The person who does the cooking usually hates clearing the table.
It is much like the joy and satisfaction of feeding small animals, contrasted with the utter dread of cleaning out their pens.
Fortunately, Karen didn't have to clear the dishes; Aunt Winnie and Aunt Mary would take care of the cleanup.
Karen poured himself a glass of water on the second floor, popped two ice cubes into it from the freezer tray, and carried the glass back up to the third floor.
He had intended to take an afternoon nap. Unfortunately, when he pushed open his bedroom door, he found Mina, Sarah, and Lunt huddled together at his desk doing homework.
So much for the nap.
After all, as an adult in mind, he couldn't bring himself to chase away children doing their schoolwork just so he could sleep.
Not only did he lose his nap, but at Mina's request, Karen also helped tutor her and Sarah in their physics homework.
It was evident that Mina's academic performance was quite good. No wonder Aunt Mary didn't want Mina staying behind to take over the family trade. Purely from a financial standpoint, inheriting her mother's skills as a mortuary makeup artist would certainly ensure a comfortable living, but in life, when conditions allow, one ought to strive for more choices.
Sarah, on the other hand, had rather ordinary grades and average comprehension.
Karen also noticed Sarah's clothes. They were quite new—so new that they didn't fit properly.
That detail struck a chord with him. In his past life, when his family's circumstances had been modest during his childhood, he too had owned a special set of clothes reserved only for visiting relatives.
At the same time, Sarah's stationery was visibly far inferior to what Mina and Lunt used.
Moreover, whenever Karen spoke, Sarah would immediately shift her body to face him directly.
Ordinarily, a shy little girl wouldn't suddenly become so extroverted as to actively seek eye contact. As he went over the problems with her, Karen realized it was because Sarah had trouble hearing with her right ear. If you spoke too softly on her right side, she couldn't hear clearly, so whenever she realized he was talking, she had to turn her head.
Once the tutoring was done, Karen stretched his arms and leaned back against the headboard of the bed.
"Are you tired, Karen?" Mina asked.
"A little."
Mina stood up, walked over, and began massaging Karen's shoulders.
Sarah was somewhat timid at first, but she also walked over and started kneading Karen's legs.
Watching this from the side, Lunt merely chuckled. Even though his older cousin had slapped him across the face not long ago, he harbored no real resentment toward Karen, nor did he feel any jealousy.
Much like his father, he didn't really think of Karen as a brother—he felt more like an elder uncle.
"Hey, there's no need..."
Karen didn't want to indulge in this "feudal lord" comfort. If his younger cousins had been a bit younger, he wouldn't have minded bribing them with pocket change or candy to run errands or beat his legs—most people had done something similar in their lives. But now his little cousin was older, and there was an unfamiliar female classmate present.
Yet to Karen's surprise, Sarah's technique was remarkably skilled, and her pressure was just right. For a moment, Karen found himself reluctant to call a halt.
In the end, rationality prevailed. Karen sat back up and said, "Mina, Sarah, you're growing up now. You're young ladies. You should remember to keep your distance from the opposite sex."
"But you're not an outsider, Karen," Mina said as if it were obvious.
Even Sarah nodded in agreement.
"Still, it's inappropriate." Karen reached out and patted Mina's head. "I don't like it."
Sarah watched Mina getting her head patted, an envious look surfacing in her eyes.
Karen reached out and patted her head as well.
Just as men had little resistance to beautiful women, women had little resistance to handsome men. That sort of effortless charm with the opposite sex felt like striking gold to an ordinary person, but to a select few, it was like cabbages growing by the roadside—ready to be picked wherever they went.
It was just that most people had no way to relate.
"Sarah, do you usually knead legs for your family at home?" Karen asked curiously.
"Yes, I knead my father's legs every day."
"You're a very filial daughter."
Karen stepped out of the bedroom and stopped by the bay window. He pushed the window open, causing Purr, who had been napping there, to shift unhappily a few times.
Pulling out a cigarette, Karen lit one for himself. The wind outside carried a chill, so he turned sideways to minimize his exposure to the breeze.
Just then, Diss emerged from the study. Karen smiled.
"The thermos is empty," Diss said.
Karen immediately called into the bedroom, "Mina, go refill the hot water for Grandpa."
"Okay!"
Obediently coming out, Mina took the thermos from her grandfather and headed downstairs to the kitchen to fetch hot water.
Diss voiced no objection to Karen's "laziness," instead asking, "Today is the fifteenth."
"Yes. Their booking was through the seventeenth. Two days left. In fact, there's only one day left," Karen said. The seventeenth was the final deadline, which would definitely be the memorial service. The other party would have to deliver the deceased by the sixteenth—tomorrow—at the latest, or there wouldn't even be enough time to apply the mortuary makeup.
If they brought the body during the day on the seventeenth, even in the morning, holding the memorial service smoothly would be nearly impossible—unless they merely wanted to go through the motions. The issue was that they had paid far too much.
A client who spent so generously would certainly not want a slipshod funeral.
"Uncle Mason has already accepted a welfare case, scheduled for the eighteenth."
This was in case the other party delivered the body on the seventeenth or eighteenth. A welfare case offered much more flexibility. Just like with Jeff last time, it was simply a matter of snapping three photographs; scheduling it on that day was meant to give them leverage to renegotiate once the "deadline" passed.
Of course, if the client really arrived a day or two late, they would still accommodate them out of consideration for the deposit, but the family would have far more leeway regarding requirements and details.
"Mm." Diss nodded. Taking the refilled thermos from Mina, he returned to the study.
By this time, Karen noticed rain had begun falling outside. He snubbed out his cigarette against the windowsill.
Purr glared at the tiny black scorch mark left on her favorite sleeping spot and pointed at it with a paw, thoroughly disgruntled:
"Meow! Meow! Meow!"
Karen reached out and petted Purr as though she were an ordinary cat.
"Karen, I'm heading home," Sarah said, stepping out with her schoolbag slung over her shoulder to say goodbye.
"Is someone picking you up?" Karen asked.
"I'm taking the tram back," Sarah replied.
The tram stop was outside Mink Street, requiring quite a walk.
"I'll walk Sarah to the stop," Mina said, grabbing an umbrella.
"Where do you live, Sarah?"
"On Mine Street in the East District."
The East District was Rojia City's industrial area. Aside from factories, it consisted of rows upon rows of old-style worker dormitories. Living in those tenement buildings was considered decent; many workers, along with the later influx of migrants, could only build shacks around the dormitories, forming sprawling shantytowns.
A few years ago, the old mayor had launched an initiative to improve living conditions in the East District's slums. Of course, he didn't have the means or ability to carry out any grand slum-redevelopment project, but he had successfully hooked up running water and electricity, providing the residents with basic living security.
Mine Street was a well-known neighborhood in the East District made up of these shantytowns. It had plenty of small shops and had given rise to a flea market famous throughout Rojia City.
"How about this: I'll drive you back. Mina, go get the car keys from your dad."
"Yay! Thanks, Karen!"
Before long, Mina returned with Uncle Mason's car keys.
"Dad asked if you know how to drive, Karen, and Mom said you drive very well."
Aunt Mary was referring to the time she and Mrs. Hughes had gotten drunk and he drove them home.
"Get in."
It was Karen's first time sitting inside the new hearse. Not only was the driver's seat far more spacious, but the rear featured a rectangular recess designed for caskets, flanked by seats resembling those on a bus.
Starting the engine, Karen set off toward Mine Street.
Because the previous "Karen" had loved visiting the flea market to buy second-hand comic books and novels, he knew the way.
"Hehe, Sarah, isn't our car roomy?" Mina asked.
"Yeah!" Sarah nodded. "You could even lie down and sleep in it."
At the wheel, Karen chuckled at that.
"Haha, you definitely don't want to lie down in this car."
Halfway there, they encountered road construction on one of the streets, forcing Karen to back out and take a detour. Reversing took quite a while, as the new hearse was quite large and not particularly nimble to maneuver.
By the time they reached Mine Street, it was already five in the afternoon.
"Mom!" Sarah spotted her mother's figure.
Karen found an open patch of ground nearby and pulled over.
Mina followed Sarah out of the car.
A moment later, Mina and Sarah came to the driver's window.
"Karen, Sarah's mom invited us to their house as guests!"
"Yes, Karen, my mom makes wonderful milk tea!"
Karen had intended to decline; he preferred driving straight home. But seeing the hopeful look in Sarah's eyes and the somewhat timid, uneasy woman standing not far away, he nodded.
"All right."
...
Sarah's home was deep inside Mine Street. Because it had just rained, the path was filled with puddles, some with bricks laid in the middle that one had to step on to cross.
The eaves were very low, requiring them to stoop to enter. Inside were two rooms: one for Sarah's parents, and the other for Sarah and her grandmother.
The cooking area was outside, consisting of a small brick stove semi-sheltered by a sheet of iron.
The inside of the house was very clean, decorated with a few bouquets of wild flowers.
"Grandma, I brought my classmate and her brother over to visit!"
"Good, good, that's wonderful."
The grandmother was elderly, but her hair was combed meticulously. Sitting there, she smiled warmly at Mina and Karen.
"Oh? Sarah brought a classmate home?"
A man's voice came from outside. He hobbled in on a crutch. He had been holding a half-smoked cigarette, but catching sight of Mina and Karen as he crossed the threshold, he tossed it outside.
"Hello, Uncle," Mina greeted him.
"Hello, hello, young lady."
"Hello, I'm Mina's older cousin, Karen."
Karen extended his hand to the man. It was an unbreakable habit of his; he had never viewed himself as a child, and since his family had grown accustomed to it, he didn't need to put on an act.
The man froze for a moment, then reached out to shake Karen's hand.
"Hello. You can call me Roth. The neighbors all call me Lame Roth."
Roth's hand was rough and heavily calloused. The other pant leg beneath his crutch hung empty.
When entering, Karen had noticed several tires, sliced strips of tire rubber, and simple tools in the yard. Roth made a living by crafting "slippers" from scrap tires to sell.
As for Sarah's mother, according to what Sarah had said in the car, she worked at a nearby cotton textile mill, though it was currently the slow season, so there weren't many shifts.
"Please, sit, sit."
Sarah brought over a few stools, and Karen and Mina sat down.
"Honey, I smell something delicious! Are you making milk tea?" Roth called out toward the exterior in an exaggerated tone.
"Yes, it's ready!"
Shortly after, Sarah's mother carried in several cups on a pot lid. The cups were filled with white milk tea.
The cups placed before Karen and Mina were filled to the brim; those before the grandmother and Sarah were half full; and the one before Roth had only a shallow layer at the bottom.
Sarah's mother smiled and said, "I'll go prepare dinner. Sarah just told me how your family treated her to such a lavish meal today. Thank you so much."
"Yes, Mom, Karen's cooking is amazing! He made food I've never tasted before, but I think your cooking is just as good as his!"
Sarah's mother lowered her head, kissed Sarah on the forehead, and smiled. "Don't worry, Mom won't let you down."
Then, as if worried Karen might refuse to stay for dinner, she added, "Please do us the honor of staying for a meal, as our way of returning the hospitality you showed Sarah."
Roth chimed in, "Of course! That's what classmates and friends do—you come to my home today and have a hot meal, and tomorrow I go to yours and have a hot meal. Isn't that right, Mr. Karen?"
Even though Roth saw that this young man was quite youthful, Karen's demeanor was distinguished, reminiscent of the civil servants sitting in government offices. Unconsciously, Roth added "Mr." to the address.
"Then I'll look forward to it."
Mina lifted her cup and took a sip of the milk tea.
"How is it, Mina?" Sarah asked.
"It's delicious," Mina said.
Karen raised his cup and took a sip, then instinctively suppressed the urge to frown. The drink tasted very much like the malted milk extract from his childhood, and extra sugar had been added, making it cloyingly sweet.
Karen took two more large gulps, set down the cup, and smiled. "Very good."
"Hahaha, see?"
Roth looked delighted. Raising his cup, he drank his small portion clean, holding the cup to his mouth a little longer than necessary. When he set it down, white residue coated his lips, which he licked away.
"Have a smoke, Uncle."
Karen pulled out his cigarette case.
In truth, his craving wasn't strong these days—only two or three cigarettes a day. Aside from that, his duties sometimes overlapped with his uncle's, which meant carrying cigarettes was a social necessity.
Morf Gold Frame, seventy lubi a pack, even pricier than the soft-pack Chunghwa from his past life.
Karen pulled out a cigarette and offered it to Roth, who accepted it with both hands.
Just as Karen took out his lighter to light it for him, Roth glanced at his mother sitting nearby.
The old grandmother smiled and said, "Go ahead and smoke. Keep Mr. Karen good company."
Karen caught the hint and offered, "Let's smoke outside."
"Right, right."
Karen went to hand Roth his crutch, but Roth beat him to it, grabbing it himself to push himself up. "This way, please."
The two stepped outside.
Roth fished a match from his pocket, struck it, shielded the flame with his left hand, and brought it toward Karen.
One couldn't decline this, as a match went out quickly.
Karen gave an apologetic smile, put a cigarette between his lips, and leaned in. Once Karen's cigarette was lit, Roth brought the match—which had nearly burned down to his fingers—to his own cigarette, lit it, and immediately flicked the match away, letting out a sharp hiss from the heat.
"Mr. Karen, does your family run a funeral parlor?" Roth added, "Mina mentioned it."
"Yes, Uncle Roth." Karen pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to Roth. "We'll have to trouble you to send business our way in the future."
"Ah, when folks living around here pass away, they're hauled straight to the crematorium. Who can afford a memorial service?"
Even so, after taking the card, Roth carefully tucked it into his breast pocket.
"Is business good these days?" Roth asked.
It seemed that regardless of the background, setting, or social standing, once two men lit cigarettes together, the conversation almost invariably circled back to: *How's business lately?* or *How've things been going?*
"Not very busy," Karen replied.
After all, that client who had paid a hundred thousand lubi deposit still hadn't sent word, and the family couldn't take on other jobs in the meantime, so they were quite free.
"Yeah, same here," Roth agreed with a nod.
During the summer, his tire-rubber slippers sold decently. There was a demographic that appreciated such dirt-cheap footwear. But now that winter had arrived, naturally fewer people bought slippers.
"Things will pick up," Karen said. "In business, there are always slow seasons and peak seasons."
Roth nodded in deep agreement. "Yes, yes, Mr. Karen is quite right. Everything will turn around."
Roth thoroughly enjoyed chatting like this. Even though his tire slippers only sold for two lubi a pair during peak season, and he knew a single job from Karen's family parlor could equal what he earned in a year—or far more—he truly relished the atmosphere of standing beside Karen and discussing "slow seasons and peak seasons."
*Look at us—we're both businessmen.*
Halfway through his cigarette, Karen instinctively moved to drop it on the ground, but after a second thought, he kept it between his fingers.
Roth smoked his until it nearly burned down to the filter, took one last deep drag, and only then dropped it to the ground. Karen followed suit and dropped his as well.
Roth was an old smoker. Smacking his lips, he reached for his own pack, paused briefly upon pulling it out, but took it out anyway: a two-lubi pack of "Wild Wolf."
He pulled out a cigarette and offered it to Karen. Karen accepted it and flicked his lighter to light Roth's cigarette. Only then did Roth smile.
Smoking his own brand, he seemed to shed the restraint he had felt while smoking the Morf Gold Frame.
Roth said, "I lost this leg in an accident back when I was working at the factory. Back then, the plant only paid a tiny sum in compensation, not even enough for medical bills. In the end, we had to seek help from Mr. Sixen. Do you know Mr. Sixen?"
"I think I've heard the name..." Karen recalled the newspapers. "The mayor."
"Yes, the mayor! He used to be a councilman who came out of our East District. He's the pride of the East District, one of our own!" Roth heaped praise upon praise on the old mayor, especially the phrase "one of our own."
"Mr. Sixen went to the factory owner on my behalf, and only then did the owner pay out another sum. It wasn't much, but I was satisfied. At least it covered the medical bills with a little left over.
"*Sigh*...
"A few days ago, several other coworkers who fell ill took their case to court at City Hall and lost. The union organized a protest and notified me, so I joined in. Even though I don't work in the factory anymore, I'm still a union member.
"Mr. Karen, sometimes with those factory owners, you have to show them the power of our unity. Otherwise... otherwise they really won't treat us like human beings."
"Yes, you're right."
"I was even chosen as one of the protest representatives, marching in the front row alongside the injured, disabled, and sick workers. I thought the march was meant to show those East District factory owners our strength, but to my surprise, the banners and flags the union folks pulled out were actually holding Mr. Sixen accountable!
"A lot of workers weren't happy about that.
"Fair's fair—wasn't it Mr. Sixen who brought running water and electricity to Mine Street a few years back? I hear he's planning a sewage project next year so we won't have to 'dance' across the mud on rainy days.
"Then Mr. Sixen came out to soothe us. The moment he appeared, we stopped making a fuss. A few union folks still tried to lead us in chanting slogans, but none of us paid them any mind.
"Mr. Sixen promised us that in the future, a dedicated portion of the East District's tax revenue would be allocated to pay allowances to workers with disabilities and permanent chronic illnesses. It won't be a huge sum, but we're already satisfied.
"Which means starting next month, I'll receive an allowance of two hundred lubi every month.
"After that, we all chanted Mr. Sixen's name together."
As Roth spoke, his eyes shone with light.
"Mr. Sixen will always be one of our East District's own, the mayor our East District put forward. Haha."
Karen nodded.
"Do you have a preferred candidate for mayor, Mr. Karen?"
"No, I don't. I'm not very keen on getting involved in politics."
"I'm not keen on it either—if only those factory owners would treat us workers with a shred of decency."
Roth took a deep drag and blew out a smoke ring.
"Who wants to drag their exhausted body to listen to election speeches after working all day?"
"Indeed," Karen agreed.
"Dinner is ready, Dad, Karen!" Sarah called out.
"All right! Let's see what delicious food your dear mother has prepared for us tonight."
Dinner was bountiful.
Everyone had a plate of noodles resembling braised noodles in front of them, tossed with various vegetables and sauce. The plates for Karen and Mina contained clearly visible diced meat, while the others' did not.
In addition, everyone had a serving of bread. Karen and Mina were given bread with cream, while the others had black bread.
Aside from that, there was a small plate of smoked bacon, a small plate of sausages, and a large bowl of pickled cucumbers.
The plates of bacon and sausage were placed right in front of Karen and Mina, while the pickled cucumbers sat on the family's side.
"Mom, where's the fried chicken?" Sarah asked curiously.
She had wanted to treat her good friend and her brother to fried chicken.
Sarah's mother smiled. "I'm sorry, Sarah, they were sold out today."
Sarah looked at Mina with slight disappointment. "What a pity. That meat is so savory! Next time I'll invite you over to eat it."
"Sure!" Mina nodded with a smile.
Yet in the memories of the previous "Karen," he had seen several stalls selling fried chicken at the flea market. Out of curiosity, he had bought some to try, and it tasted good. But after later learning that the meat was salvaged from restaurant scraps and garbage piles and refried in oil, "Karen" had spent half the night vomiting when he returned home, running a fever the next day.
So the "fried chicken" Sarah spoke of was likely that kind of meat—just like the tire slippers Roth made, popular and circulated only in the East District's Mine Street.
Sarah's mother had lied about it being sold out because she didn't want to serve stale, unwholesome food to guests.
Everyone began eating.
The noodles, similar to braised noodles, were genuinely delicious. The sauce was well-seasoned, and the noodles had a satisfying chew—it was immensely satisfying, and would have paired wonderfully with some garlic.
Without garlic... pickled cucumbers?
Karen leaned forward slightly, took a pickled cucumber, and took a bite.
*Whew...* The crisp sourness was intense! He quickly took a mouthful of noodles to balance it out, creating a unique sense of satisfaction and delight.
"Do you drink, Mr. Karen?" Roth asked.
"No, I drove here."
Roth looked somewhat puzzled. "You can't drink if you drive?"
Seeing that Karen truly didn't want any, he didn't open the bottle. Noticing that Karen enjoyed the pickled cucumbers, he moved the bowl in front of him.
After finishing the noodles, Karen picked up the bread and dipped it in the remaining sauce before eating it.
In truth, the bread with cream was far less appealing; in Karen's culinary worldview, mixing fruit or cream into a savory main meal ruined the dining experience.
Desserts were another matter entirely.
His plate was clean.
Karen raised a hand to stop Sarah's mother from using a fork to give him more bacon and sausage. Patting his belly, he smiled. "I really can't eat another bite. I'm stuffed."
The grandmother chuckled. "You must eat until you're full, don't be shy!"
"I'm not being polite at all. It was genuinely delicious." Karen wasn't just being polite.
A cook's true skill was reflected in coaxing exquisite flavor out of simple ingredients. Sarah's mother was indeed quite skilled.
Mina finished eating as well. She also patted her belly and said to Sarah, "Sarah, your mom's cooking is just as good as Karen's!"
"Hehe, see?" Sarah beamed, looking at her mother.
By the time dinner was finished, the sky had turned pitch-black.
Karen and Mina bade farewell to Roth's family.
The grandmother stood up and offered, "Come, let's see our guests off. They brought Sarah all the way home, after all."
The grandmother had difficulty moving and needed Sarah to support her, while Roth hobbled along on his crutch. Still, the entire family escorted Karen all the way to where the car was parked.
"Thank you for the hospitality," Karen said, thanking Roth's family. He also said to Sarah, "Come over to play with Mina often."
"You come by as well," the grandmother said with a smile.
Karen climbed into the driver's seat. Just as he started the engine, Sarah's mother passed a plastic jar through the window. Karen glanced over and saw that it was completely filled with pickled cucumbers.
"You seemed to enjoy these. Take them home and share them with your family."
"Thank you, ma'am."
Karen thanked her without refusing and accepted the jar.
Standing nearby, Roth nudged his wife gently and whispered in mimicry of Karen's tone: "'Thank you, ma'am!' Hehe, 'ma'am,' did you hear that? He called you 'ma'am'!"
Sarah's mother blushed, ignoring her husband.
"Goodbye, everyone!" Mina called out through the car window.
"Goodbye!"
Karen accelerated the hearse, driving toward the end of the street.
Behind the car, Roth's family remained standing there, watching them leave.
Karen glanced into the rearview mirror.
Under the dim, sparse streetlights of Mine Street,
Roth's family standing together
resembled a still, vintage photograph,
slowly yellowing with time.
Chapter 36