Early the next morning.
When the three arrived at the hospital from the hotel, the Shi family’s butler was already waiting there.
"Young Madam, my condolences."
"Young Master Wangyue, my condolences."
A joyful expression immediately appeared on Liu Susu’s grief-stricken face, but before she could speak, the butler, dressed in black, formally explained his purpose:
"The funeral home has been arranged, we’ll go to the crematorium later."
"Is there no memorial service?" the hoarse voice of the young man asked.
"The master and madam found a fortune teller last night who calculated the date, and tomorrow morning is the most suitable time for the young master to be buried."
"So soon?" Liu Susu murmured, but she felt a sense of relief in her heart.
The terrifying image of the fool before his death kept flashing before her eyes last night, and she also hoped for him to be laid to rest soon, the sooner the better.
Luckily, the family had arranged for someone to come early today.
This way, she wouldn’t have to do anything herself.
"The date was calculated by the fortune teller." The butler sighed.
Meanwhile, he presented two sets of new clothes to the mother and son, both brand new black suits. "Young Madam and Young Master, please change your clothes, the hearse from the funeral home will arrive shortly."
Shi Wangyue stared intently at the butler’s calm face, once again feeling deeply powerless and weak.
Why?
Why is there such a difference between people?
His father, as a member of the Shi family, couldn’t even get a memorial service after dying.
Just because he was a fool, just because he couldn’t bring value to the family, just because he was a blemish on the glamorous life of his grandparents, did he have to be continuously concealed, hidden, and even his death had to be silent?
Growing up, he had attended funerals.
He remembered an uncle in the family who died last year, and the whole family went to pay their respects.
At that time, he heard people discussing how the uncle’s body was laid out in the mourning hall for seven days, with all relatives and friends coming to mourn. He saw the flowers brought by everyone surrounding the mourning hall in circles.
The cousins even hired a master for seven consecutive days to chant scriptures for uncle, to help him find peace in the Western Paradise.
But here with his father, his death immediately meant being taken to the crematorium to be cremated...
The boy clenched his teeth, his fists tightly closed, and as his gaze lowered, a storm of blackness surged in his eyes.
You Guang glanced at the silent young boy and asked the butler, "When will the funeral home people arrive?"
"Miss Ning, 8:30."
You Guang quickly checked the time on her wristwatch; it was now 7:41.
She turned and instructed the driver, who had been waiting for her early at the hospital, to buy four bouquets of fresh flowers.
Fortunately, there was a row of flower shops next to the hospital, and the driver soon returned with four bouquets of yellow and white chrysanthemums.
You Guang took the four bouquets from the driver and handed them separately to Liu Susu, the butler, Shi Wangyue, and kept one for herself.
When handing the flowers to the butler and Liu Susu, she said, "Auntie, Butler Uncle, when we escort Uncle to the crematorium later, we will scatter flower petals along the way to guide him."
The butler nodded in agreement, a bit surprised that the young lady from the Ning family knew about this.
Liu Susu asked in confusion, "Why scatter the flowers?"
"Auntie, just do it. It’s the last thing we can do for Uncle."
Liu Susu said nothing more.
At 8:30, an unmarked black hearse arrived at the hospital morgue. The funeral home workers placed Shi Tingsong into a wooden coffin meant for luxury cremation and loaded it onto the hearse, preparing to transport him to the crematorium.
Liu Susu didn’t dare to accompany Shi Tingsong on the hearse, but Shi Wangyue followed along as soon as Shi Tingsong was placed inside the hearse.
You Guang accompanied him as well.
Soon the hearse was moving. You Guang opened her phone and played the "Six Syllable Mantra," the deep Buddhist chants resonating in the quiet hearse, stirring waves of sorrow, and the boy’s tears began to fall again.
Meanwhile, it started to rain outside.
You Guang opened a small gap in the car window and, as she scattered petals outside, she said, "Uncle Shi Tingsong, may you go well, may you find your way to the place of light, go to the brightest place, go west, to the Western Paradise."
The small girl’s voice was gentle and soft, tinged with a bit of choking up. The hearse driver in the front, having driven funeral hearses for 28 years, had long been accustomed to witnessing various partings of life and death and wouldn’t empathize with the two grieving children across from him.
But he was indeed amazed, as it was the first time he’d seen only two children in their teens escorting the deceased requiring a luxury cremation.