He was taken aback, inexplicably stopping in his tracks, and looked back.
Empty.
Yan Yu was no longer following behind him.
He squinted into the distance, barely able to see her somewhat rounded silhouette.
She had actually walked away.
.
That night, he cooked himself some pasta, mixing in a few beans. Yet eating it felt impossible.
But his stomach was still uncomfortably hungry.
Annoyed, he walked to the fridge, opened it, and looked around. Most items on the shelves and in the containers were supermarket-bought semi-prepared foods, ready to eat after microwaving. But now they seemed like cold corpses, each one pale and cold, unable to spark any appetite.
He gritted his teeth and grabbed his coat to head out.
Just at the bakery downstairs, the counter also offered small desserts. He pointed to many varieties, filling a box to the brim.
Back home, accompanied with red wine, he devoured them one by one.
