. Yet they couldn't smell the stench coming off their own bodies. Even after they die, the lingering odor is still there, while their wives have been disgusted and repulsed by it for goodness knows how many years. "When the man is alive, there's nothing they can do. So once he dies, the wives often insist that we shave off all their husband's body hair while preparing him for the casket." "For appearance's sake?" "No. I think it's purely to vent their spite." "Such love is truly enviable." "Who told husbands to generally pass away before their wives?" Aunt Mary smoothed her hair. "Besides, some men just love finding wives much younger than themselves. Being unable to keep their body hair after death is considered lucky. Resentment and complaints at least mean she cared. We've seen plenty of cases where the widow brings her lover to her husband's memorial service." If it wasn't a busy period and the relatives all lived in the city, the time from death to memorial service and burial was usually only three days. "That's why I stopped believing in love," Ron chimed in. "What about that little caregiver of yours at the sanatorium?" Karen asked. "Good heavens, don't bring her up. My heart was shattered to pieces because of her long ago." "Couldn't get a date? I recall you wanted to ask her out to a movie." "I did get a date! We went to six movies together." "Did you have popcorn?" Karen asked. "We licked each other's ten fingers clean, and every time the movie finished, the sanatorium was already locked up for the night. To look after her, I had to accompany her to a small hotel to book a room and rest." "Isn't that great?" Karen set down the blowtorch and began scraping the pig's head with a knife. "You watched movies and did the deed. Didn't you plan to propose to her?" "I promised her that I wouldn't drink or gamble anymore, that I'd work hard and hand all my earnings over to her to manage. She was very touched." "And then?" "And then, the day before I planned to propose, an old rentier about to be discharged from the sanatorium confessed his feelings to her. She said yes." "Oh. That truly is a sad story." "Tell me about it! I was heartbroken for so long. To think I actually got beaten out by an old geezer." "No, Ron. What beat you out was the rentier." "Well, that's true too. But my fiancée just left me like that." "Look at it from another angle: someone else's fiancée went to that many movies with you before her wedding." Ron pondered this seriously for a moment, and then a grin spread across his face. "Young Master, hearing you put it that way, I suddenly feel like I came out ahead." "Naturally." Just then, Paul spoke up. "Young Master, Madam, there's a question I'd like to ask you." "Go ahead." Karen continued carefully scraping the pig's head. He had craved this pig's head meat for a long time. In his past life, his hometown county had precious few signature delicacies, and pig's head meat was about the best among them—rich and savory without being greasy. Ever since he had taken over cooking duties, the family's kitchen had undergone a gradual "peaceful evolution." While the family hadn't been completely stunned by Chinese cuisine, it was enough to make them realize just how bland and monotonous their previous diet had been. Paul asked, "If someone wants to take the next step with a young lady, how should he go about saying it?" "A movie!" Ron yelled immediately. "A late-night screening!" Paul ignored Ron's advice completely. Aunt Mary smiled. "Is it with Miss Kutch?" Paul gave a bashful nod. "Yes, Madam. Thank you, Madam." It was Aunt Mary who had introduced Paul to the young lady. Miss Kutch's father was a master carpenter at a coffin factory; though the family's circumstances were ordinary, they were all honest and down-to-earth people. Aunt Mary naturally wouldn't introduce such a girl to Ron, but Paul's diligence and dependability were clear to everyone, so Aunt Mary had happily played matchmaker. "Have you visited her parents?" Aunt Mary asked. "I have. Her father is a wonderful man, her mother is very gentle, and my mother likes her very much too. We've set the wedding for spring." Karen understood. Paul had already settled everything regarding marriage, yet he was stuck on the step of "sleeping together." It was not something to laugh at. There were indeed plenty of people who dated solely to get into bed, but there were also responsible people who wanted to fulfill every proper procedure and customary etiquette. Yet because they were too upright—or perhaps had skipped a step—trying to pick up the rhythm again felt awkward. Karen lifted the pig's head, inspected it carefully, and addressed the pig's head directly: "Paul, you could ask her if she'd like to watch the moon by the window in your room." Aunt Mary looked at Karen as though she had seen a ghost, then brought her hand down hard on the pig's head in Karen's grasp. "Did your uncle teach you that?" Karen asked in confusion, "No, why?" "Are you sure?" "Really, no." Aunt Mary huffed. "Sure enough, you Inmerlais men are all cut from the same cloth! That was exactly how your uncle invited me back then—claiming his room was on a high floor and perfect for admiring the moon. "And after admiring the moon, out came Mina, and then came Lunt." "Haha..." Karen couldn't help bursting into laughter. Aunt Mary turned to Paul and said, "Actually, it's quite simple. If she truly likes you, even if you say you're keeping an elephant in your room, she'll 'believe' you and gladly come up to take a look." Paul scratched his head, sounding somewhat unsure. "Really? Would that work?" Aunt Mary gave a cold chuckle. "She's your fiancée. Don't tell me you're afraid she'll call the police to arrest you afterward? What would she say to the officer? 'Officer, my damn fiancé forced me onto the bed!' If even that were against the law, wouldn't all those folks from the Berry religion have to be rounded up and shot?" Karen was tempted to remind his aunt that marital coercion was also unethical and illegal, but on second thought, the laws of this era probably had not advanced to that point yet. Right then, a group of students holding banners walked past the road in front of the house. They were quite young, mostly middle school and high school age. The leading student shouted, "We want environmental protection!" The surrounding students chanted in unison, "We want environmental protection!" "We want fresh air!" "Fresh air!" "We want clear rivers!" "Clear rivers!" Everyone in the courtyard watched the students march past, chanting their slogans. Karen was somewhat surprised that environmental organizations were already so popular in this era. Ron pinched his throat and called out in a low voice: "We want lubi!" Today was not a weekend, so these kids were likely skipping classes. Aunt Mary glanced at Karen and asked, "Karen, did Mina or Lunt mention this to you?" Without waiting for Karen to reply, Aunt Mary answered herself: "Ah, why would the children talk to you about that?" Even though Karen was not much older than Mina, Uncle Mason had remarked that ever since Karen recovered from his illness, he almost felt like calling Karen "Uncle." In truth, the family no longer treated Karen as a child. "What is it, Aunt Mary?" Karen asked. "That environmentalist girl from the Kingdom of Vien arrived in Ruilan the day before yesterday," Aunt Mary said. "The environmentalist girl, Delice?" Karen remembered seeing her name in the newspapers. She was passionate about promoting environmental causes and enjoyed tremendous popularity among Vien's youth. The mayoral race in Rojia City was about to enter its final voting phase. The challenger running against the incumbent mayor campaigned primarily on environmental protection. Judging by the news reports, the young activist's visit to Rojia City was likely intended to rally support for the challenger. Of course, it could also be seen as a celebrity appearance. Paul commented, "Protecting the environment is a good thing, isn't it?" Aunt Mary glared at Paul and pointed mockingly in the direction of the departing students. "What do they know about environmental protection? They just don't want to go to class." ... Karen carried the pig's head to the second-floor kitchen to begin cooking. The staple for lunch today was green bean rice. Since pig's head meat was the main course, Karen added only a small handful of diced meat to the rice. The side dishes consisted of steamed egg custard, fish-fragrant eggplant, and seaweed egg drop soup. In addition, because the family loved spring rolls so much, Karen fried up another batch. Once the dishes were laid out, Diss took the head of the table, while Aunt Mary, Aunt Winnie, Paul, and Ron sat down to eat. Uncle Mason was not home today; he had gone out to treat the official in charge of the Hughes Crematorium auction to lunch, though he had specifically told Karen to save him some food before leaving. The younger cousins were at school today. Cooking for his family gave Karen a profound sense of satisfaction, a simple and fulfilling happiness akin to feeding pigs. Karen walked downstairs and first filled the golden retriever's bowl with dog food. Then he placed a plate of braised assorted small fish in front of Purr, alongside a cup of coffee. The retriever stared at the plate of braised fish before Purr, drool dripping from its mouth, suddenly finding the kibble in its own bowl utterly tasteless. Still, it did not dare contest Purr for food. Purr took a leisurely sip of coffee with immense pleasure before eating the fish unhurriedly. Karen had grown accustomed to this peculiar feline routine. As he walked back upstairs, he happened to bump into Diss coming down. "Lunch was delicious, especially the pig's head meat. Something has come up at the church this afternoon, so I must head over first." "Take care on the road, Grandfather." "Mm." Karen reached the second floor to find Ron and Paul leaning back in their chairs, patting their bellies, while Aunt Mary and Aunt Winnie were sipping tea. "Aunt Mary, Aunt Winnie, drinking tea right after a meal isn't good for digestion," Karen reminded them. "Oh, really?" Aunt Mary hesitated a moment before setting down her teacup. "Karen, aren't you eating?" Aunt Winnie asked. "I filled up while tasting the food." Karen began clearing the dishes. "Let us, let us do that." Aunt Winnie stood up to help clear the table. The telephone on the first floor rang. Aunt Mary went downstairs to answer it, and before long, her voice drifted up from below: "Hans Hospital!" Having spent the morning basking in the sun and just finished a hearty meal, Ron and Paul snapped into work mode at once, hurrying downstairs. Karen set down the plates in his hands, wiped his hands with a damp towel, grabbed his coat, and followed them down. A dispatch usually required three people: his uncle plus the two workers. Whenever his uncle was away, Karen would step in to fill the headcount. Paul went to start the hearse. Ron went to fetch the gurney. Karen gathered up the promotional brochures and price sheets for Inmeles Funeral Parlor. Time was life; time was money. Everyone boarded the vehicle as quickly as possible. The hearse set off, destination: Hans Hospital. ... Hans Hospital was only a fifteen-minute drive from Mink Street. Upon arrival, Paul and Ron stayed in the vehicle to wait, while Karen straightened his collar, tucked the briefcase containing the brochures under his arm, and headed inside. He located the head nurse who served as their contact. She replied: "The patient is in resuscitation. Most likely won't make it." Karen sat on a bench outside the operating theater and waited. On the adjacent bench sat several family members anxiously awaiting the outcome of the rescue. Karen noticed them, but did not approach at this moment. For no other reason than fear of getting beaten up. He sat there quietly with his back straight, looking as though he were waiting for a job interview. In fact, he truly was waiting for an interview. When one worked in this trade long enough, one gradually grew accustomed to it. Some might feel it was inhumane to wait nearby to take an order while a family was anxiously hoping for their loved one's survival... Yet was running a restaurant and slaughtering chickens and sheep any more merciful? It was all the same; life was just like that. A gurney was wheeled in from outside, flanked by two parents who kept encouraging their daughter, who was about to undergo surgery. The operation carried a certain degree of risk. As the gurney passed in front of Karen, the little girl turned her head, looked at him, and offered a shy smile. Though young, people naturally held an instinctive fondness for beautiful things and handsome people. Little boys instinctively wanted to draw close to pretty women, and little girls looked with delight upon handsome young men. Such pure preferences were natural in youth; as people grew older, those inclinations did not vanish, but were merely hidden away. Karen smiled back at the little girl and gave her an encouraging fist pump. The little girl smiled even more brightly. Another half hour passed. The doctor responsible for the "client" Karen was waiting for emerged from the operating theater and pulled down his mask. "The patient has been stabilized!" "Ohhh!" "Thank God! God bless us!" "Mother, my mother! Heavens, heavens..." The client had slipped away from the order. Not a trace of disappointment showed on Karen's face. He stood up and gently stretched his body. Having sat upright for so long, he felt slightly numb. Since he was no longer needed, Karen turned around, preparing to leave quietly. Right at that moment, however, the lights in the hallway suddenly flickered out. "The power is out! The power's out!" "Where's the backup generator?" "Start the backup generator, quick!" The door to the little girl's operating theater was shoved open, and a doctor shouted in exasperation: "Get the power back on! Hurry up and get the power on! The surgery isn't finished!" Chaos rippled through the hospital. Word came that the hospital's backup generator had malfunctioned and could not supply electricity in the short term. Another piece of news spread: Delice, the environmentalist girl, had organized a student march and besieged a thermal power plant. The fiercely devoted students had clashed with the plant's workers, ultimately triggering a power outage. Karen stood in the hallway. He watched the little girl's father pacing anxiously back and forth while nervously signing papers, while the mother sobbed uncontrollably. Doctors bustled in and out of the operating room. From the eyes visible above their masks, Karen could tell the situation was grim. He looked back at the bench where he had sat earlier, then down at the briefcase tucked under his arm. He felt he ought to sit back down and continue waiting, yet something inside him resisted sitting back down at this moment. So he stood there, simply stood there. The planned surgery had run into a massive crisis and turned into an emergency resuscitation. As time ticked away, he watched the vitality drain from the mother's face until her gaze turned hollow and numb. Ignoring the surroundings, the father pulled out a cigarette and tried to light it, but his hands trembled so much that he couldn't get it to catch, and his lighter fell to the floor. Karen stepped forward, took out his own lighter, and lit it for the father. "Thank you, thank you," the father muttered in gratitude. Then, likely out of habitual polite pleasantry, he asked numbly, "What line of work are you in?" "Pharmaceutical representative." "Oh. Oh, right." The father took deep drags on the cigarette, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the doors of the operating room. Finally, the power was restored. Whether the power plant had resumed operation or the hospital's generator had kicked in was unclear. Yet right at that moment, the doctor walked out and faced the little girl's father. "I'm sorry." "No..." The mother fainted on the spot. The father sank to his knees on the cold hallway tiles. Karen walked silently over to the nearby bench and sat down. He had thought that seeing corpses daily at home, and even casually cracking jokes with Aunt Mary while helping out, meant he had grown accustomed to this. In truth, he hadn't. The true essence of life and death lay neither in living nor in dying, nor in the state of either, but in... the process of the transition. Dusk gradually fell. Because of the power outage, all the surgeries scheduled for the afternoon had been canceled. The doctor appeared to recognize Karen's profession, so the little girl's body was not wheeled down to the morgue. The father held the mother in his arms, both wearing expressions of profound grief. Karen remained seated there. The head nurse walked over, first crouching down to comfort the parents, and then pointed toward Karen. Her intentions were kind—at least toward the Inmerlais family, they were. But she assumed Karen, being a "new face" and a "young man," was simply too shy to solicit business on his own, so she took the initiative to introduce him. At that moment, the father rose to his feet and walked over to Karen. Karen looked up, meeting his gaze. "What do you do?" Karen hesitated for a moment before answering, "Inmeles Funeral Parlor..." *Thwack!* A fist struck Karen squarely across the face, knocking him sideways onto the bench. "It's because of you! It's all because of you! You cursed my daughter to death! You cursed my daughter! You demons, you scumbags who make money off filth!" Karen slowly sat back up, wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and straightened his posture, as though he hadn't been the one struck just now. Seeing his calm demeanor, the father's clenched fist relaxed before he could throw a second punch. He turned around and went back to comforting his wife. The sky began to turn dark. Karen remained seated there. When he arrived, it had been for an order, for business, for money. Now, it was no longer about that. It was merely a single order, and given that he had been hit, his family wouldn't blame him in the slightest if he simply walked away. Yet at this moment, the business had transformed into a kind of duty. At last, the father, supporting his wife as she leaned against him, walked up to Karen once more. Karen looked up again, meeting his gaze. "Hey, what did you say you do again?" Karen worked his left cheek, which was still aching, and offered a faint, professional smile. Opening his briefcase, he retrieved a brochure and said: "Inmeles Funeral Parlor. Here to provide the final companionship for your loved one." ... "Young Master, your face?" Paul noticed the bruise on Karen's cheek. "It's nothing." Karen shook his head. Once the hospital paperwork was finished, Paul and Ron loaded the little girl's body into the hearse. Behind them, the parents would drive their own car, following the hearse all the way to Mink Street. They intended to prepare and arrange their daughter's funeral through the night. Only by doing so could they feel as though their daughter was still with them—as if they were taking her to a department store to pick out clothes. Ron glanced at the car the parents were driving and licked his lips. "Look, they're driving a Santland." He had meant to remind the young master that this was a major client, but seeing him sitting there in quiet contemplation, Ron held his tongue. The hearse drove back to the Inmerlais residence on Mink Street, and the Santland behind pulled up alongside it. "Be gentle when you lift her," Karen reminded them. The parents stood beside the hearse, waiting to "receive" their daughter. "Understood, Young Master." Paul and Ron carefully lowered the gurney from the vehicle. As the group went inside, Aunt Mary and Aunt Winnie stepped forward to offer comfort while introducing their services. Karen shielded his cheek with the collar of his coat and headed straight upstairs. He felt somewhat weary and wanted to lie down to rest. He only hoped the parents wouldn't request grief counseling services. "Brother, you're back! You've worked hard!" Mina brought over a glass of iced water for Karen. Her brother disliked black tea and coffee, drinking only water with ice. Instead of entering his room, Karen took the glass first. "Brother, your face?" Attentive as ever, Mina noticed the mark on his cheek. "It's nothing." Karen had no intention of explaining. Just then, the bedroom door opened. His younger cousin Lunt, who shared a room with Karen, walked out clutching an environmental campaign sign, bragging to Karen: "Bro, I went to the environmental march organized by Delice today! Delice is so cool—look, she even gave me her autograph, hehe!" Karen froze. "Bro?" Lunt leaned closer in curiosity, wondering why his brother had suddenly stopped responding. Then, Karen splashed the water from the glass directly onto Lunt's face. *Splash!* Drenched in ice water, Lunt looked at Karen in bewilderment. "Bro... what's wrong...?" *Smack!* This time, it wasn't water. It was a hard slap from Karen. Lunt was knocked to the floor. Clutching his cheek, he stared in disbelief and sheer terror at his brother, who bore a bruise on his own face. At that moment, the door to their grandfather's study opened, and Diss stood in the doorway. Mina immediately helped the softly whimpering Lunt to his feet. "Grandfather, it's nothing, nothing at all! We were just messing around," Mina hastily explained. Diss looked at Karen and asked, "What happened?" Karen met Diss's gaze and replied, "He had it coming." "Oh." Diss nodded, turned around, and walked back into the study. The study door clicked shut behind him. "Brother?" Mina tried calling Karen twice, but seeing no reaction, she led Lunt downstairs to the second floor. "You're grieving," Purr's voice drifted over from the windowsill behind Karen. "Get used to it. Soon you'll realize there's nothing else you can do." Karen shook his head. Purr chuckled. "You disagree with me?" Karen rested his hands against the windowsill behind him and said, "I'll ask Aunt Mary to give them a discount."