В эпоху династии Сун вдовам было легко выйти замуж

Глава 5

Jack walked past the spacious "Golden Room" bar and peered inside. He realized he knew the place very well; with a light touch, all the lights switched on simultaneously from the main control panel. The bar was empty; fifty tables, draped with ornate tablecloths, stood vacant, awaiting the gentlemen and ladies of high society. Jack walked to the bar, sat down with practiced ease, and looking at the empty counter, a sense of despair washed over him.

“God, what can I trade for a drink?” Jack muttered to himself. He couldn’t go on without alcohol any longer. He needed the thrill of alcohol, that feeling of soaring to the heavens, forgetting everything. “I’ll give you my soul! Just for a drink,” Jack cried out in vain. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. If he could really have a drink, he would give up everything. In the darkness, Jack was momentarily disoriented. Where was he? What time was it? How could I— Jack opened his eyes and laughed. How could he have forgotten this? This was his favorite “Golden Room” bar. He smiled at the person in front of him.

"Hey Roy, not many people today, huh?" Jack joked, looking at the dozens of empty tables. "If no one comes to the bar, everyone's going to starve."

Bartender Roy stood behind the bar, smiling at Jack. "Yes, Mr. Talens, how are you feeling now?"

The liquor cabinet behind the bartender was now full of liquor. Under the light, the amber liquid refracted a crystal-clear light, a light that captivated Jack. This was the place that belonged to him.

“I’m so happy. I happen to have 60 yuan in my wallet, enough to last until next April.” Jack’s eyes shone with joy. “So here’s the deal, can you get me a bourbon? A small one on the rocks, okay? You’re not busy, are you?” Jack waited happily like a child.

“No, not in a hurry,” the bartender replied gently.

“Great.” The thought of that long-lost taste of alcohol made Jack’s whole body leap with joy. “A bourbon,” he pulled out his wallet, looked at it, and gave an awkward laugh. “Roy, I don’t think I have enough… How’s my credit here?” If he lost a drink that was already within his grasp, Jack would hate himself for the rest of his life.

"Mr. Tarrens, you have excellent credit." This means that Jack can enjoy the taste of alcohol without spending money.

“Okay!” Jack’s face lit up, his eyes fixed on the bourbon in the bartender’s hand. “I like you. You’re the best bartender. From Tiptoe, Portland, Maine, Oregon, you’re the best!”

"Thank you for your compliment," the bartender replied politely, finally handing the drink to Jack.

Jack took a satisfying sip of bourbon—he'd give up everything! The alcohol instantly cleared his head, but he didn't want to continue his foolish writing; he just wanted to stay here, drink, and chat like men to men.

“Damn it, I would never hit him, I wouldn’t! I wouldn’t even lay a finger on him, I love him to death. I would do anything for him, anything.” Jack said to the bartender. “But that bastard, she’ll never let me forget what happened! I hurt him… so what? It was an accident, it could happen to anyone!” Jack recalled hysterically. Yes, he had hurt him, if that could be called hurt. “It happened 3 years ago! That little bastard threw my manuscript all over the floor!” Jack was still angry at the sight of his hard work scattered everywhere. “I just wanted to help him up! I lost control for a moment, I mean, I used a little too much force, just a little bit.” Jack gestured to defend himself.

The bartender said nothing, just smiled at Jack.

Just then, Wendy's terrified scream came from outside. Jack's enjoyment of life was interrupted once again, and he lowered his head in frustration.

Wendy ran over with a baseball bat in hand, searching everywhere for Jack, her face streaked with tears. She ran into the Golden House bar and saw only Jack sitting at the counter, his hands empty.

(5)

“Thank God you’re here! There are other people in the hotel with us. There’s a crazy woman in one of the rooms who tried to strangle Danny!” Wendy cried, her words incoherent.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Jack said, spitting out each word as he glared angrily at Wendy.

Wendy knew she had wronged her husband, but she didn't hold his harsh words against him: "Really, I swear, Danny told me he ran into a room with the door open and saw that crazy woman in the bathtub, and she tried to strangle him!"

"Which room?" Jack asked.

The television was broadcasting news reports about this year's exceptionally severe blizzard. The old chef was enjoying his holiday in his warm home.

"Good evening, this is the 10 PM news. Miami is being hit by a winter heatwave, with temperatures reaching 90 degrees Fahrenheit, while Colorado has received 10 inches of snow in just a few hours tonight, making it almost impossible to reach the Los Angeles mountains. Airports are closed, thousands of passengers are stranded, highways are buried in snow, and railways are icy. According to Colorado state officials, at least three people have died in the blizzard. The governor of Colorado is preparing to issue an emergency weather warning. The National Protection Team may be deployed to clear roadblocks. According to the weather forecast, even heavier snow is expected tonight and tomorrow, with temperatures dropping below zero." The snowfall occurred in the area overlooking the hotel. This year's snowstorm has been exceptionally fierce, and clearing the snow next spring will be another arduous battle.

"In contrast, Florida will see increased humidity, and the beaches should be packed with people, according to the weather experts..." the television broadcast continued, but the old chef could hear nothing more.

A wave of intense fear washed over the old cook. He opened his eyes in terror and witnessed a horrifying sight…

Room 237, the door is open, the key is in the handle, and the table lamp is on as seen in the mirror by the door.

In his small room, Danny was also gripped by fear, trembling violently as if having a seizure, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. Like the old cook, he had witnessed what was about to happen in room 237. "Dad, don't go! Dad, don't go!" Danny screamed inwardly.

Room 237 was neat and orderly, as if someone had always lived there. Jack pushed open the door and stepped inside. The bathroom door was ajar; Jack pushed it open, and a wave of steam filled his lungs. At the far end of the bathroom, a shower curtain partially obscured the bathtub. Behind the curtain, a woman's figure was faintly visible. A deep fear gripped Jack, but he couldn't move an inch.

Suddenly, a hand slowly emerged from behind the shower curtain. The hand was pale and thin, gently pulling it open. A young, half-naked woman sat in the bathtub, gazing at Jack. Jack's fear instantly turned to surprise. The woman stood up, completely naked, stepped out of the tub, and walked towards Jack. Jack finally saw the woman's face clearly. She was beautiful, her shoulder-length hair swept back, dripping wetly over her shoulders, her figure voluptuous, her body perfectly proportioned, her eyes alluring. Jack brazenly scanned the woman's entire body. He felt a surge of ecstasy; his mental climax had led to an uncontrollable act of debauchery. The irresistible stimulation compelled him to approach the naked woman. Women and alcohol. Even if it meant selling his soul to the devil! Jack slowly grinned.

The woman reached out and began to caress Jack. Jack enjoyed it; his chest and neck felt damp and cool where she touched him. He could almost smell a scent in the air, but he couldn't quite place it. Jack placed his hand on her waist, sliding it down her hips to her back, pulling her into his arms. The woman's breasts rose and fell against his chest, and Jack felt the soft friction through her clothes. He almost lost control and passionately kissed her. However, the scent that filled his nostrils brought him back to his senses. Jack kissed the woman, slowly opened his eyes, and looked in the mirror. Suddenly, he felt a strong wave of nausea.

In the mirror, Jack saw the woman's back, patches of rotting lividity clearly visible, and his hand was resting on the most severely affected area, where bodily fluids were oozing out. Sagging buttocks, loose flesh, bluish lividity, the stench of decay… Looking at the woman before him, he saw the face of a terrifying old woman, a rotting face, black eye sockets, a toothless mouth, and a few strands of hair like seaweed still dripping water. In horror, Jack released his hand and quickly backed away.

In the bathtub, another corpse covered in lividity slowly floated up from the foamy water. Her eyes were open, but there were no eyeballs.

Jack backed away as the old woman reached out and approached him. She laughed incessantly, her laughter shrill and eerie. The lividity on her body became increasingly clear, her breasts drooping, her hair like rotten straw. Jack gagged a few times, his legs went weak, and he could no longer control them.

Danny witnessed this entire scene from inside the room, gripped by fear as if he were right there in the middle of it. The old woman's laughter terrified him!

In room 237, the corpse in the bathtub slowly sat up and joined the old woman.

Jack fled, his hands trembling as he locked room 237 from the outside. The old woman's laughter continued to echo in the empty hotel.

The old cook took out the hotel's phone book and tried to call into the hotel, but no one answered. He didn't know that the phone line had been severed by the blizzard.

"Sorry, your number is incomplete. Please call an operator for assistance." The automated voice message played on the phone.

The old chef hung up the phone; he had to get in touch with them, he absolutely had to!

Inside the lounge, Wendy paced anxiously, a baseball bat in her hand. Finally, there was a knock at the door, and Wendy ran to the door.

“Jack?” Wendy asked in a trembling voice.

"Yes, it's me." Jack tried to calm his panic and fear.

Wendy opened the door: "Did you find anything?"

Jack avoided Wendy's gaze. He didn't want to tell her what had just happened; the thought made him nauseous. He couldn't tell her that he had almost made love to the corpse that had nearly killed Danny. The door was locked; they couldn't get out. Everything would be alright. If he told her, she would make a mess of her life out of fear. Jack decided to lie: "Nothing... I didn't see anything."

"You've been to room 237 that Danny mentioned?"

"I've gone."

"You didn't see anything?" Wendy asked incredulously.

“I didn’t see anything. How is he?” Jack tried to change the subject.

He's still asleep.

“Great. I think I’ll be fine when I wake up tomorrow,” Jack said. He was trying to convince himself rather than Wendy. Hopefully, everything would be back to normal tomorrow.

"Are you sure you went to the same room? Maybe Danny got the wrong number." Wendy still couldn't get over it. Such a serious matter, with other people in the hotel whose lives were threatened, how could her husband be so nonchalant about it?

“He must have gone to that room; the door was open and the light was on.”

"I don't understand... what happened to the bruises on my neck? Someone must have done it."

“I think he did it himself,” Jack said, looking at Wendy, trying to convince her.

"No, impossible!" Wendy knew her child too well; he would never do such a thing!

Danny lay awake in the room, his eyes wide open. He could hear his parents arguing. Before him, another scene puzzled him: a door, yellow with the word "REDRUM" written in red ink. What was this? What was this?

Wendy's voice came from outside the door: "Whatever the explanation, I think we need to get Danny out of here!"

"

Jack roared almost immediately, "Get him out of here? You mean, out of this hotel?"

Alone in his room, Danny couldn't hear his parents' voices. He opened his mouth in horror and saw that scene again: red blood gushed out from both sides of the hotel's side door, filling the lobby and eventually obscuring his view!

“You’re always causing trouble!” Jack yelled hysterically. “Every time I’m about to accomplish something, every time I’m focused on my work, you do this. If I want to leave, I can just hand in my resignation! I can go sweep the streets, wash cars, do you like that?”

Wendy was panicked and helpless. Her son was injured, and her husband was acting strangely. All she could do was cry.

"You ruined my life! But I won't let you do that!" Jack stormed out of the room. A growing sense told him he would never leave this hotel, never!

Jack hurled plates and bowls from the aisle onto the floor with a loud crash. As he vented his frustration, he found himself back in front of the "Golden Room" bar. However, unlike before, the aisle was now filled with a revelry of activity: popped balloons, scattered confetti, and when he peered into the "Golden Room," he saw it was packed with guests.

The old chef was still on the phone.

"Good evening, forest service." The communications officer answered the phone.

“Hello, my name is Dick Harroan, the head chef of the Overlook Inn,” the old chef said.

"Hello, is there anything I can help you with?"

"I wanted to make an emergency call to the Overlook Hotel, but the operator said the phone line was down."

"Many lines are down because of the blizzard," the person on the other end of the phone replied.

"I'm sorry to trouble you so much, but there's a family with a child up there, facing a blizzard. Thank you so much. Could you please contact them by radio to see if they're all safe?" the old chef pleaded.

"It would be a pleasure to serve you. Could you call back in 20 minutes?"

"Thank you, okay," the old chef said.

"Okay." The correspondent hung up the phone.

"I will never leave this hotel!" Jack's resolve grew stronger as he entered the "Golden Room." The "Golden Room" bar was packed; all 50 tables were occupied. This was the life he wanted. It was practically a masquerade ball, with gentlemen and ladies dressed in outdated styles—clearly a long-lost trend, exuding a stale, antiquated fashion. Yet, Jack felt no sense of unfamiliarity.

“Good evening, Mr. Tarrens,” a guest greeted Jack familiarly.

“Good evening,” Jack replied. He walked to the bar. “Hi, Roy, I was just out for a bit, now…”

"I'm back."

"Good evening, Mr. Tarrens, it's a pleasure to meet you." The bartender was as methodical as ever, and despite the large number of customers, his movements were not hurried.

“It’s great to be back!” Jack said with a smile.

"Sir, what do you need?"

"A drink that lets you forget your troubles." Jack stared at the bartender like a child waiting for a reward.

Bourbon on the rocks?

"That's it!" Jack exclaimed excitedly.

Roy mixes a drink for Jack, and Jack takes money out of his wallet.

“No, Mr. Tarrens, it’s free,” the bartender said.

"Free?" Jack seemed not to have heard clearly.

“Your money won’t work here,” the bartender said meaningfully. Seeing Jack’s disbelieving expression, he added, “The manager said so.”

"Did the manager say that?" Jack took the money back.

"Mr. Talens, please have some." A glass of bourbon was pushed in front of Jack.

“I’d like to know who bought me this drink,” Jack said, taking a sip of his drink. There’s no such thing as a free lunch, and his remaining shred of reason told him he needed to know the price of this drink.

“This isn’t something you’d care about, at least not right now,” the bartender said slowly, his tone so gentle it had a hypnotic, pleasant quality.

"Whatever, this drink is mine!" Jack thought. "Roy, you decide!" Jack easily got up, took the drink, and happily danced to the music, but bumped into a waiter who was trying to avoid a lady. The waiter's drink spilled all over Jack.

"I'm so sorry! Oh my goodness!" the waiter said, "I've dirtied your jacket."

“It’s okay, I have plenty of jackets.” Jack smiled tolerantly.

"Sir, this is pear wine, it will stick to your clothes."

"Pear wine?"

"Yes, sir, it would be best to go to the restroom and wipe yourself with water," the waiter said solicitously.

“You got some too, old man.” Jack patted the waiter on the shoulder.