I can rewind time to prevent death-Chapter 385 - 303: The Meng Family of Tricky Silk (Please Subscribe, Requesting Monthly Tickets and Recommendations!)

Chapter 385 -303: The Meng Family of Tricky Silk (Please Subscribe, Requesting Monthly Tickets and Recommendations!)

These past few days have been the busiest for the Meng Family, with Meng Yongshou residing in Zhuhua City of Yannan District, the founder of the locally and regionally top-ranked Longevity Leather Factory.

Every day, orders for the leather factory fly in like snowflakes, and the Meng family has entered the Yannan District wealthy list for several years in a row, maintaining the throne as the wealthiest family in Zhuhua City for the past five years.

For Meng Yongshou, a naturally busy man, he had to deal with business matters daily, as well as manage some departments.

Otherwise, the pollutants discharged from Longevity Leather Factory would have long been enough to shut down the company with its hundred-thousand-square-meter premises and over 4,000 formal employees.

Moreover, Meng Yongshou’s factory had solved the employment problems of nearby residents; he himself had always been involved in charity work, especially focusing on water source management.

...

As for his true intentions, perhaps only he and a few others were clear.

In recent days, Meng Yongshou had not been busy with business, but rather with a matter at home—his 86-year-old father had passed away.

As a prominent figure in the city, the Meng family’s funeral could not be handled carelessly, and they had to welcome many important figures to offer condolences, turning it almost into a networking event.

It was estimated that it would take about seven days to complete everything.

According to the city’s crematorium regulations, the body in the Funeral Hall should be cremated after three days, but Meng Yongshou, eager to maximize relationship-building, forcefully postponed the cremation by four days, declaring that Old Master Meng would be cremated a week later.

During the Spirit Guarding, Meng Yongshou would return home every night at eleven o’clock sharp, never having stayed overnight at the Funeral Hall once.

Following his lead, the other relatives were mostly just going through the motions as well; practically, as soon as Meng Yongshou had entertained the last group of mourners and left, the other relatives would follow suit behind him.

Those guarding the Funeral Hall were employees from the factory, as well as people Meng Yongshou had temporarily hired to play the filial son.

Today was the fourth day of Spirit Guarding, which was also beyond the cremation deadline as per the crematorium’s rules.

For Meng Yongshou, money could work wonders, and extending the deadline was no big deal as long as his goals could be achieved.

As usual, he came home promptly at eleven o’clock, by which time his wife Pan Ya, who had returned home earlier, was already asleep. His children would typically be out playing at this time, and it was common for them to return home at one or two in the morning.

But these days were special, and Meng Yongshou had decreed that both children must stay at home, so the two, along with their mother, had come back from the crematorium together; they too had not yet gone to sleep, with the son sitting in front of the computer with headphones on, playing games, and the daughter lying in bed in her own room, scrolling through her phone.

Having been too busy to eat properly all day, Meng Yongshou’s body was feeling the strain, so he decided to take a shower first, then asked Aunt Kuang, the main chef, to fry two eggs for him and boil a bowl of noodles.

The family’s villa featured a front and rear yard, and there was also a swimming pool in the backyard. Usually, Meng Yongshou would have gone for a night swim before bed, but he really didn’t feel like it at the moment.

After his shower, he returned to the bedroom, and shortly Aunt Kuang brought up a delicately plated bowl of noodles, with two fried eggs on top, emitting a delicious aroma.

It was said that Aunt Kuang had once been a head chef at a five-star hotel, lured away by a high salary from Meng Yongshou to cater specifically for the Meng Family.

Not wanting to wake his wife, Meng Yongshou put on his robe and left the bedroom, slurping the noodles in the dining area on the second floor.

Aunt Kuang had also prepared a steaming cup of milk and said, “Mr. Meng, you eat first. I’ll go down and clean up the kitchen, then I’ll come back to collect the dishes later.”

“Hmm, go ahead with your work, take a rest early,” Meng Yongshou replied, nodding as he took a bite of the fried egg.

Aunt Kuang quickly went downstairs.

Meng Yongshou’s corpulence was not unrelated to his dietary habits, but fortunately, he was tall, and though his build seemed somewhat bloated, he conveyed an impression of burliness.

Aunt Kuang’s culinary skills were impressive; a bowl of simple noodles combined with a pre-prepared rich bone broth, sprinkled with some green onions and paired with perfectly cooked fried eggs, was greasy but not too oily, and Meng Yongshou was about to finish eating soon.

The soup was very aromatic, and he slurped it down, soon revealing the bottom of the bowl.

However, just then, Meng Yongshou paused; he felt as though there was someone standing not far off.

Clasping the bowl with both hands, he looked up and saw Aunt Kuang, who had just left not long before, standing at the dining room door, shivering as she watched him.

Putting down the bowl, Meng Yongshou looked puzzled and said, “What’s the matter, Aunt Kuang?”

Aunt Kuang’s face was pale, her lips blue, her limbs trembling involuntarily, and she clutched the door frame as if to keep from falling, seeming to have a muddled mind. It was a good while after Meng Yongshou asked his question before she finally managed to respond.

“Mr… Mr. Meng, the… Old Master… he’s come back.”

“What?!” Meng Yongshou suddenly stood up, throwing the chopsticks on the table, “You mean, my… my dad… has come back?”

Aunt Kuang could no longer answer, leaning against the doorframe and nodding her head.

“Who brought him back?” Meng Yongshou said.

“No,” Aunt Kuang quickly waved her hands, “It seems like he came back by himself, right in the kitchen.”

“No, that’s impossible.”

Meng Yongshou dashed out of the second-floor dining room, heading towards the corridor that led to the first-floor staircase, while saying, “Wake my wife up… don’t call the kids yet.”

Reaching the staircase, Meng Yongshou’s face had also turned very pale, he shivered involuntarily as if remembering something, turned back to the dining room, and picked up the mobile phone on the table.

Seeing Aunt Kuang still leaning against the doorframe, he said angrily, “Hurry and wake Pan Ya up!”

Only then did Aunt Kuang react, hurrying towards the bedroom, trembling as she walked.

As Meng Yongshou approached the staircase, he dialed a number on his phone and said, once someone picked up, “Zhengping, are you still at the funeral hall?”

Zhengping was the office director of the factory, surnamed Bai, who had been leading several people from the factory, along with hired mourners, in guarding the spirit for the past few days.

Bai Zhengping’s reply was somewhat flustered, “Boss, I just stepped out to grab some supper; I’ll be right back, heading back now.”

“Go back immediately,” Meng Yongshou roared in a lowered voice, “Check if my dad is still there… lying in the ice coffin, and call me back immediately once you’re sure.”

“Ah!” Bai Zhengping was evidently terrified on the other end, his voice followed by the sounds of closing a car door and starting to run back.

The guy was obviously about to leave the funeral home in his car.

After hanging up, Meng Yongshou had reached the bottom of the stairs on the first floor, clutching the mobile phone tightly in his hand, his palm turning purple from the grip, beads of sweat forming on his forehead—it wasn’t clear whether it was the heat from the noodles he had just eaten or cold sweat from fright.

Meng Yongshou’s gaze locked onto the doorway to the left of the staircase entrance, which led to the kitchen.

He looked up at the second floor, where no sound could be heard, unsure whether that damned Aunt Kuang had woken Pan Ya or not.

Meng Yongshou’s whole body broke out in goosebumps, and his head felt numb; honestly speaking, he did not believe Aunt Kuang’s words.

After all, there were people watching over the funeral home; if the old master really did climb out of the ice coffin and walk back home, it was highly unlikely that he wouldn’t have been seen, so the chances were too low.

But in this era of frequent strangenesses, anyone who came into contact with this realm felt a sense of horror.

Lost in whimsical ideas, Meng Yongshou cautiously made his way to the kitchen door, standing outside and looking into the kitchen.

The villa was well lit, with lights on everywhere, so his vision was excellent, but as soon as he looked in, he saw a short and slender figure standing in front of the kitchen counter, their back to the door, hands moving in front of them, doing something unclear.

Looking at the back, he could see the figure was dressed in black. Meng Yongshou wasn’t sure, as his memory of his father’s burial clothes was vague—they were dark-colored, but he wasn’t certain of the specific style.

During the period around when the old master was laid into the ice coffin, Meng Yongshou had been busy with hosting and receptions, and the burial clothes had been arranged by Bai Zhengping, so he hadn’t paid much attention.

Standing at the kitchen door, looking at the silent figure in front of him, Meng Yongshou felt a chill down his spine.

Although there was a distance between them and he couldn’t be entirely sure, there was at least a fifty percent chance that the person in front of him was his father.

Just then, the mobile phone in his hand suddenly rang out, vibrating as it rang. The sound wasn’t loud, but in the quiet of the surroundings, it sounded to Meng Yongshou like the beating of drums and gongs.

Without thinking, he knew it must be Bai Zhengping calling, and he had neglected to put his phone on silent.

The moment the ringing started, the black-clad figure, which had been standing still in front of the kitchen counter, stopped what they were doing; hands dropped to their sides, and a bowed head slowly lifted.

At that moment, Meng Yongshou felt as if his heart was about to stop beating, his lips parted slightly as he stared sweat-drenched at the figure that did not move—an aged face full of wrinkles turned his way.

He had already pressed the answer button in haste; the ringing stopped, the call connected, but it took him a long time to bring the phone to his ear.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

The voice of Bai Zhengping came through, mixed with terror, “Boss… boss… boss, did you hear that? The old master… he’s gone, the ice coffin is… empty, we all went out for supper and I went to the bathroom, I didn’t notice if…”

Meng Yongshou could no longer hear the rest because the person in front of him was turning around, and he was so scared that he dropped the phone, staring wide-eyed at the face turning towards him—a familiar face, creased with age.

“Dad!”