If there still was a news broadcast, Gu Mian figured the television anchorwoman would have been sternly reporting about the nationwide typhoon landfall.
Gu Mian didn't watch television much, let alone the news broadcast, but each time he turned it on to the news channel, he would be struck by the seriousness of the anchorwoman's face on the screen.
Unfortunately, there were no more news broadcasts now.
He assumed the Meteorological Administration had become an empty shell too, so players in the future would probably face more natural disasters—without any weather forecasts.
The night was still very dark; the only light outside the window came from a distant supermarket.
The players downstairs were still shouting and chattering. The wind and rain outside hit the windows ceaselessly, making Gu Mian suspect that the living room window might be smashed by the wild wind.
"Speaking of which..." Fatty shivered in the darkness. "Doctor, I'm feeling a bit cold..."
It was February. The bitter winter had passed, and no one was wearing heavy down jackets or padded coats anymore.
Gu Mian knew Fatty wasn't usually afraid of the cold. This time, he was just wearing thermal underwear, a mustard-colored turtleneck sweater, and a green coat similar to a military overcoat, complete with a hood.
Fatty often emphasized to Gu Mian that his sweater was light brown, not mustard-colored. But Gu Mian still thought mustard-colored was easier to remember.
This hotel didn't provide heating, but wearing such thick clothes inside usually meant one wouldn't feel cold.
But at this moment, Fatty felt as if he was frozen through, like being outdoors amidst heavy snow. The surrounding walls seemed useless, and cold air enveloped him, cold enough to almost freeze the water in his glass.
The piercing wind seemed to have blown through the room. Cold air swirled around the three of them, and Fatty felt his limbs turn icy, wishing he could wrap himself in his quilt immediately.
"Shit," his teeth began to chatter involuntarily. "This is too cold, isn't it?"
Even Fatty felt cold; those people in the corridors and the living room felt an even more bone-chilling cold. It was as if they had just been pulled from a freezer. They didn't care whether they knew each other or not and leaned on one another, trying to gain a tiny bit of warmth.
At this temperature, no one could last long by huddling together for warmth. Some people's hands and feet had already lost feeling. They would probably have a mental breakdown before their bodies even froze stiff.
It was too cold!
Even if the surrounding walls could block the cold wind, it was still too cold!
Gu Mian looked at Fatty, whose teeth were chattering from the cold. "Go back and get under your quilt."
"Okay." Fatty, eager to dive into his quilt, agreed immediately. But as he turned to go back to his room, he suddenly realized Gu Mian wasn't wearing much either.
Fatty glanced at the Doctor beside him.
He was wearing a black low-neck sweater, revealing almost to his collarbone, and a white lab coat on the outside that didn't seem to offer much protection from the cold.
With his teeth chattering, Fatty asked, "Doctor, are you secretly wearing a heat pack without telling me?"
Where would I even find a heat pack? Gu Mian thought, then shoved him gently. "Go on, wrap yourself in your quilt."
Fatty nodded quickly in agreement, then glanced at Chu Changge beside him.
Ha!
This guy was wearing even less than the Doctor.
Just a brown turtleneck sweater, not even a coat, yet Chu Changge wasn't visibly shivering or chattering his teeth.
Fatty grumbled as he quickly retreated under his quilt, "This is the first time I've realized you guys aren't afraid of the cold at all..."
Gu Mian, however, wasn't very afraid of the cold; the current temperature only made him shiver slightly. Not only was he resistant to cold, but he also wasn't much bothered by heat.
He was the kind of person who would only feel a tiny bit hot wearing a sweater in midsummer. Perhaps because life had often dealt him a tough hand, heaven had gifted him a physique that stayed warm in winter and cool in summer.
It wasn't summer yet. Gu Mian figured that when summer did arrive, that scamp Fatty would probably shamelessly cling to him, using him as a human ice pack.
Fatty, not yet at the stage of shamelessly clinging, had already closed his eyes, wrapped in his quilt.
But even in bed, he wasn't quite settled. "Doctor, the noise outside is still so loud. What if the windows in the room are smashed by the wind and glass shards fly in and stab me?"
Gu Mian looked at Fatty, who was curled up tightly in his quilt. "Shall I put Xiao Hong on top of you? That way, the glass shards could only stab her, not you."
Xiao Hong, who was propped up on the sofa, twitched a bit, as if wanting to protest this suggestion.
But the Thought Transmitter hanging around her neck ultimately didn't voice any opposition.
Upon hearing this, Fatty immediately shook his head in refusal. "Never mind, never mind."
After refusing, he seemed to settle down to sleep. Soon, Gu Mian heard snoring from the bed. Although Fatty claimed to be nervous, he fell asleep faster than anyone.
The windstorm still raged outside. The living room windows looked as if they could shatter at any moment. Chu Changge glanced at Gu Mian. "Are you not planning to sleep tonight?"
Gu Mian looked at the time. "It's already past two in the morning. Even if I went to sleep now, I'd only get a few hours."
He paused, then added, "Besides, I don't need much sleep."
Chu Changge seemed to have no intention of sleeping either. He stared out the window. "Do you think this wind will stop by dawn?"
"I'm afraid not," Gu Mian shook his head. "And judging by the current situation, it's likely to be very chaotic here tonight. We'd better stay awake to handle any emergencies."
At this moment, loud shouting erupted from downstairs again. The hotel owner, his voice hoarse, seemed unable to suppress the crowd's panic. Someone downstairs was heard yelling something like, "On what grounds?!"
Immediately after, chaotic footsteps echoed in the first-floor lobby.
Judging by the sound, it was the disorganized shuffling of hundreds of feet.
Then came the sound of a crowd of people rushing up the stairs.
The hotel owner was standing in the middle of the first-floor hall, arms spread wide, like a peace envoy calling for love and justice amidst a war. But such envoys usually end up riddled with bullets.
The hotel owner was slightly luckier; he wasn't riddled with bullets, merely pushed to the ground by the crowd rushing up the stairs and stepped on a few times.
People in the hall, panic etched on their faces, were running towards the stairs.
A clamor rose from the crowd.
"If we stay here, we'll freeze to death!"
"Go to the rooms upstairs! It's definitely warmer there than here!"
"Why should they be the only ones allowed to stay in rooms? We want in too!"
The owner lay on the ground, clutching his waist. Every now and then, someone stepped on his back. Occasionally, less agile people tripped over him and fell on top of him.
The owner cried out in misery, feeling as if his back was about to break.
At this moment, he suddenly felt something grab his clothes. Before he could react, the person forcefully pulled him out of the surging crowd.
The owner gasped for breath a few times, then looked up gratefully. Before him stood the woman who had been holding a child earlier.