When the alarm clock rang for the third time, Yan Muxi got up from the bed.
He reached for the bedside table, touched the phone screen with his fingers, pressed the piercing ringtone, and then shrank back into the quilt. It was just dawn outside the window, and the late December wind came in through the cracks in the window, bringing with it a dry and cold smell. He lay there for about thirty seconds, then finally sat up resignedly, rubbed his eyes and yawned.
The rental house was not big, about twenty square meters, with a bed, a cabinet, and a table. There were a few well-worn professional books and two instant noodle buckets piled on the table. The radiator in the corner made a gurgling sound, but the heat was only so much, and he had to wear thick socks to sleep at night.
Yan Muxi stepped on the floor with her bare feet, excited, and quickly put on her slippers. He walked to the table, picked up the three-year-old thermos cup, unscrewed the lid and smelled it. The leftover tea from yesterday was already cold and had a bitter taste. He poured the water, took some hot water, and drank from the cup in small sips.
