Chapter 71 and fans
The continuous rainy weather has filled the air with the smell of moisture and mold.
Sang Luo tightened his woolen coat, pushed open the door with a wooden sign that said "Open Today", and walked into the pub. Only then did he feel a little warmer.
As if shrouded in a fog that has lasted from the last century to the present day, this small town has never had a sunny day.
The sky is dark grey, the bluestone pavement is damp, the red walls of the old buildings have been dulled by time, dewdrops are always hanging on the plants, withered yellow leaves pile up on the streets, seagulls circle around every pointed-roof building, and the air seems to be always covered with a soft light filter, blurring all the scenery.
Pedestrians wearing wide-brimmed hats hurriedly disappeared around the corner.
The rain here is not heavy, but it never stops.
Romance reaches its extreme, but also loneliness reaches its extreme.
The shops with yellow lights on from morning to night are the only warm colors in this small town called Red Pomegranate.
The shell wind chimes at the door rustled, alerting the people in the tavern that a customer had arrived.
Seeing that it was an acquaintance, the waitress lowered her head again and asked while wiping the cup, "What would you like to drink?"
"Black tea, thank you." Sang Luo sniffed and felt like he was about to be frozen.
A pot of hot black tea is the best spiritual comfort in this season.
Of course, it's also because it's cheap enough.
Sang Luo went to the window booth he often visited and sat down, taking out paper, pen and ink from his coat pocket.
At this time, the black tea he ordered was also served.
So, amidst the warm, steaming mist, Sang Luo dipped the tip of his quill pen in ink and wrote the first line of the day on a piece of scratch paper: "Inside the hotel, Da Piaoliang, with trembling hands, struck a match..."
·
Three days ago in the afternoon, Sang Luo was catching up on his sleep when he suddenly received a call from the old village party secretary, asking him to drive his broken Santana to the county town to pick up a technician and return to the village to repair the rice mill.
"Is there no one in our village who can repair it?" Sang Luo asked in a daze with his eyes closed.
"I remember there seemed to be one, but I can't recall who it was..." the old village secretary urged from the other end, "Sang Wazi, hurry up and don't delay the village's harvest!"
Sang Luo agreed repeatedly and promised that he would set off immediately and asked the old village party secretary not to worry.
After hanging up the phone, he got up, packed up casually, and went out.
Sang Luo is a male college student studying sports industry management at a sports college. When he has no classes, he works part-time as a midnight radio host. His job is to tell ghost stories to listeners between 1:00 and 3:00 in the morning.
From urban gossip to rural ghosts, Sang Luo can come up with them with ease.
He often scared his model roommate to the point of screaming - Sang Luo signed with an MCN company, and the company arranged a two-bedroom apartment for him to live with a young foreigner who came to China to work.
This little foreigner was very interesting. During the time they lived together, whenever Sang Luo was in the mood, he would force him to tell rural ghost stories, forcing the little foreigner to learn Sichuan swear words.
The young foreigner had a filming job today and went out early in the morning. Sang Luo originally thought that he could sleep soundly all day without being disturbed, but he did not expect to receive a call from the old village party secretary who sponsored his schooling.
I had no choice but to run errands obediently.
After driving to the county town, picking up the master the old village secretary had mentioned, and sending him to the village factory, Sang Luo declined the old village secretary's offer to invite him to dinner and drove back to the city.
Sang Luo didn't dare stay outside for too long at this time, after all, he had work to do in the evening.
As we drove on, we reached the end of the country road and the little broken Santana suddenly stalled.
Sang Luo got out of the car to check, but saw a thick fog not far in front of the car.
Out of professional habit, Sang Luo bravely went to check it out, but it was only a few steps away, and when he turned around, he could no longer see his used car.
Next, no matter which way he walked, whether he went in the same direction or went into the surrounding paths, Sang Luo could not get out of the fog.
Just when he was about to give up, he saw a light in the distance.
Warm yellow, in the quiet night, Sang Luo didn't think anything else and hurried to meet it.
Following the light, as if guided by someone, Sang Luo walked out of the fog and came to the fork in the road.
What caught his eye was a retro street scene like a European medieval town and a tavern called Dream.
Sang Luo pushed open the door and walked in.
Inside, some men and women with obviously European looks were gathering in groups of three or four, drinking beer and chatting.
A waitress in uniform came over and asked him in standard Mandarin: "Sir, what would you like to drink?"
Sang Luo realized that he might have accidentally entered the variety show shooting site or simply traveled through time.
First of all, this couldn't be a dream.
Because he pinched his thigh so hard that it hurt.
When the waitress's smile faded and she asked him a second time with a hint of impatience, Sang Luo calmly replied, "Actually, I'm here looking for a job. Have you ever heard of talk shows?"
That night, Sang Luo scared all the guests in the tavern with his country ghost stories.
After a round of applause, he successfully earned fifty copper coins.
He also signed a short-term cooperation agreement with the pub owner, and came here every night to perform stand-up comedy as a guest performer in the pub.
At ten o'clock, after the tavern closed, Sang Luo took the fifty copper coins and went to a small, shabby hotel nearby to stay overnight.
It cost thirty copper coins.
Sang Luo lay on the big bed in the hotel, unable to sleep because of the high prices for the past 31 days.
I was thinking hard in my mind whether I had any other skills to make money.
It was not until dawn that I had a light sleep.
·
After quickly finishing the outline, Sang Luo put the wiped clean feather pen aside.
He drank a cup of black tea and felt warm from the palms of his hands to his stomach.
A tavern with a burning fireplace is much more comfortable than a cold, shabby hotel room.
So these days, Sang Luo came to the tavern every afternoon, ordered a pot of black tea, and then sat by the window to write.
The boss would deduct the money for the black tea from his salary, and in the evening, Sang Luo could also have a staff meal at the pub, saving some money for future plans - now, Sang Luo was completely certain that he had traveled through time.
I traveled to an outrageous world full of foreigners, but they spoke Chinese.
As a black household with no money, no property, and no income, Sang Luo must be frugal and save a lot of money for emergencies.
Just as Sang Luo was daydreaming, the person he was waiting for arrived.
A man wearing a long trench coat, a top hat and a thick plaid scarf came in from the door of the pub.
He came and sat down on the sofa opposite Sang Luo.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Hart." Sang Luo greeted him happily.
Mr. Hart did not answer.
The waitress came over and handed the man the menu. The man stretched out his leather-gloved fingers and ordered a chestnut cake.
As a result, the smile on Sang Luo's face became even bigger.
Mr. Hart is Sang Luo’s favorite person since he came to Red Pomegranate Town.
That day, after I stood on the stage, facing the impudent gazes of a group of foreigners, and told a country ghost story that was extremely exotic to them, the pub was silent for a long time.
Finally, it was Mr. Hart, who was sitting in the corner, who started to applaud first, and the atmosphere became lively.
That silent and awkward situation was saved because of Mr. Hart's support, which gave Sang Luo a way out and a precious job opportunity.
That night, after the show, Mr. Hart took Sang Luo to a hotel very close to the pub, and then left like a gentleman.
He had no intention of intruding too much into Sang Luo's private life, which made Sang Luo feel greatly relieved.
In the following days, every night, Mr. Hart would sit in the front row of the audience and listen to Sang Luo tell ghost stories.
He would give applause at the appropriate time, so that the guests who were frightened by Sang Luo would give the performers the cheers they deserved after they came to their senses.
Mr. Hart can be said to be Sang Luo's number one fan.
He is calm, elegant, and always maintains just the right distance.
This made Sang Luo feel that there might not be a more mature and charming man in this town than Mr. Hart.
Except, he's mute - last night, after the show, Sang Luo tried to invite Mr. Hart to lunch to thank him for supporting his career.
But I haven't received a reply yet.
Just when Sang Luo thought he had overstepped the boundaries and was feeling so embarrassed he didn't know what to do.
Mr. Hart took the notepad from the bar and began to write.
He wrote: "No need to buy me lunch, but if you'd like, could you tell me your story? I'm very interested."
Holding the note, Sang Luo hesitated for a moment, then asked cautiously, "Sir, I don't mean to offend you, but may I ask, are you unable to speak?"
The man nodded and continued writing: I can't speak. But I like listening to you talk.
Sang Luo was very happy and the praise from the audience made him extremely satisfied.
He promised, "Then tomorrow afternoon, in this tavern, I will tell you the ending of the story in advance." After thinking for a moment, he asked him, "How should I address you?"
The man pointed to the top hat on his head.
Sang Luo guessed that he might not want to tell her his real name - the man wrapped himself too tightly, in a long trench coat, a wide hat, a thick plaid scarf and leather gloves.
It was so tight that even at a social distance, Sang Luo couldn't see a glimpse of his skin.
Not to mention appearance.
Top hat, top hat...
Sang Luo thought for a moment and asked tentatively, "Can I call you Mr. Hart?"
The man nodded.
So, this loyal fan has a special nickname given by the stand-up comedian he supports.
Mr. Hart, Mr. Top Hat.
…
When the two chestnut cakes were delivered, Sang Luo did not pretend to be reserved, but thanked Mr. Hart generously.
Thank him for treating himself to cake.
Then he happily ate the piece of cake on the plate.
After he finished eating, Mr. Hart pushed the piece in front of him over.
Sang Luo asked him, "Don't you want to eat it? It's delicious."
Mr. Hart shook his head. He unscrewed the ink bottle, dipped Sang Luo's quill pen in a little ink, and took out a brand new leather notebook from his pocket. He opened a page and wrote: "I don't want others to see my appearance, so I won't eat. You can eat it. Both cakes are ordered for you."
Sang Luo recalled and found that although Mr. Hart would consume and order drinks or tea every time, he never touched them.
So it’s because you don’t want others to see your appearance?
This made Sang Luo curious about this man who was over 1.9 meters tall and taller than him, a former sports student.
But Sang Luo is not the kind of person who likes to pry into other people's privacy.
The reason why he took the initiative to meet with Mr. Hart alone was simply because Mr. Hart's gentlemanliness made Sang Luo feel at ease, and Sang Luo believed that he must socialize and have friends so as not to be driven crazy by the thoughts that came to him after he calmed down.
The gentlemanly and polite Mr. Hart is a very good choice.
Sang Luo knew that he would not work in this pub forever, so becoming friends with Mr. Hart would not be considered excessive contact between an actor and a fan.
As it happens, Mr. Hart cannot speak yet.
It’s great to have a friend who can only listen but not talk!
Sang Luo gladly accepted the second piece of chestnut cake.
Throughout the whole process, Mr. Hart sat upright with his hands folded on the table, showing that he was well-educated.
He didn't even touch the draft paper that Sang Luo had casually placed on the table.
Just looking at myself quietly.
Yes, although he could not see Mr. Hart's appearance and expression, Sang Luo was sure that he must be looking at him very intently.
A gentle and appreciative gaze can make you feel it clearly.
Mr. Hart must have been a very, very gentle man.
…
After finishing the cake, Sang Luo even burped a little.
He felt a little embarrassed and quickly poured himself another cup of black tea.
The teapot is placed on an iron rack and is continuously heated by a small candle to keep it at the right temperature.
On a rainy afternoon, Sang Luo was full and felt a little sleepy.
I was so sleepy that my eyelids felt dry and I wanted to yawn.
He rubbed his eyes, forced himself to be alert, picked up the draft paper on the table, and planned to give Mr. Hart a spoiler of the ending first - he used the storytelling mode of the princess in "One Thousand and One Nights" to perform a ghost story talk show for the audience in the tavern.
This story has been serialized for five days.
In order to win over the audience, Sang Luo plans to follow the form of unit stories. After explaining the ending tonight, he will quickly start over and tell part of the new story to arouse the curiosity of the audience and let them come to the pub to watch his performance every night.
This model allows you to receive more rewards and tips while stabilizing your job.
Today, Sang Luo plans to try the effect on Mr. Hart first.
In a moment of distraction, he couldn't help but yawn.
Strange. Sang Luo thought, normally at this time, my brain is most active and my thoughts are most jumping, so why shouldn't I feel sleepy?
Why am I so sleepy today?
He coughed lightly, trying to concentrate himself and at the same time reminding Mr. Hart to pay attention to what he was saying.
In a corner of a tavern filled with the sweet aroma of food, a man and a young man sat facing each other.
Sang Luo narrated slowly, "Inside the hotel, Da Piaoliang, with trembling hands, struck a match and found that the room was indeed empty. However, on the wall illuminated by the fire, there was more than just her shadow..."
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