But the Holy Mahatma didn't care at all. He stepped into the door directly, muttering a little vaguely:

"You old woman, why don't you turn on the lights in the middle of the night?"

As soon as the lights were turned on, some wine, meat and food on the table made the Mahatma's eyes lit up:

"You are still caring and know that I am hungry when I drink only!"

The drowsy Mahatma didn't think so much about it.

He sat on the chair without hesitation and began to feast on his feet.

"Oh my bad old man, this is the first time you have cooked a meal for me in so many years."

"Don't talk about me, don't talk about me! What's the point of not drinking in this life?"

From beginning to end, it was just Mahatma who was talking to himself.

The old woman sitting next to him was silent.

As he ate, the drunken Mahatma threw himself into the old woman's arms and fell asleep.

He only knew that the old woman's arms were so cold and stiff, like a dead body.

"Hehehe, my wife, you have been dead for thirty years. You are still so considerate and so warm..."

The Holy Mahatma suddenly widened his eyes, and the confusion in his eyes dissipated at this moment.

The Mahatma shivered, and the cold occupied his whole body.

he……
Chapter completed!