Famine

Chapitre 19

Mr. Wang stood dumbfounded in the elevator, feeling an unprecedented sense of relief. How to describe it? He had undergone major surgery to remove a tumor, and after years of hard work, he had paid off his bank loan. In short, he had unloaded a heavy burden. This feeling was truly exhilarating. His first paycheck, his first driver's license, his first kiss, his first time making love... none of the memorable moments in his life could compare to this!

Mr. Wang was reveling in this feeling until the elevator dinged – oh no! It had reached the 36th floor, the floor where his company was located. Mr. Wang frantically pressed the close button to stop the doors from opening, but the elevator doors still opened.

Fortunately, there was no one outside. Mr. Wang pressed the close button again, and the elevator doors closed once more. He quickly pulled his underwear and trousers back into place, zipped them up, fastened his belt, and put on his shirt. If this were a fashion contest, Mr. Wang would definitely win.

Ding! The elevator arrived at the 39th floor. The doors opened, and four or five people were waiting for the elevator outside. They saw a man with a flushed face, panting heavily as he finished buttoning the last two buttons of his shirt. He had a suit jacket draped over his shoulder, glanced at them, and immediately lowered his head before stepping out of the elevator.

"Sir, you dropped something!" someone called out to him. Mr. Wang turned around and saw the can of fine Tieguanyin tea and a kraft paper document bag with the J Group logo printed on it lying on the elevator floor.

"Thank you!" Mr. Wang picked up the tea canister and the document bag at the same time. The people next to him were a little puzzled because the hem of Mr. Wang's shirt was completely exposed, and there were obvious wrinkles at the waist. In a business building with strict dress codes, no one would dress like that. The hem should be tucked into the pants.

In the restroom on the 39th floor, Mr. Wang tucked the hem of his shirt into his pants, stood in front of the mirror and carefully checked himself over to make sure there was nothing wrong, then threw the brown paper document bag into the trash can.

Dressed impeccably, Mr. Wang did not take the elevator but walked down the dark stairwell to his company on the 36th floor, where he threw himself into his afternoon work with great enthusiasm.

Du Yaofeng peeked out of his office and through the blinds, he could see everything in President Wang's office. President Wang was arranging a work schedule with his secretary, Xiao Lan, looking radiant. Du Yaofeng found it strange. About 45 minutes earlier, President Wang had left the company looking ashen and walking mechanically. Such a stark contrast in such a short time. Could it be that he had already…

In this 45-story office building with over 200 companies and more than 5,000 employees, how could he solve that problem? Du Yaofeng's thinking stalled.

Xiao Lan left President Wang's office and walked briskly over, knocking on the partition to wake Du Yaofeng from his reverie.

"Sister Feng, Boss Wang wants to see you."

Du Yaofeng stood up and nervously walked into General Manager Wang's office. General Manager Wang glanced up at her, pointed to the sofa, and said, "Take it away."

The painting was placed on the sofa, already encased in a protective sleeve, leaving Du Yaofeng somewhat at a loss.

"Mr. Wang... the contents of the text message are not a joke, they are absolutely true. Please take it seriously and do not ignore it, otherwise 'that thing' will happen tonight, and it will be a matter of life and death!"

Mr. Wang glanced at her again, said nothing more, and smiled faintly: "I know what to do. Take the painting away, and don't let me see it again."

Seeing his confident demeanor, Du Yaofeng didn't say anything more and took the painting away.

Just before leaving get off work, Xiaolan came back from outside and told everyone some shocking news: that afternoon, someone encountered an exhibitionist in the elevator. Angela, who works at a company on the 30th floor, happened to be in that elevator and witnessed it firsthand.

"Who is that guy?" someone asked.

"I don't know, I was so focused on what was exposed on him that I didn't notice his face..."

More and more people are now into showing skin, and you can feel this trend just by looking at girls' clothing. Tops are getting shorter and shorter, waistbands are getting lower and lower, and the area exposed—cleavage, navel, groin—is getting larger and larger. The extent of exposure is like a stock index, constantly hitting new lows; if you can show ten millimeters, you'll never show nine. Some predict that in ten years, the most popular clothing will be "The Emperor's New Clothes"—completely naked.

Oil painting No. 51: 773 Horror Series 13

Section 43: The First Rays of Dawn in the Millennium

Everyone started discussing it amongst themselves.

Mr. Wang called Xiaolan into his office and casually asked, "Did you catch that guy?"

"Angela called security, and they went to check, but the guy had already disappeared inside the building."

Upon hearing Xiaolan's answer, President Wang chuckled inwardly.

If I put my clothes back on, even if I stand in front of them again, they might not recognize me.

Wearing it or not makes a huge difference in the visual effect!

Mr. Wang handed the box of premium Tieguanyin tea to Xiaolan: "Here, give this to your dad. It's Tieguanyin tea I bought downstairs."

"Thank you, Mr. Wang. My dad loves Tieguanyin tea!"

Watching Xiaolan's happy figure disappear into the distance, President Wang thought to himself: Even if they trace it back to me, I will deny everything. What can they do to me?

In the end, it's just being naked once, right? If you escape this ordeal, you might even become addicted to being naked!

From now on, whenever I'm in a bad mood, just have the courage to take off my clothes, and I guarantee it will have an immediate effect, making me feel refreshed. It's not just about shedding physical burdens, but also about removing the shackles from my mind. I suggest psychologists prescribe this "naked prescription" to their patients; it might even have a miraculous effect than medication! Hahaha!

After get off work, Mr. Wang and everyone else took the elevator downstairs, chatting and laughing. As they left the building, Mr. Wang found himself drawn back into the high-mountain tea shop. He wasn't there to taste the tea; he was there specifically to see that nose.

"Off work? Mr. Wang!"

The tea ceremony hostess was a little surprised. This was the first time Mr. Wang had visited twice in one day. Could he be here to complain about the quality of the tea?

Mr. Wang looked at her with a smile. Strangely, that nose didn't seem so hateful anymore; it even added a touch of cuteness.

"What time do you get off work?" Mr. Wang asked directly.

"Seven o'clock... what's wrong... you..." the tea ceremony hostess asked timidly.

There's a Dai Mei Hot Pot restaurant nearby. Do you like spicy hot pot?

Mr. Wang extended the invitation directly, completely ignoring the strange looks from the other tea ceremony attendants.

The hotpot meal lasted an hour and a half, during which they chatted happily, and Mr. Wang complimented her nose a few times.

The tea ceremony hostess's name is Xiaofang, and she comes from a small seaside town called Shitang in Zhejiang. At the turn of the millennium, geographers and meteorologists unanimously recognized the town as the first place on the entire mainland to see the first rays of dawn of the new millennium, which triggered a tourism boom. Tourists carrying backpacks and cameras flocked to the town from all over the country. Television stations, radio stations, and newspapers all sent large teams to conduct on-site interviews, making this once quiet seaside town quite popular for a while. All the hotels were fully booked, and every household in the town turned into a family-run guesthouse, charging 100 yuan per bed per day, making a fortune in the "millennium."

Now, everything has returned to calm.

Xiaofang's words were very practical. Even if we saw the first ray of dawn of the new millennium, so what? Those who went bankrupt would still go bankrupt, those who got sick would still get sick, those who got divorced would still get divorced, and those who suffered from carbon monoxide poisoning would still suffer from carbon monoxide poisoning.

Having lived in Shanghai for over three years, I've gotten used to life in a big city. I can basically understand Shanghainese and even speak a few words of it.

Hello, have you had your picnic yet?

I ran into a bastard today (I saw a ghost today!), you're going to kick the bucket! (Go to hell!)

The first two sentences are a greeting, the last two sentences are an insult.

Xiaofang shares a two-bedroom apartment with two girlfriends. The apartment is fairly spacious, but girls living together inevitably have some minor conflicts over time. They even have to mark their shampoo bottles to prevent others from using them, which Xiaofang finds very distasteful.

Xiao Fang ate while complaining, and Mr. Wang listened and ate, occasionally chiming in. By the time they left the hot pot restaurant, they were quite intimate. Xiao Fang linked arms with Mr. Wang, and they strolled around the Pacific Department Store in Xujiahui. Mr. Wang bought her a pair of Clarks sandals, which, even after the discount, cost over 700 RMB—the most expensive pair of shoes in Xiao Fang's collection. As they left the department store, Mr. Wang noticed that Xiao Fang's arm around him was even stronger.

The two got into a taxi and drove straight to Mr. Wang's apartment.

Xiao Fang rested her head on his shoulder, gazing at the dazzling lights rushing past the car window, her face filled with rapture.

For Xiaofang, lacking any special skills or striking looks, yet captivated by big-city life, the best solution was to find a man to rely on, even one with a family, like Mr. Wang, whose wife and children were in Shenzhen while he struggled alone in Shanghai. No matter how busy he was at work, he would feel lonely after work. Such a man was far more reliable than those immature young men.

Mr. Wang admitted that normally, he, who was fairly discreet about his private life, would not bring a girl home after just one date. But tonight was different. He was particularly excited, feeling like he had narrowly escaped death and averted disaster. He wanted to enjoy life and women, even if she had an annoying nose.

Mr. Wang's apartment is in Hongkou District, near the North Bund. Standing on the balcony on the twelfth floor, you can see the winding Huangpu River, feel the night breeze blowing along the river, and hear the ship horns. The monthly rent for the two-bedroom apartment is $1,300, but thankfully the company pays for it.

After entering the apartment and washing his hands in the bathroom, Mr. Wang couldn't wait to push Xiaofang onto the sofa in the living room.

Afterwards, Xiaofang was a little unsettled, afraid of getting pregnant. Mr. Wang said apologetically, "If you had told me earlier that I was in my fertile period these past two days, I would definitely have worn a condom. I'm so sorry."

He said that, but he was secretly pleased, as if he had gotten a good deal.

Are there any pharmacies nearby?

"Yes, there's one right across the street. It's open 24 hours, and it has a green cross sign hanging at the entrance, which is very eye-catching."

Just to be on the safe side, Xiaofang decided to buy emergency contraceptive pills. She grabbed her wallet and left in a hurry.

Mr. Wang collapsed onto the sofa, savoring the exhilarating moments. Those ten minutes felt like half a football match; his back ached, and he hadn't felt this kind of passion in a long time. This past Spring Festival, his wife and children had come from Shenzhen to visit him in Shanghai; absence makes the heart grow fonder, but even then, it wasn't this intense.

Oil painting No. 51: 773 Horror Series 13

Section 44: Wildflowers and cultivated flowers are indeed different.

Mr. Wang lay on the sofa, thinking, "Why don't I keep Xiaofang by my side long-term?"

No, no, this girl seems enthusiastic on the surface, but she's actually quite calculating. If I weren't Mr. Wang, but Master Wang washing teacups at the tea shop, would she still be with me? Let's observe her for a while before making a decision.

After showering, Xiaofang still hadn't returned. Mr. Wang turned on the TV; the news channel was airing a drama series, another anti-corruption drama, with similar plots. First, they set the story in a fictional city, like Binzhou or Dongjiang. Mainland films and television shows are all like this; even though they're clearly filmed in Shanghai, including the Oriental Pearl Tower and the Bund, they insist it's "Donghai City," afraid someone will try to identify with the real-life locations. This is the tragedy of Chinese artists; unlike Hollywood, no one interferes.

Since it's about fighting corruption and promoting integrity, there must be a corrupt official, a bad apple, like the mayor of this fictional city. But note that the city's Party Secretary is definitely a good person, but even good people can make mistakes, and even tigers can doze off. The Party Secretary went to the Party School in Beijing for a year-long study session, creating a power vacuum. The mayor took advantage of this to stir up trouble, ostracizing good people and promoting bad ones, even colluding with organized crime to engage in smuggling, bribery, and power-money transactions. The repeated occurrences of this situation in the city attracted the attention of the provincial leadership, who then dispatched a working group. The head of the working group is the male lead of this drama. He has a tragic past, and returning to the city is like reopening old wounds. However, he understands the greater good and resolutely returns to declare war on the bad guys and evil forces. Furthermore, a former lover from ten years ago reappeared in the vortex of the struggle. This former lover, perhaps now the mistress of a triad boss, became an obstacle in his path. Thus, the former lover became the current enemy. At this time, the municipal party secretary, who had been studying at the Party School in Beijing, returned and clashed with the work group leader. The party secretary mistakenly believed the work group was deliberately trying to find fault, attempting to negate his contributions to the city's reform and opening-up achievements, and to diminish his prestige. This led to friction. Of course, the misunderstanding was eventually resolved. The party secretary and the work group leader joined forces to sweep away corrupt officials, including the deputy mayor, deputy secretary, and deputy bureau chief—note that there were as many deputy officials as possible. The major corrupt official—the mayor—was placed under investigation and dismissed from his post. The triads, cornered, retaliated fiercely. The former lover, protecting the work group leader, fell to the smoking gun of the triad boss, lying in the protagonist's arms, closing her eyes sadly. The protagonist, filled with the bittersweet feeling of "success in career, failure in love," left the city. The municipal party secretary repented and reinstated the innocent man who had been framed. The reform and opening-up situation was very promising, and the new chapters were beginning to emerge.

After watching too many TV dramas like this, Mr. Wang could become a screenwriter too.

Mr. Wang opened a bottle of French dry red wine and poured two full glasses. He opened the refrigerator, took out a box of ice cubes, and wanted to put two ice cubes in the red wine, but he was surprised to find that all the ice cubes had frozen together, forming an ice lump the size of a fist. This had never happened before. Strange!

After much effort, Mr. Wang finally managed to dig out the ice block, put it in the kitchen sink, and let it melt slowly. Then he took out the ice cube tray, refilled it with water, and made fresh ice cubes. Just as he closed the freezer drawer, he heard a sound coming from the living room.

"Beep...du...ta..."

He knew that sound all too well; it was from his phone, alerting him to a new message. He went back to the living room, took out his PDA-sized phone, and sure enough, there was a message with only two words:

"Open the door"

Mr. Wang was taken aback. Could there be someone outside the door?

Ding-dong, ding-dong, the doorbell rang. Looks like someone really is home.

Mr. Wang walked to the foyer and, as usual, looked through the peephole at the door—it was her.

Mr. Wang opened the security door, greeted them with a smile, and the two shared a light kiss.

"Why did it take you so long?"

"There's a convenience store next to the pharmacy. I bought two skewers of meatballs and fish balls. Your hand sanitizer in the bathroom is almost gone, so I bought a bottle too."

Mr. Wang took the shopping bag from Xiao Fang's hand, and a warm feeling welled up in his heart.

Although her nose is unattractive, she is quite shrewd, unlike some girls who are petty and always expect men to pay for their taxi fares.

As Mr. Wang closed the security door, Xiaofang's nose suddenly twitched. "Do you smell something?"

Mr. Wang sniffed the air around him and indeed there was a strange smell.

"Take Dettol disinfectant, for example. During the SARS outbreak, the tea shop used this brand of disinfectant every day to wipe tables and chairs, and even used it to mop the floor. The expenses were astonishing."

Mr. Wang couldn't explain why there was a sudden smell of disinfectant in his house. Maybe the hallway had just been disinfected and the smell drifted in with the wind when he opened the door.

Xiaofang went to take a shower and asked Mr. Wang to scrub her back. As the soap slid across her smooth, pink skin, Mr. Wang couldn't help but have impure thoughts. Compared to his wife's fleshy back, this alluring back felt so much better.

Little elf, you really know how to flirt...

"Hey, just now at your door, I felt a chill, like standing at the entrance of a cold storage room. Isn't that strange?" Xiaofang said casually.

Mr. Wang seemed to be listening but not really, his hand sliding down her back, slowly moving towards her chest...

*Slap!* My hand was lightly slapped and slid off my skin.

"Don't touch me. I'm going to take a shower. You can leave now."

Mr. Wang chuckled, washed the soap off his hands, dried them with a towel, and left the bathroom.

After finishing the dry red wine, Mr. Wang lay on the bed in the bedroom. Perhaps he was used to drinking dry red wine with ice, which was like diluting it with water. Tonight, without ice, the alcohol was a bit stronger, and he felt a little dizzy.

The sound of a shower running could be heard from the bathroom, along with Xiaofang's singing; she was singing Na Ying's "Conquer":

"Just like that, I was conquered by you, I drank the poison you hid, my story has come to an end, my love and hate are buried in the earth..."

Who conquered whom? Maybe it was your nose that conquered me...

In a daze, Mr. Wang actually laughed. Suddenly, something popped into his mind, a trivial matter: