Heath soon finished a bowl of noodles in clear broth and brought it over to Mr. Qingshui. But the moment he approached, he couldn't help frowning. Still, he held it in and calmly served Mr. Qingshui his noodles, then returned to the kitchen. If he stayed any longer, Heath felt he wouldn't be able to stop himself from gasping for air.
"Could this Mr. Qingshui... be one of those internet café lifers?" Heath rubbed his nose. Watching Mr. Qingshui eagerly eat his noodles, he had his suspicions. After all, there was something rather distinctive about the man.
When Heath had approached him just now, he had smelled a stench, a mixture of foot odor and body odor that made his scalp crawl. If he hadn't been sparing Mr. Qingshui's feelings, Heath would have wanted to say something. And looking closely now, he could tell there were problems with Mr. Qingshui's clothes, too. Although they looked fine at first glance, he could still tell they were clothes he had worn before. His terrible hygiene, together with his trips to the internet café, made Heath strongly suspect that he was an internet café lifer.
Internet café lifers were a peculiar group that had existed for ages yet seemed to be everywhere. Their most notable trait was that they spent practically every day in internet cafés, morning, noon, and night. They played games when they woke up and logged off to sleep when they got tired. Even the café attendants came to recognize them. Those who stayed online for particularly long stretches would receive special treatment, such as a server bringing over a drink or something to eat, then tactfully reminding them to go home and sleep so they wouldn't suddenly die in the café.
Fortunately, Mr. Qingshui ate quickly, then left his