Who Needs a CEO? I Choose Stardom

Over the next two weeks, they filmed two more stories.

The first deceased person was an eighty-three-year-old woman brought over from the hospital.

The cause of death was poison.

Because it was a suicide, the police closed the case quickly. When she was brought in and the body bag was unzipped, Han Su saw that the deceased’s lower body was a mess. Her family hadn’t even bothered to clean her.

After her husband passed away, the old woman moved into a nursing home to free up her house for her grandson, who couldn’t afford one, to get married. She had lived there for over a decade.

She had taken the poison because when her daughter’s son got married, her daughter didn’t even come to pick her up for the wedding banquet. That, and everything that followed, made her heart turn to ash.

Several days passed after the wedding, but the old woman still hadn’t received an explanation. She called her daughter, who explained cheerfully in front of her new daughter-in-law:

”You’re getting on in years, and your health isn’t great. It’s a long drive, and I was worried you’d be uncomfortable on the way, so I didn’t pick you up. It’s all the same if the young couple comes to see you when they have time off.”

’That reason seems plausible,’ the old woman thought.

Although she felt uneasy, she accepted the explanation.

She thought that May Day was just a few days away. The whole country would be on holiday, so her grandson would surely bring his new wife to see her. Even if it was a few days late, it would be more or less the same.

Just as her daughter said, not going to the banquet saved her the trouble of the journey. She wasn’t young anymore and couldn’t handle the strain. If she fell ill on the way, she would just be a burden to the children.

On May first, she woke up bright and early, took out a brand-new, bright red tunic embroidered with floral medallions and a hundred blessings, and put it on. Without even eating, she went to the gate of the nursing home to wait.

When the gatekeeper saw her sitting there for over half an hour without moving, he naturally had to ask, ”Ma’am, what are you doing out here?”

”It’s only the beginning of May. The mornings and evenings are still chilly!”

The old woman just smiled with her lips pressed together, not saying a word.

But that look of eager anticipation! Anyone could see she was waiting for someone.

And dressed like that, it was most likely for a happy occasion in the family.

The gatekeeper had seen many elderly people move in for all sorts of reasons. He was long used to seeing visitors come by during the holidays.

Seeing that the old woman wasn’t leaving, he brought her a blanket to cover her legs but didn’t try to persuade her to go back inside.

And so the old woman waited, and waited, and waited until dusk fell and the evening meal began at the home, but the person she was hoping for still hadn’t arrived.

A staff member had already tried to persuade her several times that day, promising to call her the moment any visitors arrived at the gate, but she simply wouldn’t leave.

”I’m old now,” she said. ”The children are busy with work every day. They only have time to visit during the holidays. Every visit is one less to be had!”

The old woman’s eyes shone and her face was smiling as she spoke. The staff member wanted to say that since it was so late, they probably weren’t coming today, but in the end, they couldn’t bring themselves to say it.

In truth, having lived to her age with a perfectly sound mind, the old woman was sharp and perceptive. How could she not understand what this meant?

All her stubbornness was just to wait for an answer—an answer she was unwilling to believe.

Seeing the old woman wait until the sky was completely dark, still refusing to return to her room, not eating or drinking, the staff member was at a loss. Just as they were about to figure out a way to escort her back and reason with her, they saw her face the main gate. Under the cover of darkness, she tilted her head up slightly, stared at the starless sky for a while, and only then raised her arm to wipe her face.

All because of a house, her son resented her, and her daughter resented her. She wasn’t even dead yet, but the siblings were already at each other’s throats over the inheritance.

She still remembered what her two children looked like when they were born—tiny little bundles she had to cradle in her arms to nurse. When they got bigger and couldn’t sit in her lap anymore, they could only stand to eat, and she still couldn’t bear to wean them...

She still remembered them growing up, squabbling and playing. Her daughter was a crybaby; if someone bullied her outside, she would come running back to her brother, wiping her tears, and he would march out with his hands on his hips to get revenge for her...

They were supposed to be the closest people in the world to each other.

She and her husband believed they had been fair.

They had given them the same educational opportunities, the same love and care. Even the inheritance had been settled in a will before her husband passed away.

The couple had divided their assets into two portions of equal value. Their honest, steady son chose the house, while their clever, ambitious daughter chose the cash. Her stay in the nursing home was paid for by her own pension and remaining savings.

Her husband, worried about his gentle-natured wife, had wanted to handle these troublesome matters for her. He hoped to spare her future struggles and that his fairness would ensure their children treated their mother well.

But who could have predicted that two things of roughly equal value at the time would change so differently over the years?

Now, the value of that house had quintupled. The daughter had taken the cash, but due to poor business decisions, she had lost every last penny.

The higher the property prices rose, the greater the conflict between the siblings grew. Whose fault was it, really?

Was it the world’s fault? Was it her and her husband’s fault? Or was it the fault of the children they had so carefully raised?

Was it the fault of human depravity? Or the fault of the times?

Or was it simply their own fault?

The old woman couldn’t figure it out.

You can split savings in half, but you can’t split a house in half, can you?

But the one wiser than her had long since left her behind, and now there was no one left to answer her questions.

Night fell. The lights at the main gate flickered on. The old woman wore a festive red outfit, but her silhouette was dark.

She dried her tears and sat there for a long time.

The staff member, who had a family of their own with both old and young members, couldn’t hold it together any longer.

After composing themselves, the staff member went over. The old woman had also regained her composure.

”Sorry to make you worry!”

The old woman was very well-mannered. For over ten years, she had always spoken to the staff in a gentle and soft voice.

”We saved dinner for you! Come on back to your room and eat! They probably got held up with something today. They’ll come in a little while!”

The old woman forced a smile and nodded lightly. She followed the staff member back, ate her meal, and before bed, after composing herself, she still couldn’t resist. Still clinging to a shred of hope, she called her daughter and asked if her grandson and his wife were on holiday.

Her daughter told her the young couple had gone traveling! It was a rare holiday for them, after all.

Her voice was full of joy.

The old woman was silent for a long time. Then, without saying a word, she hung up the phone.

On May second, the old woman woke up early as usual, put on the same clothes from the day before, and went out.

The nursing home didn’t restrict the freedom of its able-bodied residents. Others just assumed she was in a bad mood and had gone for a walk in the park. But when dinner started that evening, she was nowhere to be found.

A staff member went to her room to look for her and found her foaming at the mouth, her face blue. At the foot of the bed lay a half-empty bottle of pesticide.

The nursing home immediately called the police and sent her to the hospital, but by that evening, she was gone.

Because she died from poison, the old woman suffered greatly before her death. Her bright, festive clothes were covered in vomit, and her lower body was soiled from incontinence.

When the family was notified, it wasn’t the son’s family who arrived first, but rather the daughter and her husband, who lived farther away.

The daughter arrived at the hospital and wept inconsolably, yet she seemed completely oblivious to the filth on her mother’s body.

People are, after all, bundles of contradictions.

The deceased was sent to the funeral home. Funeral Master Han Su, wearing a protective suit and two pairs of gloves, washed the body repeatedly until she was spotless, only then changing her clothes and applying makeup.

She applied a high-concentration mortuary mask, foundation, and blush, then carefully drew the eyebrows and applied lipstick...

When the old woman was laid in her coffin, she looked as if she were merely asleep.

Just then, the son’s family finally arrived, accompanied by the lawyer who was there to read the will.

His mother was already dead; the only important thing now was to legally transfer the house to his name as soon as possible.

When the daughter saw the lawyer, right in front of her mother’s body, she lunged forward and scratched her brother’s face to shreds.

At that moment, Han Su walked out carrying a tray.

She was as cold as an ice sculpture, and in a flat voice, she stopped the brawling family members:

”These are the items the deceased had on her person. The family should come and decide what to do with them.”

The disheveled siblings, supported by their respective family members, shuffled closer, only to see a festive red envelope lying on the tray.

The red envelope was stuffed full. Printed on it was a cute, chubby baby and the gleaming golden characters for ”May you soon have a precious child.”

The brother stared at the red envelope, his eyes instantly turning red. He spun around and slapped his sister across the face—SLAP!

”You animal!”

The sister broke down as well, screaming as she lunged at her brother, crying while punching and kicking him...

Although there were elements of artistic license, when Ni Bingyan first read the script, she was so angry her chest heaved. She had to eat two rounds of spicy hot pot just to calm down.

When filming began, the production had hired two veteran actors to play the siblings. Their performance drew her even deeper into the scene, making her so furious she felt like her stomach would burst!

’The screenwriter is completely insane,’ she thought. ’What kind of messed-up plot is this?!’