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墨書 Inktalez
Lo Ye looked at the spicy hot pot placed on the driver's seat and suddenly found it amusing for some reason.
He searched for the location of the dealership and was relieved to find that he still had two hours and forty-five minutes to reach his destination.
After finally enjoying the spicy hot pot he had been craving, He Shuning felt satisfied. After washing up, she had no idea how much time had passed when she threw herself into the blanket, surrounded by its warmth. Breathing in the faint scent of laundry detergent, she felt a sense of calm wash over her. Images began to flicker in her mind, particularly of that kind man who had been eating plain hot pot. Yes, very kind indeed.
As a public figure, she inevitably had to cultivate a certain persona and needed to embody some so-called admirable qualities. In this industry, she had encountered many renowned philanthropists and so-called anonymous donors, as well as stars who cared for their less fortunate fans. Some were genuinely sincere, while others were simply performing or engaging in false marketing. When she heard about them, she would offer genuine praise or return a smile of acknowledgment, but those thoughts never lingered in her mind. Yet now, she found herself repeatedly thinking about a stranger, magnifying his actions in her mind, even unconsciously enhancing the atmosphere around him. She felt he was so special and radiant.
She struggled to articulate that feeling, like encountering someone truly stunning and eagerly wanting to share it with those around her, saying, "Hey, did you know? I just met someone extraordinary..."
Realizing this, she decisively pulled the blanket off her head and clapped her hands against her cheeks, trying to shake off the drowsiness. It must have been the blanket covering her head that made it hard to breathe; the rising carbon dioxide must have made her dizzy and led to such bizarre thoughts.
Yes, that must be it.
She took out a sleeping pill, forcing herself to disconnect from her thoughts and drift into slumber.
The orange sunlight slowly crept in from beneath the windshield, its brightness gradually waking the man resting in the driver's seat.
He was covered with a black denim jacket, his eyes still hazy with sleep. The black short-sleeved shirt clung to his lean waist as he rubbed his face to wake himself up before opening the car door and heading toward the dealership that had just started its operations.
After exchanging his old car for a new one and handing over the previous vehicle for repairs, he returned to the hotel with the spicy hot pot in hand.
"Knock knock knock." The quiet surroundings made each knock sound particularly jarring. He didn't want to respond but found it impossible to ignore. Lum Ming kicked Lu Yuen on the other bed with his leg; however, there was no reaction. Glancing at his phone, he saw the glaring time: 6:45 AM displayed on the home screen. Throwing off the covers and getting out of bed, he felt like a volatile beast having an episode but also pitied his companion, hoping there was something particularly important to say.
"Uh, Brother Ye, you're up so early?" For a moment, I was at a loss for words, and my previously restless mood suddenly calmed down.
Lo Ye raised the spicy hot pot in his hand. "Yeah, this is your breakfast—spicy hot pot."
"Brother Ye, you went out to buy breakfast so early!" I felt a wave of deep gratitude wash over me.
"Can you still eat it? It was packed last night," he said, turning to head back to his room.
Leaving Lum Ming puzzled, wondering what he meant by "packed last night." Was the breakfast bought yesterday for today? Was he really that anxious?
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