After she finished in the Farewell Hall and returned to the office, Madam Raven discovered that Rae Bennett's sleeve was torn, and there were bloodstains on the fabric, already dried.
"What happened to your hand?"
"Hand?" Rae Bennett raised her arm to look it over.
Madam Raven quickly grabbed her left hand, examining it closely: "The inside of your clothes is soaked red, how did you bleed so much?"
She saw the wound, frowning: "Must have accidentally hit something."
Madam Raven's temper, which had barely calmed down, flared up again: "It must have been that mom who pushed you earlier." Thinking about it made her angry, "What a prejudiced ghost."
Isn't that the truth.
So many people treat bad luck and misfortune like a contagious disease, with the source of infection being ordinary people who work in the funeral industry like them.
Madam Raven stood up to get the first aid kit: "Let me help you with that."
Rae sat down obediently on a stool: "Thank you, Madam Raven."
Madam Raven had two "Divine Beasts" at home, both boys, each more mischievous than the other. She dreamed of having an obedient daughter like Rae. Among all the girls in the Mortuary Cosmetology Team, her favorite was Rae Bennett.
At this moment, Madam Raven's maternal instincts surged, full of concern: "Doesn't it hurt? You didn't even realize you were injured."
Rae shook her head, her eyes misty, the very picture of a well-behaved girl who seemed to be putting on a brave and bold front despite being wronged, yet still actively faced life: "It doesn't hurt, not at all."
See, she swallowed all the pain and suffering herself. Madam Raven felt even more distressed: "You're young, why put on a brave face? If it hurts, cry out, don't hold it in."
Rae's eyelids drooped, and the corners of her eyes turned red in an instant.
She genuinely didn't feel pain; her nerves had been damaged, dulling her sense of pain much more than the average person. But over the years, she had realized a truth: the weak always receive sympathy, while the strong often face jealousy. Especially for women, showing vulnerability, if used well, could be a trump card.
Before five o'clock, the sky had darkened ominously, a sign of impending heavy rain, and the lights in the women's restroom had already switched on.
Someone was making a phone call in a stall: "Didn't you say you might get a promotion at the end of the month? Don't take leave now, to avoid upsetting your boss."
The speaker was none other than the woman who treated embalmers as filthy things.
"None of those from your aunt's family came either, so what's the harm?"
"I had your dad take Sweetheart back; he's lost his mind, bringing a child so young to a place like this. Today, he almost touched something unclean."
Drip, drip.
The woman suddenly fell silent, listening intently. There was a sound outside, like the click of high heels.
The person on the other end of the phone asked her twice if she was going to hold a Memorial Service, but when he didn't get a reply, he called out loudly to her.
"Huh?" The woman in the stall came back to her senses.
The caller asked what was wrong.
"Nothing, someone must have come by, I heard some noise." She stood up, straightening her clothes, and continued, "No Memorial Service, we'll cremate tomorrow and then take the ashes back to the hometown for burial."
Her son on the phone began to ask about the ashes.
"Keeping ashes in the columbarium is too expensive, and your uncles aren't willing to spend that kind of money either."
Outside the stall, the sound of high heels got closer, accompanied by the noise of metal scraping the floor. The thought that she was in a funeral home sent chills down the woman's spine. She hung up the phone, was about to flush the toilet, when suddenly a song started playing outside.
It was a nursery rhyme.
A girl's voice, ethereal and clear, sang slowly and leisurely: "The big rabbit was sick, the second rabbit looked."
The woman was startled: "Who's out there?"
The voice outside continued to sing, phrase by phrase, unhurried: "The third rabbit bought medicine, the fourth rabbit boiled."
There was a plop, the woman's hands went limp, and the phone dropped into the toilet. Her scalp tingling, she didn't care about her phone, and scrambled to open the door.
Just then, an iron rod was slid through the middle of the restroom stall's door handle, anchoring it to the handle of the stall next door.
No matter how hard the woman tried, she couldn't open the door. She beat on it with her hands, yelling in terror, "Who's out there?"
"Who!"
Who?
A fairy, of course.
"The fifth rabbit died, the sixth rabbit carried, the seventh rabbit dug a hole, the eighth buried."
The woman sat down hard on the toilet, legs trembling: "Who... who's out there!"
The fairy pressed her face against the door, telling her softly, tenderly, "It's a ghost."
"Ah ah ah ah ah—"
Such a piercing scream.
In the midst of the scream, there was also a pleasant singing voice: "Nine little rabbits sat on the ground and cried, Ten little rabbits asked why they mourn. Nine little rabbits said: 'Five went away and never returned.'"
The woman couldn't see outside the partition, just the shimmering silver high heels and a pair of fair, slender ankles. The owner of the ankles walked up to the faucet, turned on the water to wash hands, and leisurely sang the nursery rhyme: "Big rabbit's sick, Second goes to look, Third buys medicine, Fourth cooks it up, Fifth rabbit died, Sixth carries them away."
"Ah ah ah ah ah—"
Ah, so noisy.
Would the over a hundred corpses in the Frozen Area be woken up by the noise? Rae Bennett turned off the water and smiled as she walked out of the washroom.
Inside the women's toilet, the woman was still screaming, her voice hoarse with exertion.
"Seven rabbits dig a hole, Eight rabbits bury, Nine little rabbits sat on the ground and cried..."
The nursery rhyme was sung more and more cheerfully, and the voice also grew more distant.
Madam Raven had just finished handing over work and returned when she saw Rae Bennett humming a tune as she walked in.
"Got some good news?"
Rae just smiled and asked Madam Raven, "Does my voice sound scary?"
"How could it? It's so sweet." Madam Raven really liked the young girl's voice—it sounded sweet and obedient.
Hearing the compliment, Rae Bennett smiled sweetly, with a bit of bashfulness from being praised.
As Madam Raven changed her coat: "Are you wearing high heels today?" She hadn't noticed in the morning.
Rae Bennett didn't often wear high heels to work.
She was different today, in a very good mood and especially giggly: "Mhm, going to meet a young man."
Madam Raven couldn't help but sigh: Youth is wonderful.
By this time, the Mortuary Cosmetology Team had finished work for the day, but Piper Harmon was still at the Mourning Hall reception desk. Rae Bennett passed through the main hall on her way out.
Piper Harmon called out to her: "Rae."
"Hmm?"
"Did you hear anything?"
Rae Bennett stopped and listened: "What kind of noise?"
Piper Harmon pointed toward the direction of the women's restroom: "It sounds like someone is screaming over there."
Rae Bennett said, "A corpse was just brought in; must be the family mourning."
Indeed, there was a family crying. What the funeral home had in abundance were cries and screams. So, who would bother about a 'ghost sighting' in the restroom?
Bad omen, right?
Then let the bad omen be the end of you.
She started humming the nursery rhyme again, her voice cheerful. The pink tweed skirt swayed gently, and the silver high heels shimmered beautifully. Only when she saw the box of band-aids on the electric scooter did her singing stop.
She looked at the words on the paper, frowning: "Why is he so difficult to deal with?"
Not even a phone call.
Just feeling frustrated for a moment, her mood cleared up again, and she held up the box of band-aids, squinting at the faint light coming through the tree gaps to look over and over. Then she took the piece of paper and stared at the three words he wrote, examining them closely. After having her fill, she took out a small pair of scissors hanging on her keychain from her bag, cut out the words along his handwriting, discarded the rest, and kept his three words inside the box of band-aids, tucking it all into her mundane yet ruby-studded bag.
She loved gems, and of all the gems, rubies were her favorite.
Wyatt Wright was the most beautiful of them, intense and lovely.
The pink electric scooter weaved through the greenery, the girl's pearl earrings lifted by the wind, and the song drifted slowly again: "Big rabbit's sick, Second goes to look, Third buys medicine, Fourth cooks it up, Fifth rabbit died, Sixth carries them away, Seventh digs a hole, Eighth does the burying..."
*****
Boom!
The wind roared fiercely, and rain poured down in torrents.
It was past ten o'clock; the normally bustling pedestrian street was eerily deserted tonight, with thunder cracking endlessly, and lightning so bright the street lights dimmed in comparison. From an old residential area in the distance, a child's hysterical cries cut through the night.
The rain intensified, turning the city upside down, and people's actions contorted human nature.
"Don't come any closer."
In the sound of the rain, the girl's voice trembled with fear.