В эпоху династии Сун вдовам было легко выйти замуж

Глава 6

"It's alright, you're more important."

“You’re very kind. Of course, I’ll change before the party tonight,” Jack said, and the two headed to the restroom next door.

"Very smart."

“I’m just… I’ll carry it for you?” Jack called to the waiter behind him.

"Thank you." The waiter entered the all-red restroom. "Would wiping it with water help?"

"Okay, I'll leave the wine here. It won't be long, alright," Jack said incoherently as the waiter wiped the wine stains off his jacket.

"What's your name?" Jack asked.

"Debbie Greta".

“Debbie Greta.” Jack repeated the name, then paused, “Greta?”

“Yes,” Greedy said in a calm voice.

“Debbie Greta?” Jack asked again, staring intently at the man in front of him. He was probably in his thirties, and his profile, which turned toward Jack, seemed familiar.

"Yes."

Jack considered how to begin: "Mr. Greta, have we met before?"

“I don’t think so. What’s wrong? Look, the wine stain is gone.” Greedy breathed a sigh of relief.

“Mr. Greta, weren’t you the guard here before?” Jack asked with a hint of slyness.

"no."

"You're married, right?"

“Yes, I have a wife and two daughters, one eight years old and the other ten.” Greedy looked up at Jack.

"So...where are they?"

"Somewhere, I don't know right now."

Jack withdrew his hand, smiled slyly at Greg, looked into Greg's eyes, and said clearly, word by word, "Mr. Greg, you used to be the guard here, I recognize you. I've seen your article in the newspaper."

"The photo. You killed your wife and your child, then shot yourself." Jack's eyes were fixed on the well-dressed, polite waiter.

Greta's face remained calm and silent. The two men gazed at each other until Greta spoke again in a calm voice. "How strange, sir, how come I knew nothing about this?" he replied politely to the half-drunk guest.

“Mr. Greta, you used to be the caretaker here,” Jack told him again.

(6)

Greedy was silent for a moment, his eyes gradually sharpening, his smile replaced by a reproachful expression. "I'm sorry to correct you, but you are the guardian here, always have been." Greedy looked at Jack and added the last sentence, "You should know best that I've always been here."

Jack was stunned.

Seeing Jack's stunned eyes, a smile slowly spread across Greta's face. Yes, he had been here all along. Not just him, but everyone involved in that ghostly feast outside the bathroom had been.

Jack stared incredulously at the man before him. Greedy's smile held an unusual calmness and an all-knowing superiority. He looked into Greedy's eyes, not wanting to argue. This feeling was so familiar; that sense of obedience he felt in his dreams had returned to Jack.

“Mr. Tarrens, you know that your son wants to bring a stranger in, do you know that?” Greedy said softly to Jack.

“No.” Jack was a little incredulous.

“Mr. Tarrens, he is a—” Greedy slowed his speech, his hypnotic tone echoing in the red bathroom.

"Who is it?" Jack asked impatiently. This was his home, and he wouldn't allow anyone to intrude on his life. Jack thought to himself.

Greedy seemed to already know Jack's anger, and deliberately spoke in a presumptuous tone: "A black..."

people."

"Black person?"

“A black chef.” Greta’s eyes were fixed on Jack.

"What method?" Jack's throat was a little dry.

“Your son has incredible talent, more than I can imagine. But he wants to use his abilities to defy your will,” Greta said slowly.

“I know.” Jack smiled strangely. Yes, that little brat. “He’s a stubborn kid.” Jack said in a hateful tone. That kid only listens to his mother and causes trouble, which infuriates him!

“Yes, very stubborn, and very mischievous, if I may be so bold,” Greedy continued firmly to Jack.

“It’s all his mother’s fault. She’s always interfering,” Jack said defensively. He didn’t know why he was explaining himself to the man in front of him, but he had a vague feeling that he had to obey this man’s orders and please him in order to get the life he wanted.

"Perhaps you should have a good talk with them, if you don't mind me saying so." The waiter's smile and gaze were suggestive.

“Perhaps, a little more is needed…” the waiter chuckled softly, his gaze fixed intently on Jack, “my daughter…”

They initially didn't care about the view of the hotel; in fact, one of them stole a match, intending to burn the whole place down, but I punished them. My wife tried to stop me, and I... punished her too.

Jack smiled. He finally understood what he was supposed to do.

Jack walked down the corridor, his eyes bloodshot and his breathing heavy. Life needed a change, and he was the master of that change, Jack thought.

A call came from the communications room: "KDK1 calling KDK12, did you hear that? Did you receive it?" Jack responded.

Arriving at the communicator, he tried to find its switch, but he had lost patience. After two seconds of being clueless, Jack yanked open the communicator's cover and pulled out the chip inside.

The plane flew smoothly through the night sky.

The guests were all sleeping peacefully, except for the old cook, who lay awake, eyes wide with composure. Unable to contact the Overlook Hotel, he knew something terrible was about to happen. In 1970, he had failed to prevent a tragedy that had claimed several innocent lives, adding to the hotel's already heavy burden; the memory of that horrific scene still sent chills down his spine. Today, he wouldn't let that happen again. Hang in there, Danny, the old cook thought.

When I got off the plane, it was already snowing heavily. The biting wind, carrying large snowflakes, lashed my face, making it difficult to even open my eyes. The cold air penetrated my lungs, producing a sharp, cutting pain.

The old chef drove a snowmobile toward the hotel. "The weather is terrible today; it's snowing heavily throughout the Denver area," the radio in the snowmobile announced. "Several mountains are closed; Wolfkritt and Red Mountain are closed, and Eisenhower..."

The tower needs to be secured. It's reported that Stapleton Airport only has a few flights…” The old chef had reached the checkpoint, where many people were resting and stopping. The snowstorm ahead was too severe; most people wouldn't risk their lives in such weather. “In this weather, the airport is expected to close within an hour. The storm will continue; this is the weather forecast for all passengers, and those near Denver…” The old chef turned off the radio, ignoring the people outside trying to stop him, and continued driving into the vast white fog by the light of his headlights.

Wendy, baseball bat in hand, cautiously walked through Jack's workspace lobby, looking around, but her husband was still nowhere to be seen. Wendy looked around anxiously; she believed Danny's words, she believed there were others in the hotel!

Neatly arranged manuscripts lay before the typewriter, and Wendy instinctively walked towards the desk. A large stack of manuscripts sat on the table and in the manuscript basket beside it; Jack seemed to be doing well lately, Wendy thought. She leaned down, wanting to see what Jack had written. From the moment he started writing until now, Wendy had never looked at his work; she had always been too afraid. Jack had said that if he found out she was reading his work, he would give her a good scolding, but Jack wasn't here now. Wendy looked around and finally decided to look at that piece of paper.

The paper on the typewriter was covered with dense writing. Wendy looked closely at the paper and saw a sentence:

"No rest, no work! Jack will go crazy!" Wendy looked down and saw a whole sheet of paper filled with the same sentence! The resentment and anger of Jack could be felt between the lines. Wendy looked to the side in horror; a whole basket of manuscripts was filled with the same sentence: "No rest, no work! Jack will go crazy!"

"If Jack doesn't rest, he'll go crazy!"... Each sheet of paper, in a different format, is divided into different paragraphs, but the content is all the same! Same! Same!

Beyond the photo wall filled with pictures, Jack saw Wendy frantically flipping through a manuscript. "Do you like it?" Jack asked with a smile.

Wendy grabbed the baseball bat in terror and turned to look at the person in front of her. Jack's smile was sinister. Wendy felt that this person was not her husband Jack, but a stranger she did not know!

"Do you like it?" Jack approached with a smile, looking at the manuscript papers Wendy had scattered everywhere. Women are like that; rules mean nothing to them. He had said he'd give her another chance and teach her a lesson. Now, the chance had come. "What are you doing here?" Jack's voice surprisingly gentle.

Wendy took a step back, trembling. "I...want...to talk to you."

“Alright, let’s talk.” Jack flipped through the manuscript. “What do you want to talk about?”

Wendy held onto the baseball bat tightly, staring at Jack with horrified eyes: "I...I forgot."

"You forgot?" Jack laughed.

“Yes, I forgot.” Wendy kept backing away.

Inside the room, Danny had already witnessed this scene. The child, tormented by fear, was struggling in agony, and he didn't want to watch any longer.

"Is it about Danny?" Jack's voice echoed. "It seems to be about him."

The scene flashed before Danny's eyes again: the hotel's side lobby shrouded in crimson blood, furniture, sofas, and coffee tables shifting in the flow of blood, which surged forward unstoppably, blocking the entrance and cutting off any possibility of escape. It was a kind of engulfment, a containment from the outside in.

“We should talk about Danny,” Jack’s voice echoed.

Danny saw the yellow door again, with the letters "REDRUM" written on it in red ink. What was that? What did it mean? Danny clutched his head in fear.

“I think…we should talk about what to do with him?” Jack smiled and moved closer to Wendy. “What do you think we should…”

What should we do with him?

Wendy backed away, crying, "I don't know."

“No way, I think you have some really good ideas about what to do with Danny. I’d like to know what they are.” Jack’s hair was disheveled, and his eyes were fixed on Wendy, as if his eyeballs were about to pop out of their sockets.

“I…I think maybe he should see a doctor,” Wendy said pitifully. The child was traumatized, his wounds hadn’t healed, and he hadn’t said a word. He needed to leave, and his whole family needed to leave!

Should I see a doctor?

"Yes." Tears streamed down Wendy's face.

When should we go?

"The sooner the better, please! Please!"

"You think he has health problems?" Jack took a big step forward, and Wendy was gradually cornered against the wall.

"Yes."

“You care about him,” Jack said. “Do you care about me?”

“Of course!” Wendy exclaimed.

“Of course? Have you thought about my responsibilities?” Jack shouted.

"What did you say?"

“Have you thought about my responsibilities? Have you thought about my responsibilities to my boss? Have you thought about how I agreed to take care of everything at the hotel until May 1st? Do you think this whole thing is important? The boss has a lot of confidence in me, and I signed a contract to accept this job. Do you think this whole thing is important? Do you even know what professional ethics are?” Jack yelled frantically.

Wendy had nowhere to retreat but to climb the steps behind her, which led to the second-floor platform, about forty steps in total.

"Have you thought about what my future will be like if I fail to fulfill my responsibilities? Have you thought about it?" Jack took another step forward.

Wendy retreated to the stairs, making a final struggle. She realized that the man before her was no longer her husband, but the one who had harmed her and her son. He's gone mad! Wendy swung her baseball bat and yelled, "Get away!" But this only enraged her.

Jack, he hated women bossing him around.

"Why?"

“I just want to go back to my room,” Wendy pleaded.

"Why?"

"Because I'm confused, I need to think about it carefully."

“You’ve had enough time to think, what’s the point of having a few more minutes?” Jack grinned menacingly.

"Go away! Please, don't hurt me!" Wendy was on the verge of losing control, her baseball bat trembling spasmodically.

Jack felt a surge of pleasure as he looked at Wendy's terrified face. This was the life he wanted, wasn't it? Anyone who broke the rules should be punished. Jack opened his arms, making a gesture as if to grab Wendy, who was filled with fear.