Chapter 116 The Red Envelope 1: A Chapter of Bystander's Self-Destruction
You can settle into your hotel with peace of mind.
The inn's owner, an old woman named Martha, seems to be a witch.
When she had nothing to do, she would sit behind her little front desk, fiddling with bottles, jars, and bundles of hay.
When it's mealtime, she'll get up and slowly start cooking.
Yes, apart from two guests who used helpers to pay for their rooms, Martha did everything at the hotel.
She not only manages the hotel, but also treats each guest like her own child.
If you don't go out often, she'll take the initiative to check on you and nag you with flower language that's hard to understand, telling you to go out and get some sunshine more often.
"That way, bad luck won't come knocking on your door." She practically dragged you out of the room and made you sit under her small window to talk to her.
She might even bring an old book on the meaning of flowers and ask you questions about flower meanings.
At first you're bound to be wary, but after staying for two more days, you can't help but soften your heart.
The guests here include locals and "outsiders" like yourself. But inside the hotel, under the care of a "patriarch" like Martha, it seems that all the crises from the dungeon have disappeared, and everyone is just an ordinary and vibrant person.
The only time you actually went out was when Tamara begged you to let her go.
This woman is really demanding. Sometimes you feel like you're too good-natured, but oh well, just accept yourself for who you are.
You feel like a ball of cotton, being manipulated in the hands of someone whose real name you don't even know from the start of this instance.
And this only makes you softer.
As you stood on the platform, the wind rushed into your coat collar, chilling your fingers to the bone. Tamara waved and cheerfully disappeared into the departing train on the opposite platform.
I wore too few clothes today. It's probably true what Martha said: when you're always in a warm, cozy indoor environment, your perception of nature decreases, making it easier to wear inappropriate clothes.
You turned up your collar, turned away with a haughty air, and left without responding to Tamara's warm farewell.
Just as she stepped into the car, you felt as if something had gently tapped the back of your head.
Feeling down.
You take a step forward and walk quickly towards the train you will be taking.
The waiting room wasn't crowded, but it wasn't deserted either. It was just uncomfortably quiet.
About twenty passengers sat scattered inside, waiting. No one spoke, and no one looked up. Everyone was either scrolling through their phones or staring blankly at their cold coffee cups.
It's as if the public space itself is filled with tiny alarm devices, and if anyone makes a sound that exceeds a certain decibel level, it will trigger some unknown consequence.
You're about to complete an entire instance of the Kingdom of Los, but this is the first time you've ever been alone in such a large space with the locals like this.
You belatedly realize that you seem to have a certain "fearless" spirit.
To put it another way, it might sound better—you have an unwavering belief that you can withstand any unexpected event.
Yes, it was Tamara who led you astray.
You are quite pleased that you have found the truth.
Fortunately, nothing strange happened that day; although the locals were cold and aloof.
As soon as you get off the bus and enter the hotel, Martha picks up a bunch of freshly lit sage and sprays it all over your face with the smoke.
"What's wrong with you kids... this evil spirit just won't go away..." the old lady muttered, ladling out another cup of her homemade drink for you.
You still trust the old lady a lot, after all, she's absolutely right. As outsiders who come to this world that belongs to the locals, and who may face all sorts of terrifying events at any time, you must seem like you're full of evil spirits to the locals.
However, Martha has real skills. Whenever you feel something is not right, she will find you in time, and after a ritual, you will immediately feel refreshed.
These carefree and easy days didn't last long before you had to leave the Los Kingdom instance.
But the New Year arrived before you left.
On New Year's Day, all the guests happily helped clean and decorate the hotel.
Before nightfall, Martha had already locked the hotel.
In the hotel lobby, a chandelier that had been repaired by hand many times was lit, its orange halo enveloping the cracked wooden floor.
The room was filled with the strong smell of vodka, the sweet aroma of boiled carrots and onions, and even a clip of the Flower Kingdom's New Year's Eve party playing on the TV—the reason being that there were two Flower Kingdom people among the passengers, and Masha liked the lively atmosphere, so everyone encouraged her to project this video onto the screen.
You're huddled in the corner by the window, feeling a little dizzy.
But Martha was still standing behind the electric heater, hunched over, stirring a pot of borscht.
She was dressed to the nines today: a newly embroidered dark headscarf covered her silvery-white hair, and a small mahogany cross was pinned to her cuff. She also wore an old bear tooth.
'
Martha told you about this bear tooth; it's not just an ordinary decoration, but a real amulet.
You suddenly feel that perhaps Martha isn't just celebrating the New Year, but rather—fully armed and preparing to fight something.
Your gaze kept drifting towards her, which resulted in the old lady serving you bowl after bowl of beetroot soup until your face turned rosy and as red as the soup itself.
Martha always treats you like a child, but not like that with other people.
Look, she serves you sweet soup, but when other guests ask her for soup, she looks kind but laughs and scolds them as "rascals" and "hooligans," only giving them drinks.
To please her, the guests pretended to be beggars asking for food, and after receiving the wine, they had no choice but to drink it all down in one gulp.
After several rounds, the room full of drunks burst into laughter more than you'd ever seen in the Kingdom of Los Angeles.
However, you didn't notice that Martha was always quietly wiping the table after the guests turned away—this old lady wasn't usually so diligent; the restaurant's small tables were often not clean.
Happy New Year! Happy New Year!
The young couple sitting to your left are whispering in your ear, seemingly trying to flirt with you.
The man was blankly drawing snowflakes on the glass window, while the woman was already quite drunk, singing a children's song in the language of Rose. You couldn't understand the lyrics, but you could hear the off-key words and the intoxicated tone of her voice.
"Haha, sorry, I forgot you can't understand it." The woman said this incoherently. "I'll sing you this. When I was little, I had to listen to this every New Year's Eve to feel the New Year spirit..." As she spoke, she raised her glass to you.
He turned around and slapped the man, yelling, "Give me some accompaniment!"
The so-called accompaniment was just the man making a rhythm with his mouth, but it was neither in tune nor rhythmic. Yet, mixed in with the women's wailing and howling, it somehow worked in sync.
"Is this your first New Year in our country?"
After venting her desire to perform, the woman puts her arm around your neck, casually waving her wine glass in front of you before finally pouring it into her own mouth.
You nodded slightly, not responding further, and steered the conversation elsewhere—you began to compliment her hand cream on how fragrant it was.
When a woman is happy, she'll grab you and start applying hand cream to your hands.
"This is a brand from our country, Los Angeles. I think it works very well, and you have excellent taste!"
You're very good at winning a woman's heart.
They were laughing and joking on one side when footsteps sounded on the other.
The door was pushed open, and a man who looked somewhat introverted and reserved poked his head in.
It's him.
You vaguely remember this person, and Martha, thinking he was also from the Flower Country, arranged for him to live across from you.
This is the first copy of this person. He is so confused that he doesn't even know where he went to school, what his identity is, or where he lives.
When he was freezing to death outside, it was Martha who took him in.
It took you a day of observation to confirm that he was also an outsider.
Out of good intentions, you want to explain to him what the situation is here and what he needs to do here.
But this person looks young, yet he seems quite shrewd.
No matter what you say, he remains wary, even treating you like a madman.
For several days in a row, you even felt that he was secretly observing you.
But when he was with the other guests, he was exceptionally attentive.
"Dian," you thought, your face expressionless.
If you respect other people's fate, you will no longer concern yourself with it.
It's New Year's Eve, and everyone has been busy all day except for him. Now that everyone is enjoying their meal, he suddenly appears.
Martha didn't care about that; she just warmly and lovingly told him to sit down and served him pickled fish and stew.
He tried to join the conversation while munching on pickled fish, but everyone in the room was drunk and no one paid him any attention. Only then did he turn his gaze to you, and you silently looked away.
No one cared about his embarrassment; the old lady simply added a piece of birch bark to the stove.
It wasn't until the smell of burning started that you realized she had been burning wood used for exorcism.
You pursed your lips, and became somewhat absent-minded when talking to the young couple again.
The drunkards had somehow found an old DVD, which turned out to be a comedy from the Kingdom of Los Angeles.
In the video, a comedian dressed as a snowman is chasing a bus through the snow.
Perhaps it was the alcohol, but these outdated jokes made everyone burst into laughter. And when others laughed, you joined in.
You laughed until your stomach hurt, then got up to get the kettle, wanting to make yourself some tea.
But you brushed past Martha in the kitchen. Suddenly, she reached out and gently tugged at your sleeve.
"You don't drink, you smart kid."
You nodded, and she poured you another small glass of beet soup, whispering, "Drink this. It's good for you. It contains sacred blessings."
You took it with a wry smile. But the earthy aroma of red beets and dill actually eased your tense, suspicious nerves a little.
In the last five minutes before midnight, the guests sat around a makeshift wooden table with sausages, pickled mushrooms, honey rye bread, and a potato salad made by Martha herself (she substituted apple chunks for onions to suit your taste).
Some people raised their glasses, some took photos, couples kissed in a corner oblivious to everyone else, and a countdown began on TV.
Fireworks had already begun to sound sporadically before the New Year. The closer it got to midnight, the more frequent the fireworks became.
Martha gently tapped the corner of the table three times behind everyone, then lit a red candle in the corner.
You noticed—she didn't shout "Happy New Year." She just looked at the moonlight that briefly peeked through the dark clouds outside the window and murmured:
"Pustnepridut"
I read it three times in a row, and you learned it from it.
But what exactly does it mean...?
For a moment, you feel like asking what "they" are.
But you didn't say anything.
You think it might be better to pretend you don't know.
Happy New Year!
Happy New Year!
You might have made a small wish: that these last few days will go smoothly, and that the next instance won't have so many thrilling events.
After finishing the last cup of mead, everyone got up to say goodbye.
When the couple returned to their room, the girl was still reluctant to leave. She staggered and grabbed your hand, laughing as she said, "We have to go out again tomorrow, so we need to pack our bags early."
"It's so nice to meet you! It's so nice to meet you!"
You nodded goodbye and slowly walked up the wooden stairs.
Behind her, she could hear Martha clearing away the cups, humming the melody of "Little Squirrel" as she blew out the red candle with a heavy sigh.
You turn around, ready to turn the doorknob.
Just then, you glimpse a red letter neatly placed on each of the chairs in the living room.
Red paper, no seal, no signature. Every single one is the same.
Your heart skipped a beat.
The rule roared in my mind like a fire alarm: "Do not open unsigned red envelopes on New Year's Eve."
Without even glancing a second time, you immediately opened the door and went back inside. You locked the door and stood behind it for a full minute, until your breathing slowed down.
But just as you take off your coat and are about to sit down—
The voice of the man from across the hall came from the corridor.
"Wow—really? They give out red envelopes for the New Year here too? Did Old Masa learn this from Hua Guo? She even prepared one for me!"
"What the hell is this?"
"I don't understand... Oh well—it's already opened!"
You closed your eyes and said nothing.
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Author's Note: Hehe (This part about celebrating the New Year actually happened two years ago when Tiger spent the New Year with Russian exchange students. Of course, in reality they were even cuter (frightening) because they wouldn't let me leave and insisted on performing for me =.=)
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