Halloween's Icy Rain (Part Two)

The three pairs of eyes staring intently at the hamburger at the door, their uncontrollable trembling, the glaring sight of rain, mud, and hunger, were like a red-hot iron rod, piercing through the psychological defenses Kong Xiang had been trying to build with calm observation and theoretical analysis. His phrase "hungry ghosts come to the door" that he blurted out in the live broadcast was not just a description, but more like a spiritual cry of despair.

The screen went blank for a moment after he finished speaking, then exploded with unprecedented density and speed:

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!!!"

"That look in his eyes... I'm dead..."

"I'm really hungry! Not just craving it! I'm starving!"

Seattle? A middle-class neighborhood? Halloween??

"Hurry up and give them some food, streamer!!"

"Call the police! Call child protection agencies immediately!"

"Is this United States in 2025???"

"It's broken down, it's really broken down..."

The screen was filled with comments like "I'm devastated," "Tears welling up," and "I can't believe it," a mix of shock, anger, and disbelief. The number of online viewers skyrocketed, starting from just over 5,000, then jumping to 8,000, 15,000, 30,000... The numbers climbed at a dizzying pace.

Kong Xiang could barely see the comments anymore. All his attention and all his senses were focused on the three children shivering in the icy rain at the door, their eyes glued to their food. A sense of responsibility, a mixture of immense shock, sharp heartache, and near-panic, gripped his heart.

"Wait! Wait! Don't go!" Kong Xiang's voice, coming through the voice changer, was clearly panicked and urgent. He turned around abruptly, almost tripping over his own foot. He rushed back to the living room, frantically grabbing the unopened family-sized bag of potato chips that he had prepared for "teaching his son" from the table, and then haphazardly grabbing a few individually wrapped bags of cookies and candies, stuffing them all into a clean supermarket plastic bag.

He rushed back to the door, almost kneeling down, and shoved the bag into the oldest boy's hand. "Here, take this, eat this first!" His voice trembled.

The boy paused for a moment, looked down at the bag shoved into his arms, then looked up at Kong Xiang. His frozen face seemed to be trying to force a thank-you smile, but he failed. He nodded vigorously, then quickly opened the bag, first grabbing a handful of potato chips and stuffing them into his mouth, swallowing them almost without chewing. Then he grabbed two packets of cookies and gave them to his younger sister and the even younger boy next to him.

The three children immediately squatted down on the wet mat in front of Kong Xiang's door, their backs to the icy rain, and began to wolf down their food like three starving little animals. Crumbs of potato chips and biscuits fell onto their soaked clothes and the mat, but they didn't care; they just kept stuffing them into their mouths, making gurgling swallowing sounds. The youngest boy choked because he ate too fast, his face turning red. Kong Xiang quickly rushed in and poured him a glass of warm water.

The live stream camera faithfully recorded everything. The children's almost instinctive, primal greed for food was more impactful than any words. The chat was flooded with comments like "I'm crying," "I can't take it," and "My heart is broken," and the special effects for the gifts started exploding continuously.

Kong Xiang looked at them, his heart aching as if gripped tightly by an invisible hand. Suddenly remembering something, he hurriedly said into the Mike, "No, this isn't enough! In this weather, they definitely haven't had dinner, and their families might also be..." He dared not think any further.

He practically lunged at the living room table, grabbed his phone, his fingers stiff with cold and excitement. He quickly opened the food delivery app, found the nearest 24-hour McDonald's's, and began frantically placing orders.

"Big Mac meal... Classic meal... Kids' meal... Forty servings? No, fifty servings!" he muttered to himself, his fingers flying across the screen. "Urgent! Fastest speed! Notes... Just write 'Urgent! My child is starving!' Pay..." He glanced at the estimated amount, didn't even blink, and directly paid with his fingerprint for what was not a small sum for him.

Order submitted successfully. Estimated delivery time: 25-35 minutes.

Kong Xiang put down his phone, exhaling a long breath that left a trail of white mist. He then realized his palms were covered in cold sweat, and his back was soaked. He looked back at the doorway. The three children had finished their chips and cookies and were carefully folding the wrappers. The older boy was even picking up the crumbs that had fallen on the floor and putting them back in the bag. They seemed to have regained some strength, but their eyes still kept glancing into the house, especially at the now-cold hamburger on the table.

"Come in, come in and wait, it's too cold outside." Kong Xiang quickly stepped aside to make way for the doorway.

The children hesitated for a moment, looked at each other, but ultimately their desire for warmth and the possibility of food overcame their shyness. They carefully shuffled into the warm entryway, their shoes still soaked. Kong Xiang found some clean old towels for them to dry their hair and turned up the temperature of the living room air conditioner.

In the few minutes he was settling the children in, the doorbell rang again.

This time it was four children, a bit older, both boys and girls, all dressed in the same thin, soaking wet clothes, in the same state as the previous three. Then two more groups arrived, three, two... In less than half an hour, the rented house of Kong Xiang was packed with more than a dozen children of varying ages, all having braved the rain from the nearby streets. They were unusually quiet, rarely speaking, just huddled in the corner of the living room, on the carpet, or leaning against the wall, their gazes involuntarily drifting again and again towards the kitchen, towards Kong Xiang's constantly checking phone.

They were all hungry. Kong Xiang confirmed this from their occasional hushed conversations and body language. Some children took the candy that had been prepared for them, carefully hiding it in their pockets, saying, "I'll save it for my little brother." Some of the older children whispered to their companions that their mothers had told them to "ask for more candy for tomorrow's breakfast."

The number of viewers in the live stream has exceeded 100,000 and is still soaring. The comments have changed from initial shock and anger to anxious waiting and prayers for the food delivery to arrive quickly. Everyone understands now that this is not an isolated case. This is a group of children in a developed United States city, on a festive night that should be filled with joy, braving the rain because of hunger.

"The delivery driver has accepted the order... picking up the food..." Kong Xiang refreshed his phone every few minutes, reporting to the camera in a hoarse voice, as if this was the only thing that could keep him calm. Every minute felt like an eternity.

Twenty-five minutes felt like twenty-five hours.

Finally, my phone rang, and the notification sound of my food delivery was like heavenly music.

Kong Xiang practically sprang from the sofa and rushed to the door. A somewhat old Toyota Corolla was parked on the side of the road, and a plump Black woman wearing a fluorescent raincoat with the food delivery platform's logo was struggling to pull two huge insulated bags with the McDonald's's logo from the trunk. The rain was still falling, and water dripped continuously from the edge of her rain hat.

Kong Xiang rushed into the rain and helped her carry the heavy insulated bag to the eaves by the door.

"Thank you, thank you. It's so late and it's raining," Kong Xiang said breathlessly, his voice distorted through the voice changer.

"It's nothing, it's what I should do." The Black woman looked up, wiping the rain from her face, revealing a tired but gentle expression; she looked to be in her fifties. Her gaze swept over the children gathered at the doorway, their eyes filled with longing. A complex emotion flickered in her eyes—understanding, sympathy, and a bittersweet sense of shared suffering. "May God bless these children," she murmured.

A thought struck Kong Xiang. As the woman turned to leave, he quickly pulled a Big Mac from the still-warm insulated bag and handed it to her. "This... please have some, to warm yourself up."

The woman froze, staring at the warm hamburger in her hand, then looked up at Kong Xiang (though his face was obscured by shadows and the brim of his raincoat). Her lips trembled, and suddenly, without warning, tears mingled with the rain and rolled down her cheeks.

She stepped forward and gave Kong Xiang a tight, brief hug, her voice choked with emotion. "Thank you... thank you so much... I've been running around all night and haven't even had a chance to eat anything hot... I... I have to earn bail for my son; he's still inside..." She couldn't go on. She let go of his hand, looked deeply at Kong Xiang, then at the children in the house, turned and rushed into the rain, starting the old car.

Kong Xiang stood there, his hands still damp and cold from the woman's embrace, the words "earn bail money" echoing in his ears. Yet another person driven to the brink by life.

But he didn't have time to think about it. The children had already gathered around, staring longingly at the insulated bag.

"Line up! Line up to get yours! Everyone gets one! Don't rush!" Kong Xiang took a deep breath and shouted at the top of his lungs, suppressing the soreness in his throat.

He transformed into the most efficient distributor. The children instantly formed a crooked but unusually quiet line. Kong Xiang opened the insulated bag, and the rich aroma of fried food and bread instantly filled the air, mingling with the damp chill outside to create a strange and heartbreaking atmosphere.

"One Big Mac, one order of fries, and one Coke. Here you go."

"I... I need two servings... my sister is home..."

"I'll get one for my dad..."

"And my mother..."

As soon as the children received their food, some tore open the packaging and took big bites, while others carefully held it in their arms, hurriedly said a mumbled thank you to Kong Xiang, and then turned and rushed into the rain to run home. As the children who had received their food left, new children, attracted by sporadic information from neighbors or social media, joined the line.

Forty hamburgers and fifty meal sets were distributed in less than twenty minutes.

The last few children who hadn't received theirs stood in the gradually lessening rain, staring at their empty insulated bags. Finally, they couldn't hold back anymore and burst into tears, their cries particularly piercing in the quiet, rainy night. Kong Xiang looked at them, his heart aching, and could only repeatedly utter weak, feeble words. "It's all gone, really all gone... I'm sorry... Tomorrow, I'll buy more tomorrow..."

He finally couldn't hold on any longer, closed the door, leaned against the cold door panel, and slowly slid to the floor. A few children who had received food were still in the room, quietly eating in a corner, but they would leave soon. The living room was a mess, with water stains, wrappers, and food scraps everywhere.

The live stream captured his entire journey, from initial shock to frantic action, to efficient distribution, and finally, his collapse from exhaustion. The number of viewers online was approaching 800,000, and the chat was flooded with tear emojis and long, silent "...".

Kong Xiang removed the voice changer, his real, weary voice exposed to the air—hoarse, trembling, carrying the exhaustion of someone who had just survived a catastrophe and a bottomless sorrow.

"This isn't Ghost Festival..."

He gazed into the void, murmured, and tears finally streamed down his face silently.

This is hell on earth.

He reached out and turned off the live stream.

The screen suddenly went black.

Domestically, late at night. Study.

On the huge LCD screen, the last scene before the "Prisoner A" live broadcast went black was playing. Kong Xiang's words "hell on earth" still seemed to echo in the quiet study.

Lü Yi stood there, motionless, as if nailed to the ground. His eyes were wide open, bloodshot, his nostrils flared uncontrollably, and his chest heaved violently. Every scene from the live broadcast—the children's hungry eyes, the Black woman's collapsing tears, Kong Xiang's entire process from shock to action, and that final desperate whisper—felt like the heaviest Iron Hammer, each blow striking his heart. He considered himself to have seen his share of storms and not to be soft-hearted, but what he had witnessed tonight was completely beyond his comprehension and capacity to bear.

He turned around abruptly and looked at Lin Feng, who had been sitting silently in his chair. Lin Feng's face was expressionless; he was simply staring at the blacked-out screen, his eyes deep and unreadable. But Lü Yi could sense that the air around his boss seemed even more stagnant and heavy than usual.

"Boss..." Lü Yi began, his voice hoarse and nasal, tears finally streaming down his face uncontrollably. He wiped his face haphazardly, like a helpless and angry child, almost shouting through his sobs:

"Can we... help them?!"

"Those children... that old lady... Kong Xiang, he..." Lü Yi stammered, overwhelmed by immense grief and helplessness, "Can't... can't you think of a way?! Boss!"

He stared intently at Lin Feng, his eyes filled with an almost desperate hope. In his mind, the boss was practically omnipotent. If there was anyone in this world who could change anything, it was the boss.

Lin Feng slowly turned his head, his gaze falling on Lü Yi's face, who was completely emotionally broken. His gaze was deep and calm, and he did not immediately respond to Lü Yi's tearful pleas.

In the study, only Lü Yi's suppressed sobs and the eternal, indifferent clamor of the city outside the window remained.

Lin Feng turned his gaze back to the dark screen, and after a long, long time, he let out a long, almost inaudible sigh that seemed to carry a thousand pounds of weight.

He fell into deep thought.