Chen Shang lowered the edge of the umbrella slightly, concealing his face to avoid direct eye contact with anyone passing by. He suspected that his complexion must have turned ghostly pale after the transformation, and the lingering weakness filled every inch of his body. As he walked down the street, every passerby felt like the most delicious delicacy in the world to him.
It was like being someone who had just indulged in a marathon of indulgence and hadn't eaten for days. The people around him might as well have been walking, talking fried chicken sandwiches, their presence tempting him with the scent of blood like a tantalizing whisper: "Come on, have a taste."
Chen Shang was exerting all his willpower just to keep moving forward, trying to reach his destination as quickly as possible before he lost control.
The "black hotel" he headed toward wasn't the type of seedy, crime-ridden place found in fiction, where shootouts were common, and corpses were hidden in rooms. Places like that would have been shut down by the authorities long ago. Instead, a black hotel was simply a cheap, sketchy inn that operated without asking for an ID, offering the bare minimum in terms of facilities and infrastructure. In short, it was the kind of place that cut corners at every opportunity.
These places were known for having minimal surveillance and multiple exits, the former because the shady owners didn't want to spend money on security cameras, and the latter because they catered to clientele who preferred to avoid the law. If the authorities showed up, guests could make a quick escape.
Inside the hotel, Chen Shang closed his umbrella and approached the front desk. He casually threw 300 yuan on the counter and asked for a room. The disinterested receptionist tossed a key in his direction.
"Until 8 a.m. tomorrow. If you stay an extra hour, it's another fifty," the receptionist said, barely looking at him.
Chen Shang ignored the remark and made his way up the stairs.
"Ha, another junkie. You can tell just by looking at him. He's practically dead already, what's he acting all high and mighty for?" the receptionist muttered after pocketing the money, clearly unimpressed.
This behavior, however, was perfectly normal for a place like this. The clientele often consisted of washed-up addicts, so their appearances and attitudes were predictable—disheveled, defeated, yet trying to maintain a façade of toughness.
Upstairs, Chen Shang found his room, locked the door behind him, and drew the curtains shut without turning on the lights. Taking out his phone, he used its camera to scan the room in the darkness.
As expected, a small red light blinked from the wall opposite the bed.
With practiced ease, Chen Shang disabled the hidden camera, tossed it on a nearby table, and quipped, "Not only do they rip people off, but they also sell footage. Ah, the peace and quiet of a black hotel."
He switched on the light and scrolled through his phone's contact list until he found a familiar number.
"Seventh Brother, it's me, Chen Shang. No, no, not what you think. I wanted to ask if your business deals in blood. Yeah, no, I'm not desperate enough to sell blood, don't worry. I'm looking to buy some—O-type, 20,000 cc if you have it. Yep, right now. I'm in Black 2303."
After hanging up, Chen Shang sighed. The person he'd contacted was a shady character he'd met by chance, someone who could provide people or resources for the right price—no questions asked. It was convenient, so Chen Shang had kept their contact information.
In his high school days, Chen Shang's unusual personality often drew unwanted attention, so having connections like this occasionally came in handy. Little did he expect that this particular connection would prove useful in his current situation.
Now, a bit more about Chen Shang: he was one of the fortunate "demolition heirs." His parents had left him an ancestral home that had been demolished and rebuilt into valuable real estate, granting him enough wealth to live comfortably for the rest of his life. The building destroyed in the recent plane crash? Chen Shang owned a quarter of that property. Besides that, he had a vacation villa in another location.
In the near future, he could also expect a hefty insurance payout and compensation from the crash, which would further bolster his already comfortable lifestyle. This, along with his wealth, had allowed him to build some useful connections over the years. After all, when you have enough money, you can even make the impossible happen.
Chen Shang knew quite a few people involved in shady businesses, but the one he called—Seventh Brother—was likely the only one who could provide such a large amount of blood on short notice.
However, Qigewas a bit... complicated.
Before long, there was a knock on the door. Looking through the peephole, Chen Shang saw the familiar face of Qigealong with two lackeys. He opened the door.
"Yo, Chen Shang! Miss me?" The person at the door rushed in and threw an arm around Chen Shang's neck, pulling him down to the same height.
"Seventh Brother, if you could change the way you greet people, I'd be eternally grateful," Chen Shang wheezed, struggling to breathe.
It wasn't that Qigewas particularly strong, but rather that Chen Shang found himself smothered between two enormous... assets.
As you might have guessed, this so-called Qige was, in fact, a woman.
This book comes from：m.funovel.com。