Chapter 4 Little Qian

  So Wu Yongsheng stayed at my place that night. I gave him the key to Room 1, and Old Wu took the cup of water upstairs.

  I shook my head, and this week's first business was already losing money. I don't know what the situation is with Wu Yongsheng and his wife. The survival pressure of middle-aged people is great, and the divorce rate and suicide rate are high. Of course, whether he and his wife get divorced or not is none of my business, but I absolutely cannot let him commit suicide here. Not to mention anything else, I'm not brave enough myself, if he dies here, I'll be in trouble! I have to find an opportunity to get his wife's phone number and make a call!

  In June, it doesn't get completely dark until after 9 pm. I sat in the lobby watching TV and smoking two cigarettes, but even at 12 pm, I still couldn't sleep. This year's Dragon Gate Inn has been open for a while now, and my schedule has become irregular. Sometimes I have to get up at 4 or 5 am to receive guests. The pay is 100 yuan per night, with an 85% discount, which is even more miserable than being a prostitute.

  Just as I was about to go back to the counter to gather my things and head upstairs to lie down, I suddenly heard someone softly say: "Hey."

  I was startled and hastily lifted my head, only to see a girl standing in front of the counter, wearing a strange-looking skirt with a pretty melon-shaped face, long bangs that almost covered her eyes, and hair falling down her shoulders. She stood there, elegant and classical, but strangely: she was clearly close to me yet I couldn't make out her features, as if she were shrouded in mist, making it impossible for me to see her clearly. Moreover, I had a strange feeling that her body was very light, as if a single breath could blow her away.

  "When did you come in? Why didn't I hear a sound?" I complained without even greeting him.

  She lowered her head and apologized: "I'm sorry."

  "Never mind, are you waiting for a bus or someone?"

  She said in a very small voice: "I... I want to stay with you for a few days."

  I heard there was a "big business" and I thought it would be exciting, but then I started to worry: this little girl looks like she's no more than 20 years old, doesn't wait for people or cars, wants to come to my place to "stay for a few days", isn't she just a rebellious teenager who ran away from home?

  I carefully asked: "Little sister, how old are you?"

  She suddenly lifted her head, revealing a pair of bright eyes and curved fine eyebrows, indeed a pretty little girl. She said timidly: "Are you asking for actual age or virtual age?"

  "Does it make a difference? How old are you actually?"

  She lowered her head again: "Seventeen."

  At 17, shouldn't they have already passed the rebellious phase? When we were 17, holding hands with a female classmate was considered a huge taboo. Now, kids are kissing on the streets and teachers turn a blind eye. What more do they want?

  I didn't dare ask again, after all, a 17-year-old is also a person with capacity for behavior, asking again would seem like prying into their privacy. I could only say: "How many days do you plan to stay?"

  "Maybe," she said softly.

  "Oh, a standard room is 100 yuan per day, I'll give you a discount to 85... forget it, 80 yuan per day, no cheating!" I'm afraid she might run into Wu Yongsheng...

  Her eyes widened: "Money?"

  "Ah, money." I felt embarrassed again, looking at her expression more confused than Old Wu. It seems that when I open a restaurant, I shouldn't mention money and must be enthusiastic and hospitable, treating money like dirt, like an old fellow countryman. But I have a legitimate business license, and besides, are there still people who treat money like dirt?

  She spread her hands: "But I have no money."

  I: "……" My reaction is no longer as intense as it was during the day, I have to say that human adaptability is terrifying. If it weren't for Old Wu's torment for a whole day, I might have blown up again. But now I'm very calm and collected, and I've already prepared myself to answer her next question, such as "What do you want money for?"

  "How much do you think this is worth?" She took off a pair of earrings from her ears, each pendant hanging with a small piece of emerald green stone. She slowly placed them in my palm, and I felt that her fingers were colder than the stones.

  I took a glance, and the earrings seemed quite heavy, apparently valuable, but I'm clueless about this stuff, and jade doesn't have a fixed price either. Sometimes it's one or two hundred, sometimes three pairs for ten bucks with a paper box, anyway, they're all just stones.

  I put them on the table and said, "Sister, my brother runs a restaurant, not a pawnshop. I can't accept this." This is the first mix-and-match in history, but it's not the most chaotic one without a door handle.

  "That... sorry." She seemed to want to say something, but didn't in the end. She picked up the earrings and walked out of the door with a quiet "yum", even helping me close the door behind her. Then she sat down on the steps outside, propping up her cheek with one hand and gazing up at the moon in the sky.

  I collapsed again! We were taught by the same master, not allowed to live in and just sit quietly? She's a young girl, what can I do with her sitting here at midnight? There are all kinds of people around the train station, if something happens to her at my doorstep, I'll be known as a heartless person: A weak and gentle girl suffered a terrible fate, where is the conscience of this black-hearted shop owner? Next time that taxi driver sees me, he'll still have to shake hands with me...

  She sat there for more than half an hour, I saw that she didn't seem to want to leave, so I took a cigarette from the pack, walked out and squatted beside her, lit it up, and asked in a familiar tone: "Had a falling out with your family?"

  "Ah?" She was startled and then discovered me.

  "Is that with your boyfriend?" I thought she was just in this kind of situation, either being promiscuous or having a broken heart. Nowadays, girls wouldn't possibly run away from home for something as trivial as losing their virginity.

  "Neither is."

  "Isn't your family worried with you going out so late?"

  She gazed at me with a hint of resentment and said, "Everyone in my family is dead."

  "Sister, this is where you're wrong. If you want to be stubborn, then be stubborn, but how can you curse your parents?"

  She glared at me angrily this time.

  "......Isn't he really dead?"

  The girl's eyes turned red and she stopped talking again.

  I immediately regretted it and quickly comforted her: "Don't cry, don't cry, what's the big deal if we don't have money? Come on in with me." As I went to pull her along, she subconsciously dodged to the side, then smoothed out her clothes and bowed slightly to thank me: "Thank you."

  I was stunned and thought to myself: Is this girl addicted to watching ancient costume dramas or what? What kind of pose is she striking at a time like this?

  As I entered the main hall, I asked her: "Are you hungry?"

  Her face turned red, but she didn't say a word. I knew she was embarrassed. I took the initiative to cook her a bowl of instant noodles and put it on the dining table: "Make do with this, I don't have a chef."

  She gave me a shy smile, then floated over to the table from the doorway - her long skirt trailed on the ground, and you could hardly see her legs moving as she walked, it was as if she had floated over. She picked up her chopsticks and examined them for a while, picking up a few strands of noodles to study them, as if she had never seen instant noodles before. In the end, hunger overcame her shyness, and she brought the chopsticks with noodles on them to her mouth, but didn't open it. She brought the noodles to her nose and smelled them for a long time, then put the original few strands of noodles back in the bowl, and picked up another strand of noodles to continue smelling at her nose...

  I looked at it in great puzzlement and couldn't help but say: "It doesn't taste right?"

  "She slightly hesitated and said: 'No, it's very delicious.'"

  "Why don't you eat then?"

  "I'm eating."

  "You... go on."

  Then she continued to smell, and the funny thing was that her way of smelling noodles was exactly the same as ours when we eat them: first pick out a few strands of noodles and shake them off, then bring them up to her nose to sniff, looking very serious, but without moving her mouth at all. Finally, after she had smelled every last strand in the bucket, she stuck her nose into the bowl to take a whiff of the soup inside, then pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her mouth, saying "I'm full."

  "You eat... then go sleep, this is the key for room 2. By the way, sis, can I have your ID for registration? Just in case there's an inspection."

  "ID card?" She hesitated for a moment and said: "No."

  I've started admiring my own foresight: these two are indeed taught by the same master. I weakly waved my hand: "Go."

  She flashed a smile at me and floated upstairs. When she reached the stairs, I asked loudly: "Hey girl, what's your name?"

  After a moment of silence, two words floated faintly from around the corner of the stairs: "Xiao Qian."

  I responded with a grunt, starting to clean up and prepare for bed. The bucket of noodles was still sitting on the dining table, and Xiaoxian had stirred it for half the day but hadn't even taken a bite. Just then my stomach started growling loudly in the middle of the night, so I sat down, picked up a big mouthful of noodles with my chopsticks, and muttered to myself as I stuffed them into my mouth: "This is really delicious...".

  I couldn't utter a single word afterwards, because I was horrified to discover that the noodles had no flavor at all. It wasn't the kind of blandness from clear broth or light seasoning, but a thorough lack of any texture or sensation - not sour, sweet, bitter, or spicy, nor was it the soft and smooth feeling of plain white noodles. Instead, it felt like chewing on foam plastic that had been soaked in water.

  I threw up everything with the first mouthful! The soup didn't taste good at all after sucking it in again.

  I was stunned for half a day before muttering: "No wonder that girl didn't eat..." But soon I discovered that it wasn't right, Xiao Qian hadn't noticed the opportunity to taste the bad noodles. Could she smell it out? I also sniffed my nose and vaguely still had a hint of instant noodle flavor, but much lighter than usual. With my rich experience of eating instant noodles, I can accurately distinguish whether this noodle is 82-year-old Kangshifu braised beef noodle or 97-year-old Fuman Duo sour cabbage rib noodle - the sound of diarrhea after eating them is different...

  But one thing I can be certain of is that there isn't any kind of noodle in the world that tastes like this naturally.

  Kangshifu has launched a convenient noodle product with a flavor similar to hot pot?

  I couldn't help but throw it in the trash, and then suddenly felt that the name of the girl just now was a bit familiar - Xiao Qian, wasn't she the female ghost played by Joey Wong?

  Then my mind automatically filtered out some unimportant factors and left only two words: Female Ghost!

  Thinking of that instant noodle with a web-like flavor and Xiao Qian's "ethereal" gait, I shuddered inexplicably...

  Division line

  Xiao Qian has arrived, how far is the old demon of Hei Shan? Who does she love and who does she hate? Who stirred up the last ring of her heart's annual rings? Who can take away her fiery red lips?

  Xiao Hua's road is really wide, not writing humor can also write horror, not writing horror can also go to the knowledgeable tone.

  Again divided again cut

  Can you guys give me a bit more recommendation votes? The new book just started, let's make it a bit more terrifying, and scare those big shots...