Green Hotel

At Pudong Airport, it was past midnight. The voice announcement inside the plane called out the names of each passenger in an orderly manner. Everyone listened carefully to see who would be lucky enough to get off first. After getting off the boarding stairs, our disinfected luggage was on both sides, neatly arranged. They naturally formed a path leading to the transfer bus.

The purpose of the bus is not to go to the terminal, but to go directly out of the airport. In my memory, the treatment of having a bus waiting for you after getting off the plane is enjoyed by spies in spy dramas, politicians visiting other countries, or stars who are finally signed by the team. Since my life does not seem to involve the above three scenarios in the near future, I really didn't think it would be my turn. When crossing the empty Pudong elevated road, I temporarily forgot about the quarantine for the next seven days and allowed myself to feel a little excited.

I sat in the front row by the window on the right, looking at the city view in front of me, as if accumulating more real images in my mind to offset the monotony of hotel life in the next week. I took out my phone and opened Gaode Map to compare our actual location and feel the pleasure of mobility. On the bus, opposite me was a billboard promoting a mobile phone card that was convenient for newcomers and provided quick processing.

When I pulled over, I felt the presence of other people. There was a police car in front of us, and we had been standing still on the side of the road for half an hour. Someone started to get impatient and stood up and walked to the driver's seat to ask him for an explanation. The driver didn't know what to say. It was two o'clock in the morning, everyone was exhausted, had no idea of ​​the arrangements, and was fidgeting in the car.

Through the bus window, we saw a line of people preparing to do nucleic acid tests. After they were done, it was our turn. Finally, someone told us to get off the bus. The little boy sitting next to me was asleep. His mother was sitting in the middle row of the bus and had already gotten off. She couldn't go back even if she wanted to. We who hadn't gotten off the bus yet had to wake up her son. Since I was close to him, I was assigned the task of waking him up.

I tried to pat the little boy a few times, but there was no response. "We're here," I whispered to him, and patted him twice more. "It's time to get off the bus." The next sentence in my mind was "It's time to get off the bus for nucleic acid testing," but I stopped myself in time. I really didn't want to be the one to be notified to do nucleic acid testing.

A boy stood in the aisle of the bus, watching closely as I failed to wake the little boy. "Let me do it," he said confidently, taking a step toward us.

"Hey, kid!" He said to the little boy in a slightly louder voice than mine. "Kid!" The little boy was still immersed in his dream. The boy was confused and helpless.

From the back row, an old man stood up and leaned forward, shouting, "Okay, get off! Get off! Go!"

This time, the little boy really woke up. The mother under the car looked up, waiting for the result. I nodded to her, indicating that the child had woken up.

To get to the nucleic acid sampling station, you have to climb three steps first, as if to prepare spiritually for a sacred ceremony. The lady at the sampling station poked my nose and throat twice, and I cursed the heavens. My soul has been purified, and I am eligible to go in and check in. On the transparent glass door, "GreenTree Inn" is engraved in white font. I instantly thought, is there really someone who dares to play with homophones and deliberately set "Green Hotel" as a quarantine hotel? Is this considered high consciousness or shameless blasphemy?

"Please sit down," the staff in protective clothing pointed to the chair opposite him and said to me. The scene was lively, with many people at the table busy filling out forms to get room cards and quickly taking their luggage to take the elevator.

"Do you live alone?" The staff member's question stumped me and made me feel lonely for some reason.

"Yeah," I told him. "Alone."

I took the room card of Room 818, took the elevator, and officially started my life at Green Hotel.