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The staff at the funeral home all wore uniforms, with different nameplates on their chests indicating their respective departments. Rae Bennett's nameplate read "Cosmetic Group."
Madam Raven usually had a good temper, but even she couldn't stand it anymore, "How can you be so heartless and ungrateful? When your son fell, my colleague kindly went over to help, and not only do you not thank her, but you're also here spouting nonsense."
Ghosts don't talk; it's the people who do.
The woman scooped up her son in her arms and gave Rae a sidelong glance, "Who needs her help, it's bad luck."
It was simply unreasonable. Madam Raven's face turned red with anger, "You—"
Rae stepped forward and pulled on her, shaking her head, "Let it go."
The woman carried the child away, dusting off his clothes as if they'd touched something dirty, repeating several times, "The child bears no malice, do not take offense or linger."
Did they look like ghosts?
Madam Raven was at a loss for words, "What era are we in, to still have job prejudice?" She turned around to ask Rae, "You're not hurt, are you?"
She smiled, "I'm fine."
At the entrance of the Mourning Hall.
Miss Watson was halfway through speaking when she noticed her eldest son had drifted off.
"Wyatt."
To Miss Watson, the eldest son was a treasure; she would call him tenderly ten times, and Wyatt would probably respond once.
Wyatt responded, "Hmm?"
"Your dad and I will take care of the matters later; you and your brother head back first," she said.
Khalil Wright was very filial, and even had an auspicious time calculated for the cremation, scheduling it for ten o'clock in the morning. The old man didn't have many friends or relatives, so there wouldn't be a Memorial Service.
Miss Watson glanced at her second son and specifically exhorted, "Especially you, get back to your classes right away."
Levi Wright had not yet graduated and studied Business Administration in Osla as a junior. Ardale was neighboring Osla, only a two-hour drive away.
He held out his hand, "For some living expenses."
Indeed, he was the poorest rich second generation,
I forgot to introduce, his mother, Miss Watson, owns a thirty-three story fully furnished building in Ardale's most prosperous residential area, a real landlady through and through.
The landlady taught him from a young age not to be extravagant and dissolute.
"Didn't I give you your allowance for this week?"
"Spent it on a cab." And on game skins—expensive, with four small accounts to fund.
Suddenly, Miss Watson sighed, "Ah, the wind is strong, it made my ear twitch."
Levi: "..."
Had it not been for his own face, he would have doubted he was even her son.
The landlady who had her ear twitched turned back to ask her elder son, "Wyatt, is the new car running smoothly? Do you need Mom to buy you another one?"
Wyatt said it ran very smoothly.
Levi: "..."
Levi once asked Miss Watson, they were both her sons, why was there such a big difference.
At that time, Miss Watson had replied, "Because I'm a sucker for a pretty face."
So it was his fault for being ugly, for looking too much like his mother.
Actually, it wasn't that he was ugly; he bore a striking resemblance to a celebrity known for their beauty—except that the celebrity was a woman.
At sixteen, he rebelled, shaved his head, tattooed his body, and walked down the path of an ostensibly tough guy. Now, the tattoo was still there, on his shoulder—a dragon that stretched half the length of his arm. It was popular at the moment, but now it was just embarrassing, both tacky and immature.
Miss Watson wasn't exactly stingy in all aspects, at least she loved buying him clothes and shoes, hauling them home by the boxful. However, Levi couldn't compliment his mother's taste in fashion—it was either pink, light blue, light green, or white.
"I'll go check if the cremation is done yet—" Immediately, Miss Watson slapped her mouth, "Ptui, ptui, ptui, I misspoke." She advised Wyatt, "You haven't slept much all night, drive slowly, and if you're tired, get a designated driver."
"Okay."
Miss Watson left to find her husband.
Once she was far enough away, Levi said, "Bro."
Wyatt tossed his phone to him.
Levi skillfully unlocked it, opened Whatsapp, and transferred twenty thousand to his own secondary account. Life was hard, and he relied on his elder brother's support.
The brothers walked towards the parking lot.
Suddenly, Wyatt stopped and took back his phone, "You go wait in the car."
Levi asked, "Where are you going?"
He said, "The restroom."
Levi went ahead to look for the car. His brother's car was easy to find, a very flashy model his mother had bought.
The restroom was located to the right, straight down the path in front of the Mourning Hall, but Wyatt went straight left instead. He walked up to the stainless steel guardrail, extended his hand and touched with his index finger the blood that was on it.
Both the Mourning Hall and the Farewell Hall had information desks.
Piper Harmon had worked the night shift as a favor for a colleague and she was still on duty during the day. Not many came for consultation, so she was slacking off.
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