This Damned Thirst for Survival

Chapter 7

Jiang Luo still harbored a hint of caution in his heart.

The night had grown late, and the police, ever so considerate, had arranged a hotel for them to rest.

Under a moonlit sky scattered with stars, Jiang Luo lay on his back, hands behind his head, gazing at the ceiling, the memory of the innkeeper's wife flashing through his mind.

Protection.

This was the sole obsession that allowed a mother to rise and stand by her child's side again.

Such emotions were foreign to Jiang Luo. He had few friends and had never experienced such kinship. Of course, he believed he didn't need friends, and he was even less sensitive to familial affection. Even with colleagues from the design institute he interacted with daily, Jiang Luo maintained a seemingly good relationship on the surface, but they never got a glimpse into his private life.

Living alone, dying alone, feeding oneself without worrying about the family—this was Jiang Luo's ideal state of life.

He gradually dispelled these heavy emotions that didn't belong to him and closed his eyes.

The night passed peacefully.

Descending for breakfast the next day, a young policeman in his twenties gestured them over to a table, "Steamed buns, fried dough sticks, and spicy soup, is that okay?"

Taking a fried dough stick, Jiang Luo tore it into pieces and soaked them in the spicy soup. The young officer said, "The owner of the 129 Hotel has woken up, but his mental state is not good."

They were shown a video where the owner lay in a hospital bed, clinging to his son and not letting go, tears streaming down his face in panic as he kept muttering, "Wife, I'm sorry, wife..."

The child, frightened by his appearance, began to cry loudly, prompting the owner to hold the child tighter, caressing his soft hair silently while tears continued to flow.

Due to business, the owner had indeed neglected his family. When wealthy, he had no time for them; when penniless, his restlessness left him without the patience to be with them.

One day, the owner conceived a new promotional tactic.

He planned to bring his long-unseen mother to the hotel to film some amusing videos of the old lady, turning her into an internet sensation to attract traffic. In the current era of short videos, people were more forgiving towards children and the elderly. With fame, his hotel might just find its spark again.

After bringing his mother back to the hotel, the owner hadn't lived with her for a long time. Still, as mother and son, the longer they spent together, the more he felt something was amiss. However, the owner didn't delve into these irregularities, focusing all his attention on his business, thinking nothing major would happen.

But it was precisely his neglect and superficial thoughts that led to such consequences.

Jiang Luo watched as the black mist around the child's arm gradually disappeared with the owner's cries. Swallowing the last piece of the fried dough stick, he turned to Ye Xun, "Did you see that?"

Ye Xun put down his steamed bun and looked back indifferently, "See what?"

"A black mist," said Jiang Luo, "on the child's left arm."

Ye Xun frowned, seriously looking at the child in the video before shaking his head after a while, "I didn't see it."

Jiang Luo pondered.