The corridor was narrow, the lights dim, the wall paint peeling off slightly, and the air filled with a damp moldy smell.
The floor was covered with a faded red carpet, soft as you stepped on it, with some spots bulging.
As the two walked inside, they encountered a guest, a man in his forties, wearing a dirty work uniform. Seeing them, he gave them a strange look, sized them up, muttered something under his breath, and quickly walked away.
Feng Jiuge frowned, having felt something unsettling about the man's gaze.
They reached the innermost room and unlocked the door with a key, greeted by a stale odor.
The room was small, with a double bed, an old-fashioned wardrobe, a small television whose condition was questionable, and a window facing a wall with no view.
The curtains were that kind of old-fashioned floral fabric, washed to the point of fading, with some torn corners.
The sheets looked clean, but the pillow had a faint moldy smell.
"This place is in terrible condition."
