Chapter 115 The Doorbell Rings (1/2)

In the dark basement, it is very quiet. Only the drip sound can be heard. Maybe it is because one of the taps is not tightly switched off or because the pipe in the wall breaks. The air in here smells musty and moist.

With only a lamp hung on the ceiling, the light appears rather dim.

There is no wallpaper on the wall or floor on the ground. The ground is only covered with cement. Under a wooden bed, there are bottles and jars that have labels of various beer brands. Some of the bottles are still filled of 1/5 of the liquid, which is mixed with the musty smell.

A man is lying on the bed, curling himself and shivering. His face is pale with sweat on the forehead. The sweat just looks like the steam on the pot cover when the water is boiling.

He seems to fall into a semicoma, calling a girl’s name non-stop.

His face is full of pains.

Even in such a state, he still has his sword placed next to him, as if only by doing so can he feel safe.

All of a sudden, he sits up from the bed.

His eyes are still full of fear. Yet, when he puts his hands on the sword, the fear in his eyes vanishes instantly and only resentment is left.

He struggles to climb from the bed with his two legs still trembling. It seems that it takes tremendous strength to support such a body.

He staggers towards the table and reaches out his hand to take up the glass on it. The water in the glass looks a bit muddy. No one knows how long the water has been kept there. However, he seemingly can’t care about that now so he just pours the water into his throat.

Having put down the glass, he places his two palms against the table and gasping heavily with his sweat dripping along his chin.

The table is also covered with a layer of dust. Yet, only the photo frame on the table is clean and tidy.

The girl in the photo, wearing a white dress, has a sweet look with her head slightly tilted and her hand placed upon the forehead as if she is trying to block the sun. Her pure smile is very infectious.

With a pale face and dry lips, the man is laughing reluctantly while opening his mouth.

He reaches out his hand to take up the photo frame.

He kisses on the photo across the glass.

Then his face is changed again.

He covers his chest with one hand.

He is shivering even faster.

The energy in his body is being rapidly drained just like the water in the pond.

Crack.

The photo frame in his hand drops on the ground, leaving the glass broken into pieces. The man falls down, making a noise of “Bang”!

He is dizzy as if the world were spinning around.

When the man reopens his eyes, he finds that his surroundings are greatly changed.

There is a still lamp, a soft quilt and a smell of detergent.

He suddenly sits up from the bed. He doesn’t feel relieved until he finds that his sword stays with him.

Thwack! The door is pushed open.

Gao Ge in a night-robe waves at him, holding a cup of hot coffee on the other hand.

“You are awake?”

When the man sees Gao Ge, his pupils instantly shrink and then he quickly grasps the sword.

“Enough. If I really want to kill you, you are already dead.” Gao Ge says impatiently.

The man is still holding the sword tightly but on second thought, he agrees to what Gao Ge said.

In terms of his current situation, if Gao Ge wants to kill him, he should be brought to the crematory now.

“Let me introduce myself. My name is Gao Ge, which means singing loudly.” After saying that, Gao Ge takes a sip of coffee and makes a click, thinking that he may be tricked by the waiter, who told him that it was Civet coffee. Crap, it doesn’t taste like civet at all.

“Why am I here?”

“Can people actually live in the place where you stayed?” Gao Ge asks.

The man doesn’t answer.

“You are Mo Ran, right?”