V2: Chapter 120: A False Funeral
The morning mist had not yet dissipated, and a solemn and dignified atmosphere permeated every corner of the Langwendi Mansion.
Today was Mrs. Miranda's funeral. From servants to nobles, everyone in the Langwendi Mansion was immersed in deep sorrow.
In the courtyard of the Langwendi Mansion, a long white path led directly to the funeral hall. On both sides of the path were blooming white roses, their buds still intact, pure white, as if they had bloomed specially to welcome Mrs. Miranda's soul. A gentle breeze blew, and the petals swayed softly, releasing a faint fragrance that mingled with the sorrowful atmosphere, causing a pang of heartache.
Inside the funeral hall, a magnificent coffin lay quietly in the center, covered with a deep purple velvet drape embroidered with gold patterns, showcasing Mrs. Miranda's nobility and elegance in life.
Around the coffin, rare flowers from around the world were arranged, blooming in vibrant colors.
The walls of the mourning hall were adorned with portraits of Mrs. Miranda. These portraits, some solemn, some elegant, some smiling, some contemplative, each showcased her charm at different stages of her life.
One portrait, in particular, was striking: Mrs. Miranda, dressed in a magnificent gown, stood in the garden of the Langwendi mansion, playing with her son Edwin, her smile so warm.
It was all so artificial.
Guests arrived one after another, dressed in black suits and white gloves, their faces heavy with somber expressions. Each person silently prayed, offering their final blessings to the esteemed Mrs. Miranda. Their arrival made the manor more lively, but beneath that liveliness lay an unspeakable sorrow.
Miranda's passing undoubtedly stirred a ripple in this aristocratic society. However, behind the solemn and dignified funeral, however, lay a series of hypocritical faces.
In reality, everything that had just happened was a facade, a performance for show.
The courtyard, which should have been filled with sorrow, was instead filled with an unreal extravagance. Countless pots of blooming flowers lined the long aisle, each seemingly carefully chosen to showcase the owner's wealth. However, these vibrant flowers seemed incongruous with the deceased's peace, more like a ostentatious feast of extravagance.
All of this was Liang Di's doing.
At the end of the aisle stood a massive black marble tombstone, intricately carved with patterns and inscriptions. However, the coldness of the tombstone contrasted sharply with the surrounding hypocritical bustle. Guests arrived in an endless stream, their faces bearing false smiles, offering flattery to Liang Di, but none truly showing grief for the deceased.
Except for Edwin.
He wept bitterly, his emotions overflowing.
He stood beside the coffin, his hands gripping its edges tightly, as if trying to hold onto the life that was about to vanish. His eyes were red and swollen, tears streaming down his face, soaking his cheeks. His shoulders trembled, each sob seeming to pour out all the grief in his heart.
His face held no feigned smile, no cold expression, only endless sorrow and grief. His tears weren't for show, nor to win sympathy; they were genuine, heartfelt sorrow. He couldn't accept his mother's death, couldn't accept this cruel reality.
Even if he was despicable, even foolish, he was still a mother's child; it was his mother who died.
To be honest, Liang Lin felt a pang of sympathy, but still wore a wicked smile.
"Serves him right."
"Cry, cry as miserably as possible."
Liang Lin stared at Edwin's retreating figure, her laughter growing increasingly maniacal, even pointing and bursting into laughter.
To pity someone who hurt you in the past is despicable.
Inside the mourning hall, the atmosphere was even more eerie and hypocritical. A magnificent coffin, draped in deep purple velvet, sat in the center, exuding solemnity and mystery. However, the guests surrounding it seemed more concerned with their own image; dressed in splendid gowns and adorned with expensive jewelry, they vied to display their elegance before the coffin.
Around the funeral parlor hung portraits of Mrs. Miranda. These portraits were either dignified or elegant. Yet, behind these false smiles lay endless indifference and hypocrisy. Guests stepped forward to pay their respects, but their eyes lacked genuine reverence and remembrance.
The guests were the most hypocritical presence at this funeral. Some had received "favors" from Mrs. Miranda, yet forgot these "kindnesses" after her death; others had come to curry favor with the powerful and wealthy, their faces bearing false smiles, their hearts devoid of sorrow.
One noblewoman in particular drew everyone's attention. She wore a magnificent gown and dazzling jewels; her smile was radiant yet insincere.
She stood before the coffin, feigning tears, yet a gleam of schadenfreude shone in her eyes. She wasn't genuinely grieving for the deceased, but rather secretly rejoiced at her impending replacement as a noblewoman.
A young knight, clad in silver armor and wielding a longsword, appeared valiant and fearless. However, his eyes betrayed a coldness and hypocrisy. He wasn't truly saddened by Lady Miranda's passing, but rather viewed the funeral as an opportunity to display his own heroic image.
The funeral service began. The priest, Bible in hand, began reading the eulogy. However, his voice lacked genuine sorrow and respect, sounding more like a perfunctory formality. The guests bowed in silent mourning, but their hearts were filled with hypocrisy and indifference.
After the eulogy, the guests began to offer flowers. The flowers in their hands were beautiful, but lacked true emotion. They weren't genuinely mourning Mrs. Miranda; they were treating the funeral as a social occasion, an opportunity to display their status and wealth.
Just as the ceremony was drawing to a close, a light drizzle began to fall. The rain soaked the guests' gowns and jewelry, but they seemed unconcerned. They opened their umbrellas, maintaining their feigned smiles and mannerisms. The rain didn't add a trace of sorrow to the funeral; instead, it made the entire scene more hypocritical and absurd.
As the guests departed, the manor returned to its tranquility. However, after this sham funeral, the people's remembrance and sorrow for Mrs. Miranda seemed to have been forgotten within this hypocritical mansion.
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