Chapter 2
Mr. Problem strode ahead, while Han Shu struggled to keep up behind him, carrying his suitcase.
Passing through a courtyard half paved with stone slabs and half planted with flowers and grass, she opened the last door leading to a dry world, and finally, all was quiet. She wiped her face, looked around, and wondered if she had accidentally entered the game "Minecraft".
Is this what a rich person's home is like?
Although there is a small wooden sign that reads "Mr. Problem Homestay" hanging at the entrance, it doesn't look like a homestay at all; it's more like a place full of life.
On one side of the porch was a floor-to-ceiling shoe cabinet, through which a dazzling array of shoes could be seen. The man placed his umbrella by the door, changed into slippers, and walked inside; the motion-sensor lights immediately turned on.
Han Shu saw several pairs of shoes that he recognized and silently estimated the price... Excuse me.
"The slippers are in the cabinet on the left." The man walked to the entrance first, put one hand in his pocket, and looked over.
Wearing a black shirt and black trousers, Mr. Problem stood there with a languid posture, reminding Han Shu of the phrase "tall and elegant." He was truly pleasing to the eye.
She looked at it for a little longer before turning her gaze to the left.
—In the corner near the door, there is a small white shoe cabinet with a rough texture, which is out of place with the villa and the shoe cabinet on the other side.
She bent down and pulled it open; the first floor was empty, but the second floor contained two pairs of slippers. One pair was pink and smaller, and the other was gray and larger.
These must be the supplies prepared for the guests.
Han Shu took out the woman's pair of sandals, changed out of her soaking wet ones, and as she put them down on the first floor, she suddenly realized something. She blinked, "Excuse me, am I the only guest here?"
Mr. Question nodded in agreement, "Come in and fill in the information."
Han Shu pursed her lips at the back of his head, then picked up her suitcase and followed.
The kind person was right; business was indeed bad.
The porch faces the enormous living room, where an L-shaped gray leather sofa sits in the center, behind which is a wall of bookshelves filled with all sorts of books. In front of it is a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the backyard, where some trees whose names I don't know are being battered by the wind and rain, just like Han Shu ten minutes ago.
Han Shu had only taken two steps when her slippers made an inappropriate slapping sound. Not only that, she was completely soaked; even standing still, water dripped and splashed, leaving dark stains on the floor.
"Um..." she said a little awkwardly, "I'm all wet, and the suitcase is wet too. It'll make your floor dirty."
The man turned around, followed her gaze, looked at the floor, at her tattered clothes, and then at the enormous suitcase, raising his eyebrows slightly.
He seemed to only then notice her predicament.
Han Shu suspected that this handsome guy had some eye problems, after all, she was completely soaked...
The man disappeared without a word at the end of the corridor, and when he returned, he was carrying a full stack of towels folded into cylinders. He used his chin to steady himself on the top towel, bent his knees, and dumped them all onto a stool.
He was not warm towards the guests at all, and seemed to dislike communicating. Apart from asking that strange question, he was unwilling to say a single extra word.
Before Han Shu could even say thank you, the man had already walked to the central air conditioning panel and pressed the up button twice.
The climate on Hainan Island is so strange; a typhoon has passed outside, but it's unbearably hot and stuffy inside, so the air conditioning needs to be on for a long time. She felt cold as soon as she entered the house, but she was too embarrassed to say anything.
Therefore, Han Shu ignored his indifference and sincerely thanked the tall, slender figure, saying, "Thank you."
The man responded with a bland, meaningless look.
Perhaps the central air conditioning in wealthy people's homes is more sensitive, because the perceived temperature quickly rose again. She unfolded a towel, wiping herself as she retracted her earlier comment that her eyes were malfunctioning.
Although Mr. Problem lacks observational skills, he's quite considerate. He raised the temperature because he knew she'd get cold, and he gave her so many towels because her poop was wet—
"There are plenty of towels, remember to wipe the floor." The man reminded him in a low voice, then sat down at the black walnut table in the southwest corner of the living room, crossed his legs, and lowered his eyes, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.
“…Oh,” she replied.
If she were visiting someone's home, it would be perfectly reasonable for her to clean up any messes she made. But this is a guesthouse, a guesthouse open to the public; this attitude shows absolutely no sense of service.
The five-star review I just gave hasn't even been warmed up yet, and it's already dragged down the average to three stars.
Han Shu grumbled inwardly, but after tidying herself up, she carefully wiped the water stains off the suitcase wheels and the soft-light floor. "Where should I put the used towel?"
The man didn't even lift his eyelids. "Clothes basket."
Like the shoe cabinet, the clothes basket also comes in a deluxe version and a rough version. Han Shu took it upon himself to neatly put the dirty towel inside.
After some twists and turns, she finally sat down in the chair opposite the man and began the check-in process. Although the guesthouse didn't look like a guesthouse, the procedures were very formal, checking her ID, registering her information and phone number—nothing was left out. The only downside was that she had to fill out the forms by hand.
Han Shu put down his pen, shook his arm, and asked, "Is this alright?"
As she looked up, she noticed that the man had taken off his glasses at some point and was staring at her thoughtfully.
Without the lenses obstructing her view, her eyes were once again subjected to a pure and innocent attack of her beauty.
Handsome people always get preferential treatment. If anyone else looked at her like that, she would naturally feel offended. But with the problematic man in front of her—she would only take the opportunity to appreciate his good looks.
Of course, it's also possible that his gaze was too indifferent, so indifferent that it lacked any emotion, making it impossible to discern goodwill or malice.
"Are you really married?" The man's gaze fell on her bare fingers.
This was a sign of suspicion. Han Shu remained completely unfazed. "Well, I got married right after graduating at 22. There was nothing I could do; my family was anxious, and my protests were useless."
She ran her fingers through her still-damp hair, sighing softly, "From the moment we got married, it was endless pressure to have children. After giving birth, I thought the world would finally be quiet, but my husband and I argue every day about raising the child. He thinks he's already exhausted from working to support the family, and he thinks I'm just staying home taking care of the child, what more could I ask for? But isn't taking care of a child tiring? I have to breastfeed, clean up after the baby, and cook—"
"Okay." The man frowned slightly. "I understand."
I see.
Coupled with that listless expression and emotionless tone, it conveys the message, "I'm just confirming, I don't care about the other details, no need to say more."
Han Shu shut up instantly, maintaining a mournful expression, but secretly she was delighted. Her colleagues at work mostly talked about their husbands and children, and having listened to so much, she naturally grasped the essence of their complaints about family matters.
Clearly, thanks to her superb acting skills, Mr. Problem believed her.
He glanced through the register, confirmed the key information was correct, and then set it aside. "How many days are you staying?"
"Until the typhoon ends."
"Typhoon?" The man looked slightly puzzled.
"Typhoon Binghu." Han Shu pointed to the floor-to-ceiling window. "The news says it will make landfall tomorrow."
He turned his head to look at the swaying trees outside the window, pursed his lips, and asked again, "The news said when it will end?"
Han Shu hesitated, "It seems... they didn't say?"
"The maximum duration cannot exceed seven days."
Because of the head tilting motion, you can see the veins pulsating on the side of the neck.
As evening approached, only one desk lamp was turned on, making the room much darker. However, Han Shu still felt that Mr. Problem's whiteness was glaring, a bloodless whiteness, like a reclusive, world-weary male ghost.
Seven days should be enough. She nodded. "No problem, I'll leave as soon as flights resume."
The man handed over a key and a plastic-wrapped booklet, repeating the instructions in a monotonous and routine manner: "The room is on the left-hand side of the stairs on the first floor, with a number 1 on the door. You can find the answers to all your questions during your stay in the guestbook."
Check-in manual.
What a strange thing.
Han Shu took it, "How should I pay you for the room?"
The man put his glasses back on, opened the laptop in front of him, and said, "Look at the manual."
How can there be landlords who aren't in a hurry to collect rent?
"Should I pay day by day or pay it all at once at the end?"
"Read the manual." His fingers flew across the keyboard, making a loud clattering sound.
"..." Han Shu was speechless. Clutching the keys, she stood up and mustered her courage for one last try, "Then, for dinner—"
A slight ripple finally appeared on the man's face.
He snapped the notebook shut, took off his glasses with one hand, and pressed his knuckles to his temples. "The manual covers all aspects of daily life. Please read it through first. If you still have questions, you can scan the WeChat QR code on the last page or call the contact number."
Han Shu slunk away.
The customer is always right, so why does she act like a rat living under someone else's roof?
The next second, she pushed open the door with the number 1 sign hanging on it—
Excuse me, how could she be a mouse? How could a mouse live in such a big room?
The spacious open-plan room, about 50 to 60 square meters, features, from the outside in, a single sofa and coffee table, a 1.8-meter bed, and a three-door wardrobe. A wooden desk sits in the southwest corner. Opposite the wall is a frosted glass door leading to a separate wet and dry bathroom.
She touched the gray-blue bedding; it felt dry and soft against her skin, and smelled of laundry detergent. The head of the bed faced a large south-facing window; on a sunny day, the natural light must be excellent.
Han Shu admired it for a while, then suddenly realized an important issue.
—Won't such a nice room be very expensive in rent?!
She quickly opened the check-in manual and carefully studied it word by word, just like she would when analyzing college entrance exam questions.
Ten minutes later, she closed the cover, which was decorated with fancy drawings and looked like a children's book, and let out a long sigh of relief.
A guesthouse where you can get a discount on your room rate by answering questions.
What a strange guesthouse, and what strange people.
Why run a bed and breakfast if you don't charge money? How could anyone not want to make money?
Poor people can't understand it, they can't understand it at all.
Han Shu scratched her neck and arms; the itching from the prolonged dampness was getting worse. She had no choice but to put her doubts aside and turn to go into the bathroom.
After taking a hot shower and drying my hair, I took out a folding basin and clothes hangers from my suitcase and washed and hung up my wet clothes. Feeling refreshed and everything in order, my water-damaged phone was finally working again.
Han Shu first dialed the unlucky car owner's number, but no one answered. Then he opened his contacts and pressed AAA Ling Lin.
"Honey, you finally called back! What happened?!"
Hearing her slightly unsteady breathing, Han Shu said gently, "In short, we walked two kilometers and finally found a guesthouse, and we're settled in now."
My best friend Linglin is the only one who knows she's on Hainan Island, and with all the major apps pushing typhoon news, I'm really worried.
"That's good, that's good." Ling Lin breathed a sigh of relief. "Remember to send me your location."
Han Shu switched to speakerphone and sent a message via WeChat: "Don't worry, it's only 20 meters from the police station. It's safe."
After a series of soft murmurs, Ling Lin said, enunciating each word clearly, "Elegant... Residence... Villa area? Is this guesthouse legitimate?"
“It’s a small guesthouse, all the paperwork is in order.” Han Shu glanced at the check-in booklet on the stool and lowered his voice, “But the landlord is a bit strange.”
"What's strange? Is it a man or a woman? Are there other guests? Could he be after you because you're pretty?"
"A man, but not the weird kind!" Han Shu chuckled, vividly recounting the strange encounter that began when he rang the doorbell.
A massive amount of information was transmitted over 2,000 kilometers using 5G signals.
After listening, Ling Lin paused for a second, then asked, "How handsome? Is he as handsome as Daniel Wu?"
"..." As expected of a best friend, Han Shu looked down on her while also looking down on herself, and said frankly, "Handsome, really handsome. Refined and elegant, handsome but not effeminate, you know what I mean?"
The adjective was used very abstractly, but Ling Lin got it perfectly, and even added in her mind, "Cold and aloof, with an extremely noble air in every gesture... Single? Anyone interested?"
"Stop!" Han Shuyi said sternly. "My current identity is that of a married woman with children, but whose relationship with her husband is strained. How can I commit emotional infidelity within my marriage?"
"Come on, you're disgusted. There's no such thing as a perfect lie. Be careful you don't slip up."
Han Shu opened the memo app. The latest entry was titled "Introduction to Marital Status," and the next one was titled "Introduction to Children's Status." "No, I'm fully prepared. I'll answer whatever he asks."
After laughing for a while, Ling Lin asked suspiciously, "But why does he restrict the conditions for check-in?"
Han Shu let her imagination run wild, "Could it be that he knows he has a stunningly beautiful face and is afraid of being forced into a relationship by a single guest?"
"Pfft! That makes sense!"
After the two chatted about Mr. Problem for a while, Ling Lin repeatedly reminded her to be careful and keep in touch before hanging up.
It was past eight o'clock, and Han Shu took out some leftover snacks from her suitcase to tide her over for dinner. The brochure mentioned that the ingredients in the kitchen's mini-fridge were free to use, but guests would need to cook for themselves.
Unfortunately, after all the travel and exhaustion, Han Shu didn't want to move a single finger. She finished eating, brushed her teeth, hung a ceramic cup on the doorknob, and then lay down peacefully on the soft bed.
call.
What a tiring day, even more tiring than going to work.
But thinking about this amazing experience, the kind person who gave her directions, and this strange guesthouse, she felt fulfilled. Even though she was exhausted, this moment felt far more fulfilling than after sitting in a cubicle in front of a computer for twelve hours.
Han Shu couldn't help but smile, turned over, and was about to drift off to sleep when she saw a dark shadow on the curtains.
She held her breath and slowly sat up.
Outside the window, the wind and rain continued to rage, but the dark figure approached with an extremely regular speed, gradually becoming visible in her eyes.
Han Shu was a staunch materialist.
She took a deep breath, got out of bed barefoot, and slowly walked towards the window.
In this kind of weather, in a very private villa, she could only think of one person.
Could the landlord really be a criminal, using the thunder and lightning as cover to commit crimes? Then why didn't he try to open the door instead of climbing through the window? Did he guess she had hung a cup and was afraid of disturbing her? Could there be—a security camera in the room?!
An unspeakable fear shot up my spine to the top of my head, and countless murder and dismemberment cases cycled through my mind.
Han Shu climbed down to the bottom of the window and, after confirming that he could not be seen through the glass, quickly entered the duty phone number of Nanwan Police Station in Hailing District into the search box.
With her finger hovering over the dial button, she mustered her courage and pulled back a corner of the curtain. Calling the police required explaining the situation; she needed to see what this landlord was up to.
Han Shu clung to the window frame, straightening up at a rate of one millimeter per second, until his eyes could see over all the obstacles and clearly see the scene inside the courtyard.
"..."
It took her a full minute to go from disbelief to shock, to bewilderment, to finally accepting it in silence.
Within a minute, her strange landlord, Mr., wearing a raincoat and swimming goggles, clung to the drainpipe by her window in the pouring rain and climbed up an adult-sized bouncy pole in a contorted posture.
He held onto the handrail with one hand and the wall with the other, and after a few tentative jumps, he seemed to have found his rhythm. He suddenly squatted down and exerted force, sending the vaulting pole flying two meters away, leaving a lightning-like afterimage in the streetlights.
"..."
Han Shu slowly pressed the lock screen button.
Call the police?
Let me tell you something spicy.
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