13 Mink Street

Chapter 9 This chapter is very exciting

When it comes to "equality for all," the hearse of the Immeles family takes it to the extreme:

Riding in this car was excruciating for both the living and the dead.

Ron had long since grown accustomed to it, his head resting against the corner of the car, his feet turned outwards.

This position seemed awkward for a portly man, but it ensured maximum stability, and he even managed to snore.

Karen, on the other hand, found it rather agonizing, constantly needing to brace himself against the floor. The road was fine in the city, but once outside the city and into the suburbs, the conditions deteriorated considerably, and the bumps were excruciating.

Jeff and Mr. Mosan embraced shamelessly amidst the constant jolting, their posture like lovers sharing their hearts in bed.

Unable to bear the sight, Karen repeatedly tried to pull the two apart, but the car's space was limited. The two, having just been pulled apart, would quickly find each other again amidst the bumps and jolts, then embrace each other once more.

If there had been relatives accompanying the car, this wouldn't have happened. At the very least, they would have only had to endure limited vibrations within the coffin.

But it was Jeff himself who was alone and had landed on welfare; and Mr. Mossang wasn't on welfare, but he was better than it was.

Karen had no right to criticize his family's "work attitude." Even though he'd cooked lunch today, he was still essentially a "lazy person" in this family.

Finally,

Uncle Mason turned the steering wheel left, and the hearse drove into a yard resembling a small factory. A sign hung at the door: Hughes Crematorium.

"Hey, Ron, wake up!" Uncle Mason called, knocking on the car window.

"Oh, oh, we're here," Ron wiped his saliva and stretched. Karen helped lower the stretcher first, then, along with Ron, helped lift Jeff and then Mr. Mosan down, while Uncle Mason held the stretcher steady.

Just then, a middle-aged woman in gray work clothes approached, holding a pen and paper.

"Wow, what a handsome young man!"

The woman stared at Karen.

"Mrs. Hughes, hello," Ron greeted warmly.

Is this the Mrs. Hughes Paul had mentioned, the one who preferred Ron?

However, in response to Ron's enthusiasm, Mrs. Hughes merely twitched a little, turning her attention to Karen.

Mrs. Hughes was actually quite good-looking. Even in her work clothes, her voluptuous figure was still visible, and her skin was very fair.

However, when Mrs. Hughes's hand pinched his cheek, Karen still reached out and removed her hand somewhat awkwardly;

After all, while he could handle the beauty of this body, he couldn't handle being teased like a little boy.

But Mrs. Hughes simply grabbed Karen's hand, her fingertips swiping back and forth across his palm, her teasing intent clear.

In her gaze, Karen read the same greed that older men have for young women.

"He's Karen, my brother's son." Uncle Mason handed him a cigarette.

"Oh?" Mrs. Hughes was surprised. "Your nephew?"

Mrs. Hughes took the cigarette and asked Mason to light it for her. She continued, "I've never met him before."

"A friend had a family matter, and I'm injured," Uncle Mason explained.

"Injured?"

"I just fell down accidentally."

"Whose windowsill did you fall on?"

"Don't be ridiculous. By the way, aren't you busy today?"

"There's another one up ahead, they're heating it up. It'll be over in a bit."

"Only one stove running?"

"I'd like to run a few more stoves, but you'd need so many people to run them for me. Doesn't it cost anything to heat a stove?"

"Okay, okay, let's get our 'guests' in first."

"Okay, I'll go in and make arrangements, handsome boy. See you later." Mrs. Hughes winked at Karen and turned to walk inside first.

Ron pushed Mr. Mosan alone, while Mason helped Karen push Jeff's stretcher.

"Mrs. Hughes is a very warm person," Mason said to Karen, lowering his voice slightly.

"Yes, I am," Karen nodded.

"Her husband passed away early, and she's now managing the crematorium. Although she's never remarried, she's had many lovers."

"Uncle, don't tell me that."

"Hey, let me remind you, I was your age too." Mason reached out and knocked on the metal plate of the stretcher, making a clanging sound. "A boy your age could even break through the metal plate."

"..."Karen.

"You're getting old, find a decent girlfriend," Mason urged again.

"Okay, uncle, I got it."

Karen knew Mason wasn't deliberately trying to speak ill of Mrs. Hughes. He just didn't want his young nephew to lose control and be seduced by her.

After walking inside, Karen was struck by a distinctly greasy smell.

It was just greasy... not fragrant or sweet, a bit like a moldy bedroom in the rainy season.

However, the furnishings inside were clearly aged; this must be a crematorium with a long history.

"In the early years, this crematorium was on the verge of collapse and was nearly acquired by another large crematorium."

"What happened next?" Karen asked.

"Then it was discovered that, to save costs, the large crematorium was operating its furnaces at night. So, they were sending the ashes of the deceased from the day before to the families of the deceased today."

Hearing this, Karen's eyes widened: Is this even possible?

"That's just…"

"Yeah, sending loved ones here for cremation, and then taking back the ashes of a stranger. The funniest thing is, they kept doing this for years."

"That's tragic."

"After the incident broke, the owner of the crematorium was stoned to death one night, and the police couldn't find the murderer because there were so many suspects with a motive."

Karen nodded and said, "That's damn right."

Put yourself in their shoes. If you were the one who, grieving the loss of a loved one, sent them here for cremation, only to return with the ashes of a stranger, and even kept those ashes for years, Karen would probably feel the urge to kill, too.

"After that big crematorium went bankrupt, Mrs. Hughes's crematorium managed to survive, but it's struggling now. Large-scale funeral chains have already emerged in other cities.

They can connect the entire network from the hospital to our deceased care center, to the crematorium, and even transport everything in between.

They've also opened a branch in Luojia City. Winnie even got a call from them a while ago, saying they want to buy our family."

"Grandpa won't agree," Karen said.

"Of course Father won't agree, and neither will I! You know what they do? They centralize the transportation and management of bodies, centralize mourning, and centralize cremation or burial."

Like wholesale vegetables at a market.

These capitalists should be strung up on streetlights!

All they care about is money. They have no understanding of caring for the deceased, nor do they know how to respect the remains!

Hearing this,

Karen couldn't help but think of Jeff and Mr. Mosang, who had been jostled so hard in the hearse that they were practically kissing.

Uncle,

How dare you even say the word "respect"?

"Our family's doing fine. Although they're trying to cut off our suppliers, thanks to your grandfather, our business has been doing OK," Uncle Mason said in a much more subdued tone. "But things are starting to get tough for Mrs. Hughes again."

At this moment, Ron, who was pushing Mr. Mosang in front, turned around and shouted:

"Aha, so I support the Accord Party. They're the only ones willing to give those damn capitalists a good beating!" "

Ron waved his fist as he spoke.

Karen had read about the Accord Party in the newspaper a few days ago. It's a left-wing party that has been gaining momentum in Luojia City in recent years.

However,

After hearing the word "Accord Party,"

Uncle Mason immediately shouted:

"You're crazy! Supporting those lunatics will only mess up our lives!" "

Ron shrugged, seemingly too lazy to argue with his boss, and continued pushing the stretcher.

Karen looked at Uncle Mason, whose neck was red with anger. He could quite understand his feelings, because his uncle embodied the weakness of the petty bourgeoisie.

This wasn't sarcasm, though it might have sounded like it, but it ultimately came down to a mismatch in social class.

After walking down a short hallway, Karen and the others finally arrived at the "incinerator" with the stretcher.

There were three incinerators in the incinerator, but only one was operating.

Out the window, Karen saw a man with unkempt hair and a beard sitting on the ground.

At that moment,

the incinerator that had been operating also stopped.

A gray-haired but energetic worker opened the door and called to the man:

"Sir, please come and get your wife." "

Then, the old worker spotted Mason, a smile spread across his face, and he waved hello:

"Hi, Mason."

"Old Darcy!"

Uncle Mason stepped forward and handed Old Darcy a cigarette.

"How many today?" Old Darcy asked as he lit his cigarette.

Mason made the "two" sign.

"Oh, God have mercy on you." Old Darcy smiled gleefully.

He knew, of course, how much of a loss cremation would mean for the Immelase family.

In reality, it wouldn't be a loss, but a local burial would have made more profit, and with that potential profit gone, it became a "loss."

"Sir, please come get your wife." "Old Darcy urged, blowing out a puff of smoke.

The man looked up, somewhat bewildered, then silently stood up. But when he saw the incinerator through the glass window, he leaned back against the wall again, as if resisting what was happening before him.

Yes,

Who could suddenly accept that their beloved bedmate had been reduced to a pile of ashes?

Karen heard Uncle Mason whisper to Old Darcy, "What's wrong?"

Old Darcy took a puff of his cigarette, shook his head slightly with disdain, and whispered back,

"I won't give you a tip, and I won't buy the urn from the club, haha." If a guest tips or purchases any of our merchandise,

they'll naturally receive some special treatment.

For example, if you're afraid or uncomfortable, the cremator, Old Darcy, will help you place the ashes in an urn and hand it to you.

Of course, some people prefer to collect their loved ones' ashes themselves, in which case Old Darcy will also carefully break the bones for you to place.

The man couldn't tell if he was broke or simply didn't understand these things; his eyes were filled with nothing but bewilderment.

Looking at his foolish expression, Old Darcy sneered, "You're a psychology professor, and you don't even understand this."

Huh?

This position caught Karen's attention.

What a coincidence, they ran into someone in the same industry.

Karen took the initiative to approach the man, looked at him, and whispered,

"You should go pick up your wife now." "

"I...I..." The man's hands were shaking.

It was clear he was wrestling with an intense psychological struggle.

In fact, if a relationship is good and they've lived together for a long time, after a loved one passes away, the thought of their remains or ashes won't feel the same kind of horror you'd experience in a horror movie. Instead, it'll feel... quite ordinary.

But some people's emotions and psychology are unique. For example, in a previous life, Karen had treated a patient who loved his wife dearly. He chose to stay with her during labor. It was a truly loving gesture, but... the trauma left him with a deep psychological scar, ultimately forcing him to divorce her. Later, his fear worsened to the point where he trembled with fear at the sight of women and children.

"Are you still afraid of your wife?" Old Darcy urged. "Hurry up! There's a long line." "

"I... I'm not..." The man's face was filled with struggle and self-blame. It was clear that Darcy's words, "You're still afraid of your wife," had left him feeling a deep sense of guilt and self-reproach.

Mental well-being is divided into two aspects: "physical" and "psychological." The "psychological" aspect is generally easier to overcome, but the "physical" aspect is truly difficult.

"I'm not... I'm not afraid of her... It's... It's me..."

Karen sighed,

reached out,

patted the man's shoulder.

Okay,

For the sake of our fellow travelers.

Karen turned and walked over to Mason.

"Uncle, we're in a hurry to get home. I'll go collect his ashes for him."

Hearing this, Darcy felt a slight irritation and said indifferently:

"Your nephew is truly kind." "

There was no compliment in his tone.

Mason shrugged and said, "Old Darcy, I'm in a hurry to get home. Mary'll blame me if I'm late."

"Okay, okay."

Old Darcy gave up.

"You guys push one body up first, and I'll go pick it up."

Ron pushed Mr. Mosang in. Karen hesitated for a moment, but still helped Ron carry Mr. Mosang onto the incinerator's push table.

Although Mr. Mosang had appeared last night,

expressing his determination not to be cremated;

But Karen couldn't help him. Even if the previous "Karen" had left him 6,000 rubles, enough to buy a coffin at cost, but what about the cost of the burial plot?

Most importantly...what reason and what qualifications did he have to ask his family to give him extra treatment for an ordinary customer?

Grandpa's still alive.

Even if Grandpa's gone, Uncle's still here.

It's not his turn to rule this family... well, it's not his turn to ruin it either.

After finishing all this, Karen moved over to Old Darcy's side, watching him digging through the ashes with an iron hook.

Old Darcy turned his head to glance at Karen, who was standing behind him, and asked:

"First time here?"

"Yes."

"Haven't you seen this before?"

"No."

"You're quite the young master," Old Darcy teased.

This was the first time any male from the Inmerles family had seen ashes.

Karen pointed to the pile of bones on the ground and asked, "Shouldn't that be ashes?"

Karen emphasized the word "ashes."

In his mind, after cremation, ashes should be white, flour-like.

But what he saw was a pile of bone fragments. There was some ashes, but the bones were the majority, and they were quite large.

Old Darcy asked doubtfully, "That's it."

"Oh, I see."

Karen suddenly realized that the movies and TV shows of her past life had deceived her.

Just then, seeing Old Darcy drop the butt of his cigarette, Karen felt in her pocket, took out the pack of cigarettes Paul had given her, pulled out a cigarette, and handed it to Old Darcy.

Old Darcy took the cigarette,

his expression brightened considerably,

but he still reminded her:

"That's not how you act like a good person."

"Haha," Karen understood what he meant and could only explain, "He came to our school before and gave us an open class. He was kind of my teacher, I guess."

After hearing this explanation,

Old Darcy smacked the filter.

"Is that so?"

Then,

Old Darcy put on a glove on his left hand, picked up a small hammer with his right, and squatted down.

He began to hammer away at the large bones, breaking them into smaller pieces.

"Does everyone take ashes away like this?" Karen asked curiously. Old Darcy chuckled and said, "Most people only take a portion."

"Oh," Karen continued, "Well..."

"Can't you see I'm doing it right now? For your uncle's sake." Old Darcy shook his shoulders and continued hammering the bones. "And for your grandfather's sake."

Large bones were broken one by one.

Old Darcy paused and pointed to the table diagonally in front of him, where a row of urns of various styles stood.

"Bring one over here."

"Oh, okay."

Karen walked over and took a quick look. He saw that the cheapest urn cost 1,000 rubles.

That was half a month's salary for an ordinary worker.

Of course, there were even more expensive ones. Karen saw an exquisite and elegant urn priced at 50,000 rubles.

However, it was covered in dust, clearly belonging to a veteran actor.

After all, many people cremated their bodies for religious reasons, often because it was cheaper than burial. Therefore, this 50,000 ruble urn was destined to be difficult to circulate.

Karen picked up the 1,000 ruble urn and held it before Old Darcy.

"Well, I'll have my uncle give you the money."

Old Darcy chuckled, waved his hand, and said generously, "No thanks."

"How can I be so embarrassed to pay you 1,000 rubles?"

"It costs 50, and the wholesale price is even cheaper."

"..."Karen.

Fuck,

So shady,

They're really shady.

Old Darcy asked, somewhat puzzled, "Didn't you help with household chores?"

"I... didn't."

This part of the memory was truly absent from the previous "Karen."

"No wonder, your family sells coffins and clothes, and they're similar to this."

"Really?"

Karen smiled awkwardly.

Haha, so my house is this dark, too.

Old Darcy began to pack the ashes, selecting the bones according to their size and shape, placing them at the bottom, then to the sides, then in the middle...

The layers were clearly arranged, the order was perfect;

It made Karen feel like she was arranging a dish before serving...

Finally,

there was hardly anything left out.

Old Darcy had placed almost all the ashes in the urn.

The skull, being hard and difficult to incinerate, was finally placed at the top, in the middle.

Then,

with a "pop,"

Old Darcy closed the urn.

"Give it to him."

"Yes, thank you."

"Heh."

Karen bent down and

picked up the urn.

It was hard to imagine that, not long ago, she had been a living person. Well, even before entering the incinerator, she was still a complete person.

Now,

it was in the box in her hands.

Karen walked out. As she approached the man, he instinctively extended his hands, though somewhat timidly.

"She...she..."

"I've brought your wife out. Don't mind. Now, I'll give you her hand."

Hearing this,

the man's expression suddenly relaxed,

and his tone became slightly calmer.

"No...you're a gentleman."

He finally reached out, took his wife's urn, and cradled it in his arms.

"My Linda...is she truly gone?"

Karen replied, "Physically speaking, she is."

"Then..." The man raised his head, a glint of hope in his eyes.

"But in the spiritual world, she's still alive, living in your spirit.

When you think of her, she's there."

"Yes, yes," the man nodded repeatedly. "As long as I think of her, she's there. She's still by my side. No, she's even closer, my Linda."

A smile crossed the man's face. It wasn't a sinister smile, but a warm, gentle, sunny one.

"Linda was a member of the Berry Church, and according to its teachings, her body needed to be cremated. You know, bringing her to a crematorium felt more like torture to me.

Thank you. After Linda passed away, my friends around me all urged me to let go and accept her passing. You were the first person to tell me she was still alive. Thank you, I'm truly grateful."

"You're welcome."

The man embraced the urn and turned away.

Karen leaned silently against the hallway wall, slowly smoking a cigarette.

At this moment, Mason approached and asked, somewhat angrily:

"When did you learn to smoke? Who taught you?"

Karen replied, "Aunt Mary."

Karen wasn't lying. The first cigarette he'd ever smoked since waking up in this world was given to him by Aunt Mary.

"Um... okay."

Uncle Mason immediately changed the subject:

"Karen, I know you're kind, but you can't help everyone. If you become accustomed to kindness, you'll find there are so many people in this world who need help."

"Uncle, I just..." Karen wanted to explain, but he didn't know how to explain the "companion" argument. He could only nod, "Yes, Uncle, I know I can't help too many people."

"No, it's not a question of whether you can help or not. It's when you find more and more people needing your help and you're unable to do so, that you feel pain."

Karen was stunned for a moment, then nodded. "You're right."

Mason was pleased with Karen's attitude. He shrugged and said, "Besides, many times, being kind doesn't bring good rewards."

As soon as he finished speaking,

the man who had left with the urn trotted over again. He stood before Karen and bowed again.

This bow caught Karen off guard, and instinctively, she bowed back.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I forgot. I haven't paid for the urn yet."

The man pulled out a rather worn, obviously old wallet.

Of course, the previous adjectives were meaningless and pale.

Because the key point in describing the wallet was its... thickness.

It was thick. To be more precise, it was bloated!

So bloated that it couldn't even be closed!

The 100-rupee note bore the portrait of Emperor Rothlan, a figure from Ruilan's history.

And at that moment,

Emperor Rothlan was practically visibly tense, ready to explode!

It wasn't that he didn't have the money for cremation, the tip, or the urn, but...he hadn't even considered the experience of living without money.

"I've already paid for the cremation. How much is the urn?" the man asked. "Sorry, I almost forgot and just left, holding Linda's hand."

"Five... ahem... one thousand rubles."

Karen wanted to say fifty, the cost price.

But then he remembered that Old Darcy had been helpful, having handled the ashes so well. The thousand rubles should go towards the urn.

He wasn't thinking of profiting from the difference.

After all, he had plenty of money in his previous life; in this one, he wouldn't have to worry about food and drink for the time being. The previous "Karen" had even saved up a stash of 6,000 rubles.

"Okay."

The man took all the money out of his wallet, put the empty wallet away, and handed the thick wad of money to Karen.

The thickness,

The weight,

Uncle Mason, standing nearby, was stunned.

Hmm...

Karen, who had previously been unmoved by small amounts of money, now had his eyes wide open.

This huge wad of money must be at least 20,000 rubles, no less!

Subconsciously swallowing, Karen said, "You gave... too much."

"Not much. This is your counseling fee. The psychological services you provided me are worth it. No, you returned Linda to me. This little money can't even repay you for your tremendous help!

But this time, I only had time to withdraw this cash from the bank. I should have withdrawn more..."

"No, no, no, that's enough, that's enough," Karen tried to comfort him.

"I... I don't have my business card. My name is Piaget, Piaget Adams. Where's my business card? Where's my business card... Do you have it? I hope to contact you later to discuss this."

"I don't have..."

"Yes, yes."

Uncle Mason, standing nearby, immediately took out his own business card and handed it over. It read "Immerles Departure Care." Piaget took the card and said with a smile, "I'll visit you at the address here. Thank you again."

With that,

Piaget bowed again to Karen.

Karen, clutching a large wad of bills, immediately returned the gesture.

Then,

Piaget "took" his wife's hand and left again.

Karen counted out a thousand roubles, intending to give it to old Darcy later.

Karen handed the remaining money to Mason.

Mason simply smiled, pushed the money back, and said,

"Keep it for yourself."

"Don't you have to turn it in?" Karen asked.

It's a lot of money, yes, but compared to life, life is certainly more important.

If this income were turned in:

Hey,

Dis,

See,

I can't just cook, I can make money!

So please don't kill me!

"He already said it's your fee... Oh, the consultation fee. That's yours. Just keep it. Remember to keep it safe. Or I'll take you to the bank tomorrow and open an account for you to deposit it."

"Thank you, uncle."

"You're welcome, you're welcome." Mason reached out, tugged at Karen's shoulders, and asked, "I heard everything you said to that... that Piaget, right? I heard everything you said to him. Although I didn't quite understand a little bit, I could tell you were very helpful.

Why didn't I know you could have a heart-to-heart talk?"

The previous "Karen" was autistic. How could he possibly have a heart-to-heart talk?

"I read it in a book, and I've learned a little bit."

"Oh, so I see. When I get back, I'll talk to your aunt about it, and we can expand our family program, like this time: psychological counseling or psychotherapy.

You know, those families who've lost loved ones are grieving and need someone to comfort them."

Oh,

Karen understood what Mason meant.

In fact, in his previous life, upscale funeral homes would have counselors on hand to comfort the deceased's family and provide psychological counseling.

"Can you do that?" Mason continued. "I mean, without forcing yourself."

"Yes, no problem."

Karen answered straightforwardly, embodied in his professional confidence.

"That's great. You know, every time I see those grieving families, my heart aches..." Mason clutched his chest.

"Uncle is so kind..."

"Because I know people in that mood can be irrational and spend more than usual, and I don't have enough excuses to make money from them. The thought of that makes me so sad."

"..."Karen.

"Do you really want to give Old Darcy a thousand rubles?" Mason asked.

"Yes," Karen nodded.

"Okay, I'll give it to him." Mason took the thousand rubles and went inside to find Old Darcy.

Inside the glass wall,

Old Darcy used an iron hook to cut a hole in Mr. Mosan's belly,

then pushed him into the incinerator.

Karen saw Mason approach Old Darcy. Old Darcy was surprised at first, then laughed. He even turned around, took off his hat, and bowed to Karen outside the glass wall.

At this time,

Ron also wandered out, lit a cigarette, and relaxed.

"Ron."

"Um, what's up, Master Karen?"

Karen took out 500 rubles and handed it to Ron.

"This money..." Ron was a little confused.

"That gentleman just gave it to me. Everyone who sees it gets a share."

"Really? Thank you, Master. Thank you, Master."

Ron happily pocketed the money. He had no wife and lived paycheck to paycheck. He even had to pay off his monthly salary after every paycheck. These extra 500 rubles were enough for him to spend two nights in the tavern.

Karen asked,

"By the way, Ron, did the government call you to collect Jeff's body?"

Ron, completely unprepared, answered directly,

"No, we were supposed to go to Huashuiwan Nursing Home that morning to pick up Mr. Mosang, but as we were passing Mink Street... 125 or 130, anyway, we found Jeff frozen to death next to a trash can in front of that street.

We had no choice but to return Jeff before picking up Mr. Mosang. Mr. Mason applied for the welfare check afterward."

Sure enough!

Karen's mind immediately flashed back to what Uncle Mason had said as he drove past the townhouse, number 128:

"But the day before yesterday, her family ran into a problem, and she asked me for help, so I helped... She and her husband are looking for a new house to move into..."

So,

Uncle had helped his first love's family...

dispose of a body!

Wait a minute.

Karen suddenly realized something.

He had "seen" images on the bodies of Mr. Mosang and Jeff.

Mr. Mosang was obsessed with not wanting to be cremated, a fact confirmed by Aunt Mary. Due to religious beliefs, Mr. Mosang was opposed to cremation.

And if what he saw with Mr. Mosang was true,

then the woman he saw with Jeff, a woman with only legs and a face, wasn't she also... real?

Karen's mind immediately flashed back to the scene on the second floor when he passed by that house: those legs and those red high heels!

So,

In the house of his uncle's first love,

there was a... monster living there!