Chapter 77 Typing Chat
I was shocked, goose bumps appeared from head to toe, and my hair stood on end.
Sang Luo opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling.
He made sure he had never told Mr. Hart his real name.
In the Red Pomegranate Town, Sang Luo has always been known by the stage name "Sports Student" to socialize with people.
The short-term contract signed with the pub owner was also signed under the name of a sports student.
So how did Mr. Hart know his real name?
After a moment of surprise, Sang Luo began to carefully recall every detail of his arrival in the Red Pomegranate Town.
He traveled through thick fog, entered the Dream Tavern, and got a job as a stand-up comedian. He met Mr. Hart, who sent him to stay at a hotel. He arrived at the tavern early every afternoon to organize his manuscripts, and dated Mr. Hart for two consecutive days. He dreamed about his own ghost story for two consecutive nights...
Sang Luo discovered that apart from the time he spent shopping to buy clothes and daily necessities for herself, all the rest of her social time, including work, was spent in the same room with Mr. Hart.
Mr. Hart had always left Sang Luo with the impression of being mysterious and self-disciplined.
After reviewing it, I realized that I had shared so many details of my life with him.
I took up a lot of Mr. Hart's personal time - this thought made Sang Luo feel secretly happy.
He rolled around on the bed, patted his face, and reminded himself not to let his mind wander to random things.
Don’t be like a young man in love, always thinking that others care about you, like you, and are special to you.
"Don't be an ordinary man!" Sang Luo secretly warned himself.
Then the next second, he began to think uncontrollably, how did Mr. Hart know my real name?
Could it be that I was with him every day and accidentally exposed it?
Should I ask him directly tomorrow?
Mr. Hart...
"call--"
A wisp of mist came in through the crack in the door.
It transformed into a nearly two-meter-tall black shadow whose true form could not be seen clearly.
The black shadow lifted the quilt to cover the young man's bare long legs on the bed, which were exposed due to continuous rolling, with only the undulations of his upper body covered by the loose shirt.
The black shadow stood in front of the bed like a sculpture, silently staring at Sang Luo who fell into deep sleep again for a long time.
Perhaps it had seen enough, so it pulled up the quilt again, this time covering Sang Luo tightly from head to toe.
She carefully tucked in the corner of the quilt where the young man's collarbone was exposed because the collarbone was too wide.
His movements were gentle and considerate, like an old father, or a filial husband.
In short, it doesn't seem like its true identity - some unknown non-human creature that sneaks into the boudoir of a young man in the middle of the night and stares at his thighs.
It was even very considerate. It raised its own temperature and used high-temperature steam to help Sang Luo iron the wrinkled clothes hanging on the floor-standing clothes rack one by one.
It was not until the sun rose and the thick fog outside the window faded a little under the thin sunlight that the black shadow reluctantly turned into mist and slipped away through the crack in the door.
Sang Luo was left alone, sleeping soundly in the tightly covered quilt.
…
When I woke up again, it was still noon.
Because he didn't dream during his nap, Sang Luo felt extremely comfortable all over when he was woken up by his biological clock.
It’s just that I wrapped the quilt too tightly in my dream, so I felt a little hot and sweaty.
He stretched out his limbs on the bed, stretched his body, stretched his instep straight, and curled up his toes comfortably.
"It feels so good..." After waking up, the young man felt refreshed all over, and his throat felt sticky as if it was covered with honey.
After lying paralyzed in bed for a few minutes, Sang Luo jumped up with a somersault.
He needed to take a shower to wash off the sweat.
As Sang Luo walked into the bathroom, she threw the few pieces of cloth that covered her body onto the floor.
The young man's beautiful figure is clearly visible.
At least in the face of the ubiquitous fog, everything is visible.
·
After a simple lunch, Sang Luo went to the tavern as usual.
This time, without him saying anything, the waitress brought the black tea shortly after he sat down.
At the same time, there is a plate of sweet chestnut cake.
"What is this?" In order to save money, Sang Luo never ordered desserts.
The money for the black tea was also deducted from his monthly salary.
"It's the gentleman who likes to wear windbreakers. When he paid the bill yesterday afternoon, he told me that he would give you a plate of chestnut cake every day and put it on his account. When we watch your performance tonight, he will pay for it together with the drinks." The waitress winked at Sang Luo, "If only I were as lucky as you and there was a man willing to pay for me, I would definitely marry him."
Sang Luo blushed at her teasing, and he grumbled for a long time without saying a word.
Fortunately, the waitress didn't intend to tease him any further. She put down the meal and left.
Sang Luo took a bite of the soft and dense chestnut cake and a sip of the fragrant and slightly bitter black tea, and he was very happy to eat.
When the man in the waxed windbreaker and wide-brimmed hat pushed the door open, he saw Sang Luo in the corner, holding a fork in his mouth, his eyes curved into two crescents with satisfaction.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Hart." Sang Luo, who also saw the man, waved at him happily.
The two sat opposite each other and used the handmade notebook the man had bought yesterday to talk as if they were writing a letter.
A handmade vegetable-tanned cowhide notebook passed between two people.
Mr. Hart: Why don't you use the quill I gave you?
Sang Luo: Because I think it is too beautiful and precious, I am reluctant to use it.
Mr. Hart: But things are bought to be used, and their value lies in your use.
Sang Luo: Okay, when this one is completely unusable, I will start using the one you gave me.
Mr. Hart seemed quite satisfied with this answer, because when he handed the notebook over again, there was a stick figure of a smiling face on it.
This playful behavior, which was slightly different from the man's usual steady character, surprised Sang Luo.
I feel like I've gotten a little closer to the mysterious Mr. Hart...
"Oh right." Sang Luo suddenly thought, "I've always used a stage name. I don't mind it, but how did you know my real name is 'Sang Luo'?"
This question made the man opposite silent for a long time.
It was so long that the steam in the teacup dissipated and the tea became warm that Mr. Hart slowly used his quill pen to continue writing under their chat history: Don't you like me calling you by your name? I thought you would approve of me calling you by your real name.
Now, it was Sang Luo's turn to be stumped.
He hurriedly explained: "No, you can call me that, but I just can't figure it out." Sang Luo scratched his head and said innocently, "I forgot when I told you."
Sang Luo felt that Mr. Hart, who was upright and honest, would not do anything to invade other people's privacy.
There must be some mistake that I didn't notice.
Sure enough, Mr. Hart took out the finished notebook from his windbreaker pocket slowly, opened it, and saw a few yellowed draft papers in the middle of the pages.
Most of them are covered with wrinkles from being rolled into balls.
It was then carefully picked up, flattened, and properly stored.
"It seems like the waste manuscript I threw away..." Sang Luo murmured.
Mr. Hart carefully handed one of the draft papers, which had been flattened by the notebook but still had dense creases, to Sang Luo.
——It was the first day of the ghost story they had agreed to meet at the pub in the afternoon. He had crumpled up some scraps of paper he had written before Mr. Hart came and thrown them under the table.
It was actually collected by Mr. Hart and well preserved.
Sang Luo saw the words "by Sang Luo" on the back of the draft paper.
So, it was really my own accident that revealed my real name.
After getting the answer, Sang Luo felt relieved.
The sudden feeling of terror that came over him last night frightened him for a long time.
Although I was more inclined to believe that it was my own fault in the end, the feeling of being worried about something was really not pleasant.
Sang Luo couldn't read his own handwriting incorrectly, because in high school, he'd followed the trend and practiced writing in a "cheese style" style (which later led to a very low score on his college entrance exam essay). Even now, Sang Luo, a junior before crossing over, still hadn't been able to correct his handwriting.
At this time, the notebook was pushed over by the man again.
It was written in a beautiful cursive font: If you don't like me calling you by your real name, I will still call you a sports student.
Sang Luo replied, "No, I chose the stage name 'Sports Student' just to avoid some trouble. I don't mind you calling me by my real name. In fact, I was planning to tell you my real name, but I got scared before I could do it."
After thinking for a moment, he added, "I had a dream last night. When I woke up, it was still dark. I thought about the time you called out my real name on that piece of letter paper, and I scared myself. It's not that I don't like it."
The man nodded, indicating to Sang Luo that he understood what he meant.
Sang Luo smiled and said, "I hope that one day you will be willing to tell me your real name."
Sang Luo always felt that the afternoon spent with Mr. Hart had a strong flavor of online chatting.
He didn't know Mr. Hart's real name or appearance, and due to his physical defect, Mr. Hart couldn't send him a "voice note" or make a "voice call". The two of them were like netizens, chatting purely by typing.
That’s how online dating was done in the old days.
If Mr. Hart is willing to let me see his true face and tell me his real name at some point, would that be considered a kind of online love meeting in person?
Sang Luo lowered his eyes and smiled secretly.
Afterwards, Mr. Hart asked Sang Luo to return the discarded draft paper.
Sang Luo watched the man carefully smooth out the wrinkles on the paper with his leather-gloved hands, and then carefully put it back into the notebook filled with their chat records.
The feeling of having one's own things being treasured by others made Sang Luo feel very comfortable.
He said to Mr. Hart, "I always feel that I have received a lot of kindness from you that is hard to repay. I hope to repay you in the same way in the future."
The man sitting opposite him tilted his head, as if silently asking, how are you going to repay me?
Sang Luo smiled brightly and promised, "Later, when I leave Red Pomegranate Town, I will bind all the ghost story manuscripts together and give them to you as a souvenir."
But after he finished speaking, he waited for a long time without receiving Mr. Hart's reply.
I had no choice but to touch my nose awkwardly and continue writing.
During this time, Sang Luo took a sneak peek and found that the man opposite him had been maintaining the same posture and had not made any special moves.
I think I said the right thing. Sang Luo felt relieved.
·
The atmosphere of tonight's performance is still lively.
Due to the heavy rain last night, the tavern was closed. The guests, who had been kept in suspense by Sang Luo for two whole days, were more excited about the evening talk show than ever before.
They even spontaneously moved their chairs closer to the stage and put down their beer and snacks. Even the ladies who loved smoking put away their jeweled long-stemmed pipes.
Including the fat owner of the tavern and several waiters, everyone was watching intently on the stage as Sang Luo performed a ghost story talk show with ups and downs and rich emotions.
The only exception was the guest who should have been the most supportive, Mr. Hart, the top guy in Sangluo, who hurriedly left the pub before the talk show began.
Before leaving, he went to the order counter and paid for a bottle of champagne, saying it was a performance reward for the athletes.
Then, he left in a hurry without saying a word to Sang Luo.
Sang Luo was looking at the regular customers below the stage who were listening attentively to his ghost stories, and he was a little distracted.
Although his long-standing professional qualities allowed him to maintain his condition, Sang Luo still felt a little flustered and lost in his heart.
Because the man who has always been the most supportive of his stand-up career is not here now.
Why did he leave in such a hurry?
What's the rush?
In the past, they would sit in the first row and listen to me speak, and then after the performance, they would wait at the back door to take me back to the hotel.
…
The quiet night.
There are some strange things in the sky above the Red Pomegranate Town that are difficult for ordinary people to detect.
The night, which originally still had a few sparse stars visible, suddenly became even darker.
It was a thick fog that came from above and pressed down from the sky to the ground.
Like a huge dark gray mushroom cloud, the thick fog spread in the center of the town, and then rushed in all directions at an extremely fast speed.
The thick fog even obscured the tops of the town's tall buildings.
At the edge of town, it was pitch dark.
Even local residents who have lived here for decades would find it impossible to walk out of the town from the dense fog.
——The nightmare demon that feeds on dreams will never allow the humans he is interested in to leave his territory.
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The author has something to say:
Thank you to the little angels who voted for me or provided me with nutrient solution between 2023-11-08 15:26:56 and 2023-11-09 19:29:37~
Thanks to the little angels who irrigated the nutrient solution: Lingcha, 38702466 10 bottles; Banzhichun 9 bottles; Cat Fist is Hard to Beat Four Claws, Big-Breasted Male Mom yyds, Barbatos's Dog, Mo Yanzhan 1 bottle;
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