Chapter 173: Winter Funeral

"Before she died, Art Bubicek wanted everyone to attend her funeral. She did a bunch of crazy things to make sure of it."

Alan jumped in quickly.

"Winter Funeral" is a play by Hanoch Levin, directed by Yair Sherman. 

Alan and I watched it ages ago. I don't remember much since I'm not really into plays, but the main character's obsession with having everyone at her funeral stuck with me.

At that moment, I couldn't help but glance at Laura. 

This was the third time I'd seen her—once at our wedding, once in court, and now here. 

Each time, she was as wild and self-centered as ever. Everything I'd heard about her from others confirmed that Laura was a complete lunatic.

But why did she bring up "Winter Funeral"? 

The plot had some similarities to Ronald's ideas. Was it just a coincidence, or had she planned this all along?

Alan said, "Hanoch Levin's reflections on life and death are really deep. I've watched it many times, and every line feels perfect."

"Playwrights create fiction. They might do research, gather inspiration, and interview people to craft a good story, but it's still fake. Like a bottle of soda or a glass of strong liquor—too much gives you a headache. If you keep at it, you might become the greatest playwright. We've experienced enough."

Laura spoke slowly, taking off her shoes and walking barefoot towards us with her arms outstretched like a dancer.

"Writing is about gaining something, but I've already gained enough. Writing is a kind of pain, a fiction. I gave it up to do something real, to save myself and others."

Alan smiled bitterly and squeezed my hand.

"True, there's nothing to cling to in this world. Walking barefoot shows you're not tied to worldly matters. We come from the earth and must return to it. Everyone wants to escape, but I refuse. I want to roll in the dirt, live freely, for those I love and for myself."

Laura glanced at Ronald and asked, "Why don't you take off your shoes and feel the ground? It's a great feeling."

Ronald's face turned pale as he stared at Laura, lost in thought.

"Laura, you've done a lot of wrong things over the years," Alan sighed.

Laura widened her eyes and nodded obediently, agreeing with Alan. 

I was stunned. The wild Laura actually agreed with Alan without any resistance.

"Walking barefoot means I can touch the flowers, the rain, the soft mud, but also the dirt and filth. I choose to roll in the world, but that doesn't mean I submit to it. I don't submit to my parents' gender biases or their betrayal. I accept everything, good or bad, and..."

Laura took a step forward, twirling her skirt. Her red dress billowed in the wind as she turned and struck a pose. "I trample it all underfoot!"

Laura was never truly crazy. In a way, she was another Ronald, a self-centered maniac. 

I looked at her, still stunningly beautiful, making even me, a woman, feel moved. Her features and figure seemed to be the epitome of divine favor, without a single flaw. Time hadn't touched her face.

But now, she looked pale, almost sickly. 

Was she ill?

Alan seemed to sense my thoughts and shook his head gently, his expression filled with pain and reluctance.

After a moment, Alan's lips trembled as he spoke hoarsely, "But why do you always hide your true feelings from those who truly love you? Why torture yourself like this?"

Laura adjusted her dress and walked up to Alan, ignoring me completely. She raised her head proudly to meet Alan's gaze, like a stubborn witch.

"My parents had a boy when I was little and sold me, saying a girl was useless. I remembered that. Over the years, countless men and even women have bowed to me. I wanted to be the most powerful woman, and I did it. Wealthy and powerful men begged for my love like dogs. Whether I accepted or rejected them was my gift to them."

"But those who gave me my fate couldn't have it easy. I burned down their house and listened to their cries. I told Douglas to come with me, and he agreed to give me his life and everything. If that fire didn't kill them, their son would disappear in another fire."

"A simple story, not too painful. No one can understand. I almost froze to death on the streets one winter, like a stray dog. I knocked on doors, but no one answered. Two boys found me. One gave me his bread, the other his coat. They were the most important men in my life."

Alan sighed, his voice choked with emotion.

Laura bent down and looked at Frank, who hadn't spoken in a while. "Open your eyes and look at me."

Frank kept his eyes closed, breathing steadily as if he had fainted.

"Don't you hate me? Why don't you have the courage to open your eyes? You won't die. How could you?"

Laura gently stroked Frank's cheek. "Foolish man, why do you always long for a woman? You shouldn't be like this."

Frank didn't open his eyes, but tears fell silently, his breathing mixed with sobs.

"I know what you're thinking. I never told you what I was thinking when we broke up."

Laura smiled. "I suddenly understand why Ronald divorced Erica."

Behind her, Ronald let out a series of cold laughs, muttering "Good" under his breath.

"Open your eyes, and I'll tell you a secret."

Laura rested her head on Frank's legs, smiling. "I've always loved you. My blood flows in your veins. You won't die. Go and enjoy the world I've walked through, foolish man."