Chapter 137: His Head is on Fire, Green Fire
Chapter 137: Chapter 137: His Head is on Fire, Green Fire
Renee: [This is Lana’s info. Can you find out where she is right now?]
Henry Stark replied quickly: [Okay, I’ll arrange it.]
Renee let out a sigh of relief: [Thanks!]
She put down her phone, stretched, and got up to wash up.
While they were having lunch, Dalton Jenson came back with some braised meats and talked about the wild game situation as they ate.
"I asked a colleague, and he gave me a phone number. He said to contact this person if we want to get some wild game." Dalton Jenson pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "The number’s on here."
"Dad, you’re the best." Renee gave him a thumbs-up.
After lunch, she sent the number from the slip of paper to Henry Stark: [I heard this is the number to contact for wild game. Do you want to give it a try?]
Henry Stark: [I’ll arrange it.]
Renee didn’t reply. She sat cross-legged on the sofa, reading her direct messages.
Blueberry scooted up next to her and nuzzled her with his fluffy head. "Renee, what are you doing?"
Renee glanced down at him, an eyebrow raised. "Did you need something?"
Blueberry nodded and let out a meow. "I want to watch TV."
Renee blinked. "What do you want to watch?"
Blueberry: "I want to watch Ultraman fight monsters."
Renee: "...Why would you want to watch that?"
Blueberry: "Mom put it on for us yesterday. It’s actually pretty good!"
Renee pursed her lips. Though a little exasperated, she still put on Ultraman for them.
The little furballs sat in a row on the sofa, and even the Slider in the terrarium watched with rapt attention.
Renee watched with them for a little while before getting up to check the bird feeder on the balcony. Seeing that it was empty, she added some more food.
As she was adding grain to the feeder, she noticed a bird flying over.
"Renee, you’re home!" The Little Sparrow folded its wings and landed on the balcony railing. "That Old Hag brought the white-haired man home with her. Want to go take a look?"
Renee was stunned for a few seconds, but then her eyes lit up. "Watch? I absolutely have to watch."
She went back to the living room, grabbed her phone, and immediately called Dalton Jenson. "Dad, send me Hugh Warren’s cell number."
"Why are you asking for his number?" Dalton Jenson thought his daughter had been acting very strangely the last few days.
Renee: "His place is on fire. I’m calling to let him know."
"What!" Dalton Jenson was startled. "How bad is the fire?"
Renee: "Pretty bad, I think. Just hurry up and send me the number."
"Alright, alright, I’ll send it right now." Dalton Jenson hung up and quickly sent Hugh Warren’s number to Renee.
A colleague next to him asked, "Old Man Jennings, what were you just saying about a fire? Where’s it at?"
Although Dalton Jenson really couldn’t stand Old Hag Crawford, he had a decent impression of Hugh Warren. He frowned and said, "I hear Hugh Warren’s place is on fire."
"What? His place is on fire?"
His other colleagues were startled too.
"Should we go give him a hand?"
"Let’s go check it out. Many hands make light work."
Dalton Jenson thought that was a good idea and nodded. "Alright, let’s go."
After receiving Hugh Warren’s number, Renee went outside the complex and used a pay phone to call him. "Hugh Warren, something terrible has happened! Your apartment is on fire!"
"My apartment is on fire?" Hugh Warren, who had been drinking tea at his office, shot to his feet. "Did someone call the fire department?" he asked anxiously. "I’m heading back right now!"
When his colleagues heard this, they hurried out after him to help.
Dalton Jenson and a few of his colleagues ran into Hugh Warren and his own colleagues at the complex gate. Every single one of them looked frantic and worried.
The two groups hurried toward Building Three.
Renee, sitting at a stone table downstairs, watched them rush into Building Three.
Other neighbors who saw this scene looked on with curiosity.
"What’s going on? Why is Hugh Warren bringing so many people home with him?"
"Should we go up and take a look?"
"Yeah, let’s go see."
Renee tilted her head slightly and saw Rhea Dempsey pull up on her little electric scooter, skidding to a dramatic stop.
"Am I late?" Rhea Dempsey asked, taking off her helmet.
"Nope, you’re right on time. They just went upstairs," Renee said with a wide smile. "Let’s go."
The mother-daughter pair followed the other neighbors upstairs.
Hugh Warren was taking out his keys to unlock the door.
Suddenly, he felt that something was strange.
’Didn’t they say the apartment was on fire?’
’So why is it completely quiet?’
Hugh Warren pushed open the door and saw an unfamiliar pair of men’s shoes by the entrance.
His heart sank, and a sense of unease washed over him.
Seeing Hugh Warren moving so slowly, one of the men behind him impatiently rushed past. "Is the fire in the kitchen? I’ll go check!"
He brushed past Hugh Warren’s shoulder as he dashed into the kitchen, only to find there was no fire at all. "Huh, no fire in here. So where is it?"
"The bedroom?" someone asked, pointing at the closed door. "Maybe the fire’s in there, and someone saw it through the window?"
"I’ll look!" The same man who had checked the kitchen opened the bedroom door. His expression changed instantly upon seeing the scene inside, and he turned to look at Hugh Warren.
"What’s with that look?" Dalton Jenson asked, growing nervous himself. "Is the fire really bad?"
The man pressed his lips together and said with difficulty, "The fire... is on Hugh Warren’s head. A green fire."
Hearing this from the doorway, Renee couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
’This guy’s pretty funny.’
Hugh Warren frowned at those words and walked dubiously to the bedroom door.
Gossiping is human nature, so everyone else crowded in behind him.
When they saw the scene inside the room, everyone’s jaws nearly hit the floor.
"Wha-wha-what..."
"Mrs. Warren, how could you!"
"Good grief, the guy’s hair is completely white. What’s he got that Hugh Warren doesn’t?"
Old Hag Crawford had never imagined someone would show up at the apartment and was now scrambling to put her clothes on.
The old, white-haired man stood beside her in a pair of boxer shorts.
Hugh Warren’s eyes went wide with fury. He roared, "Tiana Crawford, have you lost your mind???"
"What are you yelling about?" Old Hag Crawford snapped. Only then did she notice how many people were in the apartment, and her face darkened. "Dammit, why did you bring so many people back here?"
The white-haired old man leisurely put on his shirt and pants, pulled a wallet from his pocket, and tossed two hundred-yuan bills at her. "I thought your husband knew you were out doing ’business’."
With that, he wiped his nose with his fingers and pushed his way through the crowd of onlookers to leave.
Hugh Warren’s fists clenched in anger. "Are you that desperate for two hundred bucks?"
This was Old Hag Crawford’s only regular client. They met once every two days, and she charged two hundred each time. By seeing him fifteen days a month, she could make three thousand yuan.
Deciding she might as well be brazen about it, she retorted, "Is this about two hundred bucks? It’s about three thousand! I can make three thousand a month just by lying on my back for a bit. Can you, you worthless loser?"
"You..." Hugh Warren couldn’t believe she could be so shameless. "You think this is something to be proud of? You’re actually proud of this?"
Old Hag Crawford sneered. "I’m proud of the money I earn with my own abilities."
"You’re hopeless!" Hugh Warren felt like she had utterly disgraced him, and his face burned with humiliation.
He turned to his colleagues and neighbors and bowed. "I’m sorry, everyone. I’ve made a fool of myself in front of you all."