Chapter 521 Danger
It started to rain.
At first, it was just a few scattered drops, lightly falling on George's eyelashes, the coolness seeping into his skin. He stood on the street, the sound of raindrops hitting the ground softly in his ears, the air filled with the damp scent of earth.
He tilted his head slightly, his empty eyes staring at the gray sky, rainwater sliding down his jaw and soaking his shirt collar. The wound under the bandage was getting wet, a faint sting spreading, but he stood still, as if he couldn't feel the pain.
The street was deserted, with only the occasional car speeding by, splashing water. George fumbled forward, his cane tapping lightly on the slippery ground, but the rain interfered with his sense of touch, causing him to nearly stumble several times.
Suddenly, a piercing horn blared from his right!
George couldn't hear it; his world was filled only with the chaotic sound of rain.
A black sedan screeched to a halt, barely missing his coat. The tires skidded on the wet ground, making a sharp screeching noise. The window rolled down abruptly, and the driver stuck his head out, cursing, "Are you trying to get yourself killed? Can't you see the car?"
George stood there, bewildered, rainwater streaming down his face. He turned his head slightly, trying to locate the sound, but he couldn't see anything.
The driver noticed his vacant eyes and became even more furious. "Damn it, you're blind! What are you doing out here in the middle of the night? Causing trouble for everyone!"
George's fingers curled slightly, rainwater mixed with blood dripping from his wrist, creating a dark red stain on the ground.
The driver cursed again, rolled up the window, and sped off, the wheels splashing dirty water all over George.
He staggered, his soaked shirt clinging to his body, the cold rain seeping into his wound, sending a chill up his spine.
He continued to walk forward, his cane creating small ripples in the puddles.
Suddenly, he slipped.
He fell heavily to the ground, his knee hitting the hard pavement, the sharp pain making him grunt. His palm, pressed against the ground, tore the bandage, blood mixing with rainwater.
He tried to get up, but without being able to see a support point, he failed several times.
The rain poured harder, hitting his back like countless tiny needles.
In the distance, Emma stood in the rain, biting her lip hard, tears mixing with the rain on her face. She watched George kneeling on the ground, her fingers digging into her palms to stop herself from rushing over.
She knew that if she went over now, he would push her away even harder.
George finally managed to stand up, supporting himself on the ground.
His hair was plastered to his forehead, his shirt covered in mud, looking like he had just been pulled out of the water.
He continued to walk forward, his back solitary and stubborn, as if nothing in the world could stop him.
Emma couldn't hold back any longer and quickly ran after him.
"George!" Her voice was almost drowned out by the rain.
He couldn't hear her, still stumbling forward.
Emma couldn't hold back anymore and grabbed him. "George! Are you crazy? Your wound will get infected!"
He shook her hand off violently. "I told you, leave me alone!"
"I won't!" She stood her ground, rainwater streaming down her long hair, her eyelashes covered in droplets. "You want to stay in the rain? Fine, I'll stay with you!"
George's fingers clenched, his knuckles turning even paler. "Emma, what do you want?"
"I want to take you to a hotel," she said, her voice trembling. "You don't want to go to the hospital, fine, but at least don't do this to yourself!"
"I don't need it." He turned to leave.
Emma grabbed him again, her voice breaking. "George! If you don't go, I'll follow you. As long as you stay in the rain, I'll stay with you!"
George's body stiffened, and rainwater mixed with blood dripped from his chin.
"You..." His voice was hoarse. "How long are you going to torture me?"
"It's not me torturing you, it's you torturing me!" Her eyes were red.
George was silent for a long time. Finally, he sighed softly. "Lead the way."
Emma immediately opened an umbrella and carefully supported his arm. George instinctively tried to pull away, but she held on tightly. "Don't move, your wound can't get wet."
He stopped struggling, letting her lead him forward.
The rain poured harder, soaking half of Emma's body, but she stubbornly tilted the umbrella towards him. George noticed and suddenly pushed the umbrella back towards her.
"George!" She was anxious.
"If you keep doing this, I won't go," He threatened coldly.
Emma bit her lip and finally relented, but she quietly moved closer to him, using her body to shield him from the rain.
George noticed her movement, his fingers tightening slightly, but he said nothing.
In the rain, their figures gradually moved away, one tall and one short, but always close together.
Rainwater dripped from her hair as Emma stood at the front desk of the seventh hotel, nervously twisting the hem of her soaked shirt. The apologetic smile of the receptionist made her heart sink.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but all the rooms are booked for Valentine's Day."
"Is there really no other room?" Emma glanced back at George standing in the corner of the lobby. He was drenched, his white shirt clinging to his body, faintly revealing the muscles of his waist and abdomen. The bandage on his arm was soaked, tinged with blood.
The receptionist followed her gaze and suddenly smiled knowingly. "There is one last themed suite available."
"Themed suite is fine!" Emma eagerly handed over her ID.
When the elevator stopped at the top floor, and the pink ambient lighting of the hallway hit her face, Emma realized something was off. The walls were adorned with various abstract art pieces, and upon closer inspection, they were all entwined human figures. Her ears burned instantly.
"What's wrong?" George sensed her hesitation.
"Nothing." Emma forced herself to find the room, her hands trembling as she swiped the card to open the door.
The moment the door opened, she almost screamed. The entire room was designed in an exaggerated heart shape, with a round waterbed in the center, surrounded by mirrored walls. Red drapes hung from the ceiling, and the bedside table was blatantly stocked with various adult toys.
George stood at the door, unmoving. "What kind of place is this?"
"Just a regular hotel," Emma's voice was barely audible.
"When you lie, your voice goes up an octave," George sneered, "Is this a love hotel?"
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