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Thirty-third floor, Room 3301, Guding stood at the door and had just raised his hand to knock when he heard an old voice, "Come in!"
Guding reached out to turn the handle; the door wasn't locked. He pushed it open and entered.
The room was spacious, bright, and exquisitely furnished. A tall, white-bearded old man sat in a wheelchair, smiling at Guding.
"Would you like something to drink? It wasn't until I stayed at this hotel that I discovered they have a collection of wine aged 880 years, almost as old as I am. But since you don't drink wine, would you prefer tea or juice?" The old man spoke kindly.
"I... no need," Guding shook his head as he noticed the man's mobility issues.
"Do you think I'm a disabled person and feel embarrassed to speak up?" The old man slightly moved his finger, and a glass seemed to be pulled by something and quickly landed in his hand, "You seem to prefer sugary drinks like juice, so I'll make you a favorite of mine."
