Chapter 131

Rue, "Golden Rooster Hotel," Room 207.

Lu Mian threw the crumpled newspaper in his hand onto the table and sat down on the edge of the bed.

After sitting for a few seconds, he simply lay down, a sense of exhaustion welling up from the depths of his body, feeling as if he could no longer support himself.

Only the physical and mental state resets every day, not the soul.

He was too lazy to even take off his clothes; he just kicked off his leather shoes and closed his eyes.

Lu Mian slept very deeply and soundly this time, having no dreams at all.

He was awakened by the smell of sulfur; at this time, the sunset was still shining outside the window.

Turning his head to look at the glass window stained with a hint of golden-red luster, Lu Mian whispered self-mockingly:

"Could it be that I've slept for a day and a night?"

Obviously, this was impossible, because every morning at six o'clock, he would wake up automatically.

After seeing the obituary and uncontrollably venting the grief in his heart, Lu Mian felt that his emotions had stabilized quite a bit, though he was still a little depressed.

Of course, he also knew that the sadness would not disappear, and the pain even less so; they would return before long, and he could only try his best to adjust his mindset to face them, not letting himself fall back into that state of near-collapse from before.

As for a little bit of extremism, madness, and self-destructive tendencies, he felt it was unavoidable, as long as it wasn't serious.

"I still need regular psychological treatment afterward, otherwise, before I finish my revenge and find a way to resurrect Aurore, I will have gone completely insane." Lu Mian sighed and rolled off the bed.

He picked up the crumpled "Novel Weekly" once more and looked at the obituary on the front page, wanting the familiar pain in his heart to wake him up completely.

Just then, Lu Mian discovered a problem.

This newspaper was from last week.

The newsboy had sold him an expired newspaper!

"That's impossible, the newsboy couldn't have kept the unsold newspapers himself..." Lu Mian frowned, feeling that this matter was filled with unspeakable strangeness and coincidence.

He recalled carefully and remembered a sentence that Ms. Su Qian, the "Psychiatrist," had said:

"Many times, keeping pain and despair completely buried in the bottom of your heart is not a good thing; human beings need to vent and decompress..."

Suddenly, Lu Mian had an epiphany:

This was part of the psychological treatment!

"Ms. Su Qian first pointed out that my mental state was not right and that I had strong self-destructive tendencies, then used the hope of resurrecting Aurore to provide preliminary guidance, and finally, when I was drowning in the pain brought by this issue, she arranged for the newsboy to deliver an obituary published last week, using the bloody facts to shatter my defenses and let me vent the pain and despair suppressed deep in my heart..." Lu Mian muttered silently to himself.

After figuring it out, he felt quite fortunate, fortunate to have met a very professional and capable "Psychiatrist," otherwise it would have been very difficult for him to struggle out of the mental quagmire from before.

As Lu Mian's gaze moved casually, he saw a few bedbugs crawling into his room.

His sense of smell told him that the room next door had lit sulfur to drive away the bedbugs, but the vast majority of the insects feared his place and moved to other locations.

Thinking about the first day he moved in, when he and his neighbor next door were "hurting" each other, both trying to use sulfur to get the bedbugs into the other's room, Lu Mian couldn't help but laugh.

He put on his leather shoes, walked out the door, and came to the outside of 206.

—On the second floor of the Golden Rooster Hotel, the alley behind the Rue is a washroom connecting rooms 201 to 204, opposite 204 is another washroom, then in the opposite direction are 205 to 208, and there is a relatively large balcony on each side of the corridor, so, except for the second floor, the third, fourth, and fifth floors all have 10 rooms plus two washrooms.

Dong dong dong, Lu Mian curled his fingers and knocked on the door of 206.

"Who is it?" A slightly panicked voice came from inside.

"The one from 207 next door." Lu Mian responded with a smile, "I wanted to get to know my neighbor."

After a few seconds, the door opened with a creak, and appearing before Lu Mian was a thin young man.

He was under 1.7 meters tall, wearing a washed-out linen shirt and black suspender trousers, with relatively large black-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and his brown hair was messy and greasy, as if it hadn't been washed for several days, his dark brown eyes revealing unconcealable defensiveness.

"Is there something you need?" The man asked.

Lu Mian smiled and extended his right hand:

"I should be living here for a long time, so I wanted to get to know the neighbors around me.

"What should I call you?"

The young man hesitated for a moment, but still extended his right palm and shook hands with Lu Mian:

"Gabriel, and you?"

"Xia Er." Lu Mian glanced inside Room 206 and asked with feigned curiosity, "Why are you lighting sulfur now? It's evening, time to go out and find something to eat."

Gabriel pushed up his glasses and smiled bitterly:

"I am a playwright, and I'm planning to rush a manuscript all night."

"A writer?" Lu Mian raised a hand to touch his chin.

He gave up on the idea of playing a small prank on the other party to break the sense of strangeness between neighbors.

Gabriel emphasized:

"A playwright, a writer who specializes in writing theatrical scripts for various theaters."

"Sounds great." Lu Mian praised sincerely, "I admire people who can write stories very much; my idol is a writer."

Seeing the sincere look in the other party's eyes, Gabriel felt a bit embarrassed by the praise.

He scratched his already messy brown hair and sighed:

"This line of work isn't as good as you imagine; I spent a lot of energy on my last script, and I consider it no worse than those classic plays, yet not a single theater manager was willing to take a look at it.

"I can only accept some commissions from tabloids, writing some vulgar and inferior stories; only then can I have money to pay the rent and not starve to death, hehe, the manuscript I have to rush now is just like that, the editor only needs to know how to get the female characters into bed, nothing else, their newspaper's readers just love to see this..."

Perhaps because it touched a deep-seated wound, Gabriel had the desire to share and rattled off a bunch of things.

Lu Mian listened carefully and said sincerely:

"I've read quite a few biographies or interviews of writers, and most of them have had experiences of not being appreciated and having to live in cheap hotels or small attics; I believe that one day you will be able to find someone willing to read your scripts and eventually become a famous playwright."

Gabriel took off his glasses and rubbed his face:

"For so long, you are the second person willing to encourage me; others only mock me for liking to fantasize and not being willing to face reality."

If you didn't have a profession similar to Aurore's, I would mock you too, and even more severely than they do... Lu Mian muttered to himself, then asked curiously:

"Who was the first person to encourage you?"

"It was Miss Safali who lived in Room 309." Gabriel looked up at the ceiling, "She was a life model; I haven't seen her for several days, she might have moved away."

The life model that the Rour couple mentioned? Lu Mian nodded and issued an invitation:

"Do you want to go to the bar for a drink?"

Gabriel was very tempted, but in the end, he controlled himself:

"Next time, I have to submit my manuscript tomorrow."

"Alright." Lu Mian waved his hand and walked back to his room.

After looking at the noisy and bustling scene of the Rue from the window for a while, Lu Mian decided to find a restaurant, have a good meal, and taste the delicacies of Trier.

Just then, he heard a sharp female voice ring out from upstairs:

"You bastard! You stud pig!

"Your mother gave birth to you with a demon..."

The cursing stopped abruptly, as if it had been forcibly interrupted.

Lu Mian's heart stirred, and he opened the window.

"If you like women so much, why don't you go find your mother?

"..."

This time, Lu Mian clearly heard that the voice came from the 4th floor.

That Miss Yisansi who was forced to be an illegal prostitute? Lu Mian remembered Charlie's account.

This also meant that the leader of the Poison Sting Gang, Margot, had brought his men to collect money.

—In the Intis Republic, prostitutes are divided into two types: one is officially registered, in places like City Wall Street, Breda Street, etc., and the other is illegal, which doesn't pay taxes and is subject to crackdowns; their number is ten or even twenty times that of the former.

After a moment of contemplation, Lu Mian put on a dark suit and came to the space between 202 and 203, where there was a staircase leading to the floor above.

He immediately took out the bottle of inferior perfume he had bought in Bigor, intending to pour some on the wooden steps so that Margot and his men would step on it when they passed by.

—The next attack of the Montsouris ghost doesn't know when it will arrive; Lu Mian hopes to find the prey as soon as possible and complete the exchange of fate.

Thinking for a few seconds, he gave up the idea of pouring the perfume directly, intending to make the matter look like an accident to avoid possible investigation by supernatural abilities.

Lu Mian unscrewed the cap slightly, pretending that his palm slipped and he couldn't hold the thick glass bottle body firmly.

With a clatter, the perfume bottle fell onto the bottom step, naturally spilling some liquid, and the rich, almost pungent fragrance dissipated.

Lu Mian squatted down "distressed," picked up the bottle, and capped it again.

He also used his palm to wipe the spilled perfume, continuously rubbing it onto himself.

Soon, most of the liquid was wiped dry, and the evening breeze blowing in from the balcony dispersed the fragrant scent.

Lu Mian then retreated back to Room 207, leaning close to the door frame, hiding his figure, and looking toward the stairwell.

After more than ten minutes, footsteps came down from upstairs layer by layer.

By this time, the scent of perfume in the hallway had faded significantly.

Soon, four men appeared there, the leader being a thin, tall man.

His yellow hair was shaved very short, with every strand standing up, single eyelids, blue eyes, a high nose bridge, thin lips, and a few faint scars on his face.

This man, suspected to be Margot, was wearing a red shirt and a dark leather vest, his hands tucked into his sail-colored trousers, walking down step by step.

A bulge was visible at his left waist, and his feet were shod in unlaced leather boots.

Suddenly, the man frowned, jumped lightly, and leaped over the two steps and the part of the second-floor hallway stained with perfume.

The three thugs following him did not notice anything unusual and stepped on the residual perfume traces.

Lu Mian, who was spying on this scene, felt his heart skip a beat:

"Margot is very sensitive to smells and strongly resists getting unusual odors on himself?"

PS: Seeking double monthly votes~

(End of chapter)