Yan Guizhou woke up from hunger.
It was as if there was an invisible hand twisting in his stomach, and waves of empty cramps pulled him out of the chaos of being half asleep. He opened his eyes and saw the familiar water stain on the ceiling, shaped like a smashed abstract map, looking at him quietly.
The air was filled with a complex smell of instant noodle seasoning packets and moldy old wood. This is the unique smell of his kennel.
"Fuck..."
He squeezed out a hoarse single note from his throat and sat up on the mattress, moving as slowly as a rusty robot. The sun squeezed in through the cracks in the untied curtains, cutting out a dazzling band of light with countless dust floating in it.
He glanced at the bedside table. The last bucket of seafood and tonkotsu ramen-flavored instant noodles was empty and lying there, like a small corpse.
Food is out.
