After the performance ended, everyone chatted while cleaning up the site. Xie Lan and Dou Sheng dismantled sixteen camera setups together—lenses, cameras, tripods—filling two whole roller suitcases.

The group carried their things and trudged toward the school gate. Xie Lan carried his violin on his back, mentally planning to buy a cup of milk tea.

He wanted an Oolong tea base, full sugar, added cheese foam, sprinkled with cocoa powder—the one called “Chang’an.”

Dou Sheng suddenly muttered beside him, “I plan to go buy a cup of milk tea. Haven’t had ‘Chang’an’ in a long time.”

“!”

Xie Lan jerked his head around to stare at him, his pupils trembling slightly.

Dou Sheng subconsciously touched his face. “What’s wrong?”

Xie Lan said blankly, “No…”

Can Dou Sheng read minds?

He had learned about a mysterious witchcraft society at his school in the UK, where members claimed they could read minds.

Xie Lan paused, cleared his mind of distractions, and tried to think a thought internally: Dou Sheng is sick in the head.

He thought it three times, then secretly glanced at the person beside him.

Dou Sheng said with a beaming smile, “I know what you’re thinking. Do you feel like that chord progression we did just now was really in sync?”

“…”

Xie Lan returned to his expressionless face. “En, I’m praising you.”

---

When they reached the entrance of the milk tea shop, Chen Ge spoke up. “Leaving first.”

The group’s chatter stopped. Dai You patted his shoulder. “Let’s go together, brother. We haven’t eaten together in a long time.”

“I have stuff to do at home.” Chen Ge dodged the touch without changing his expression.

The girls didn’t make a sound; no one tried to persuade him, but no one nodded either. It stayed awkward like that for two seconds until Dou Sheng looked up from his phone screen and said carelessly, “Ah, bye-bye.”

Chen Ge glanced at him, then turned to leave.

As he passed Dou Sheng and Xie Lan, he stopped again and said to Dou Sheng, “However much you gave the others, give me the same amount.”

Dou Sheng curled his lip. “I’m giving everyone twenty or thirty thousand. Would I shortchange you just because you aren’t in Class 4 or something? If you don’t believe me, ask them.”

“Ah…” Liu Yixuan looked at Dou Sheng as if she were looking at a ghost. “Yes, he did say he’d give a maximum of thirty thousand.”

Chen Ge frowned, seemingly a bit unsure. After a good while, he waved his hand impatiently. “Whatever.”

In the moment he brushed past, Xie Lan noticed a thick layer of foundation at the corner of his mouth. Beneath the makeup was a faint bruise that hadn’t been completely covered.

Dou Sheng waited until he had walked far away before sighing. “At least he knows to cover the injuries on his face and wear clean clothes for the camera.”

Dai You face was full of worry. “What exactly is he doing right now? Being a hired thug? Why does he have new injuries every time we see him?”

“Who knows.” Dou Sheng withdrew his gaze from the alley entrance where Chen Ge had disappeared and said indifferently, “Don’t worry about him.”

---

After eating, they hurriedly dropped the equipment off at home and rushed back to school, stepping in right as the evening self-study bell rang. Dou Sheng pressed his hand on the desk and flew into his seat. Before his butt even hit the chair, he had already opened his tablet, ready to transfer the footage from the memory card to the hard drive.

Xie Lan couldn’t help but ask, “Is it really that urgent?”

Dou Sheng whispered, “It must be uploaded before tomorrow morning. Otherwise, screen recordings will steal the heat, and you won’t get any data.”

He paused, then asked, “You’re the main creator. Do you know how to use Final Cut Pro, or PR?”

FCP and PR were both editing software. Xie Lan could use both, but he stared at Dou Sheng for a moment, feeling that the sentence just now was a bit strange.

It was phrased as a question, but it didn’t sound like an inquiry; it sounded more like a confirmation of a fact Dou Sheng already knew.

Xie Lan couldn’t figure it out, so he just nodded. “I can do both. Lend me your computer when we get back to the dorm.”

“It’ll be too late by the time we get back to the dorm,” Dou Sheng said immediately. “During evening study, we can organize the flow first. List out the shots you want to stitch together, and we’ll split the work when we get back.”

Xie Lan was confused. “Why have you suddenly become so ambitious?”

Dou Sheng let out a long sigh. “First time being the main creator. Xie Lan, little friend, ambition must be used on the blade’s edge!”

Blade’s edge?

Xie Lan looked at him, seemingly understanding yet not, and gave an “Oh.”

---

Sixteen camera angles, each with a complete twenty minutes of footage. Although the volume was large, fortunately, they were all fixed angles, so the timeline was easy to align.

Back at the dorm, Xie Lan started directly with the three panoramic angles, watching and cutting as he went. Dou Sheng, using the list Xie Lan had organized during evening study, went into the other footage to find the specific shots he wanted to splice in, pulling out the exact timestamps of the clips.

Outside in the corridor, it was noisy, but the small room was very quiet, filled only with the ka-ka sound of the computer hard drive and the clicking of the mouse.

Dou Sheng said, “Number 4, 2 minutes 15 seconds 22 to 19 seconds 18. Side close-up of the Totoro Pipa position.”

“En.”

“Actually, I think 2 minutes 12 works too. The wind blew a bit, and the finger movement plucking the Pipa looked really nice.”

“Okay.”

Xie Lan casually typed what Dou Sheng said into the memo pad at the top right of the screen. His mouse clicked on the timeline, his left hand proficiently pressing the shortcut keys.

He hadn’t actually edited a video in a long time. He thought he would be rusty—multi-layer cutting, time magnification, panning the timeline… if asked what the shortcut keys were, he truly wouldn’t be able to recall them. But the moment his hand rested on the keyboard, the subconscious movements took over. He didn’t need to think at all, as if those commands were imprinted in his DNA.

The first song, My Neighbor Totoro, took nearly two hours to cut. They edited until Dai You and Wang Gou came back from the dorm study room. Afraid of disturbing their sleep, Xie Lan and Dou Sheng grabbed their equipment and snuck out of the dorm room.

Before leaving, Dou Sheng grabbed a handful of chocolates from his locker, unwrapped one, and handed it to Xie Lan. “This is the true video editing artifact. Essential for pulling an all-nighter. You finished Totoro?”

Xie Lan sucked on the rich sweetness in his mouth and gave a hum.

“Have the subtitles and audio tracks been aligned?”

Xie Lan swallowed the chocolate before speaking. “I said I finished cutting it, that definitely includes those.”

Dou Sheng let out a long breath and smiled. “Only an hour and a half. Your efficiency is a bit high.”

Xie Lan just glanced at him and didn’t make a sound.

Actually, the efficient one wasn’t just him, but also Dou Sheng. Xie Lan had paid classmates to help him find footage before, but laymen always marked the timeline incorrectly. When he cut it, he’d find it wasn’t the shot he wanted at all, or sometimes completely irrelevant, which was a headache.

But perhaps he and Dou Sheng shared some tacit aesthetic understanding, or maybe it was the shared professionalism of million-follower uploaders. Dou Sheng found things very accurately, precise down to the millisecond. Every clip cut using the time parameters Dou Sheng provided was exactly the segment Xie Lan had in his mind, without a single error.

The collaboration experience was so silky smooth it was comfortable.

It was already 11:00 PM. High school sophomores slept early, and several rooms were already dark.

Dou Sheng and Xie Lan moved chairs to the stairwell to continue grinding. The motion-sensor light went out every few seconds. Dou Sheng looked down at the footage; when the light died, he would give a soft “En” to make it light up again.

That low voice always made Xie Lan detach from his editing thoughts for a brief second. He wasn’t thinking about anything specifically, but he would just notice that voice. Not the kind of noticing where one is annoyed by noise, but an indescribable sense of presence.

In his peripheral vision, Dou Sheng’s slender fingers swiped back and forth on the screen. Every movement held that same sense of presence.

The moment the time in the bottom right corner of the computer changed from 23:59 to 00:00, Xie Lan happened to press the save key, saving the completed second song.

Then, the computer screen went black without warning.

“Holy sh*t!!!”

Dou Sheng, who had just leaned over to look, let out a scream and bounced up from his chair, running up several steps before turning back to stare at Xie Lan, who was sitting in place holding the computer.

Xie Lan was stunned. “Do you have some kind of brain disease?”

“Did you see the time? The computer went black the instant it hit midnight.” Dou Sheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Don’t you think that’s weird? The Hour of the Rat, when a hundred ghosts walk.”

“??”

Xie Lan’s face was sour. “I only saw a coward.”

He paused, then added, “A coward as timid as a bean.”

Dou Sheng tutted and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Check what’s wrong with the screen.”

Xie Lan was already checking. The computer had sound, and the mainframe was obviously still working, but the screen wouldn’t light up. He pressed Ctrl+S to save, shut down, and restarted. The startup sound played, but the screen remained pitch black.

Dou Sheng hopped down the steps in two or three strides and snapped the computer shut. “It’s cold (dead). Dropping the chain at the critical moment.”

Xie Lan asked subconsciously, “What do we do?”

“What can we do? We can only use it as an external drive. We need to find a monitor.”

Xie Lan was blank. “Where do we find a monitor?”

…

If he had known that the “find a monitor” Dou Sheng spoke of meant finding an internet cafe, Xie Lan would never have agreed. Domestic formal internet cafes restricted minors, but the one Dou Sheng brought him to didn’t care at all. The crowd was mixed, and the environment was extremely poor.

It was already the middle of the night. The men playing games in the cafe were still shouting battle cries that shook the heavens. The smell of takeout food permeated the air, and even the non-smoking section drifted with the scent of nicotine from the smoking area.

Xie Lan sat in the cracked leather computer chair, looking at the faux leather flakes falling onto his jeans, and began to shut down socially.

Behind him, a “bro” slammed his keyboard with a bang. “Top laner has a pig’s brain! I am truly f***ed!!”

Dou Sheng reminded him in a low voice from the side, “Don’t learn any of the words you hear here.”

Xie Lan looked at him spookily. “Thank you for the reminder.”

Dou Sheng couldn’t help but laugh. “When did you learn to be so weirdly sarcastic (Yin-Yang tone)?”

Heh.

Xie Lan sneered, connected the computer to the internet cafe’s screen, and reluctantly began to operate.

Actually, after switching to a large screen, pulling the timeline was more accurate. Once immersed in the subtle flow state, editing video here was completely fine.

Xie Lan edited the video while listening to Dou Sheng report the timestamps. It was strange; surrounding them were shouts of killing, tables and chairs being beaten frantically, yet Dou Sheng’s low voice remained very clear. It was as if the noisier the surroundings became, the more presence that low, somewhat magnetic youthful voice had.

At 1:00 AM, Xie Lan finished editing the third song and began to conceive how to fade out the ending.

He asked casually, “We skipped sleeping in the dorm again. Will we be checked by Old Hu?”

Dou Sheng said without lifting his head, “Put your heart at rest (Don’t worry at all). The dorm supervisor checked the dorms after ten. We were both there then. As long as we don’t go back tonight, how could Hu Xiujie catch us?”

True.

Xie Lan relaxed and looked back at the “bro” who had fallen asleep twisted in his chair.

“So… we’re really sleeping here?” His heart felt a bit bitter.

Dou Sheng raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we agree? Experiencing hardcore domestic high school life together.”

Xie Lan’s face was numb. “Keep lying. Who else in our class lives this kind of high school life besides you?”

For the final fade-out, Xie Lan ultimately chose a clip recorded before the venue setup. On the clean lawn, the wind blew the Wutong (Phoenix) trees, making them sway gently. Two Wutong leaves spun as they fell from the tree. The group shot of the band flashed back like a memory surfacing, and the camera slowly panned up, stopping at the blue-washed sky.

— Early Summer Wutong Grassland Symphony

by Yinghua High School Class 2-4.

The more beautiful the shot, the more deafening the snoring behind them.

Utopia and Reality.

Xie Lan typed the last character, tossed the mouse aside, and sighed. “I can’t see any problems.”

Dou Sheng placed a hand on his shoulder, tapping his fingers on Xie Lan’s collarbone as if playing the piano. “Good work. I’ll take another look.”

Once it passed 2:00 AM, Xie Lan’s brain went a bit numb, and his Chinese ability was basically lost. He didn’t like staying up late, so he tried hard to curl himself up on the shabby chair, hugging his knees to get some sleep.

The surroundings quieted down too. He rested his mind in the dark for a while, then couldn’t help looking up at Dou Sheng.

Dou Sheng was carefully checking the video. Looking up from a low angle, his shoulder blades protruded a bit more than usual. In youth, it seemed clothes were held up by skeletal frames, but Dou Sheng wore it well. It was the kind of good looks that made people’s gazes linger, wanting to measure his whole being with their eyes.

Xie Lan watched for a while, felt a bit dizzy, and buried his head again.

Actually, he had a very happy day today. Even though he was currently curled up miserably in an internet cafe, listening to the occasional click of Dou Sheng’s mouse, he felt a sense of satisfaction.

---

He woke up with body aches, surrounded by silence.

Xie Lan opened his eyes. The internet cafe had no curtains, and the messy space was shrouded in morning light. The guys who had pulled an all-nighter were all asleep, and Dou Sheng was also slumped over the computer desk.

The screen was dark, but the laptop was still running. Xie Lan subconsciously touched the space bar. The interface that lit up was his Bilibili backend; the video upload was successful and was in the review queue.

The sound of the space bar woke Dou Sheng. He struggled up from the table and stretched.

“What time is it?” Dou Sheng’s voice was a bit hoarse.

“Five-fifty,” Xie Lan said.

Dou Sheng looked at the computer and let out a long breath. “Finally uploaded successfully. Let’s go, let’s go back to the classroom to sleep.”

Xie Lan put on his backpack and followed behind Dou Sheng, carefully stepping around a drunk man sleeping on the floor hugging a wine bottle.

He walked to the door but couldn’t help looking back at the man to ensure he was still alive—his belly rose and fell with his breathing.

Xie Lan sighed. “What was that term you used for Che Ziming last time? Grand Exhibition of Confusing Human Behaviors?”

Dou Sheng didn’t reply.

Just as Xie Lan was about to turn his head to ask again, Dou Sheng suddenly grabbed his wrist and forcibly dragged him from the doorway to behind the door.

Like a movie secret agent using the door as cover, standing flat against the wall.

Xie Lan was a bit dazed. “What’s wrong?”

Enemies outside?

Dou Sheng looked like he had seen a ghost, whispering, “Hu… Xiu… Jie…”

Xie Lan went numb instantly. “Why would she be here?”

Dou Sheng gritted his teeth. “How should I know?”

From outside the door came an icy female voice— “Come out! Dou Sheng, Xie Lan, I saw you.”

“…………”

There was a small round mirror hanging by the internet cafe door. Xie Lan looked at his and Dou Sheng’s faces in the mirror and faintly saw a word written on their foreheads.

— DANGER! (Wei)

He reasonably suspected that he had encountered Mercury Retrograde recently. A Chinese-style retrograde. His retrograde orbit had crashed into the asteroid Hu Xiujie. Every violation resulted in getting caught; a 100% catch rate.

The two of them, stripped of vitality and with no light in their eyes, stepped out over the broken threshold.

Dou Sheng asked gloomily, “Teacher, you’re a master. How did you catch us?”

Hu Xiujie’s face was erupting with anger. She lifted her foot as if to kick. Dou Sheng didn’t dodge, but she restrained herself, only staring fiercely at the two of them.

“Routine inspection of internet cafes near the school.”

Dou Sheng couldn’t help whispering, “If I’d known, we should have gone back to the dorm in the middle of the night.”

Hu Xiujie couldn’t hold back this time and gave him a smack.

After striking Dou Sheng, she sneered at Xie Lan. “What was it for this time? Stress so high you needed to come to an internet cafe to vent?”

Xie Lan whispered, “No, urgent video editing. My own computer broke.”

Hu Xiujie’s face went numb. “Have I or have I not said not to let extracurricular activities delay normal study and life?”

Xie Lan answered truthfully, “You haven’t.”

Hu Xiujie stumbled, her heel almost stepping into a crack in the floor tiles. Dou Sheng quickly steadied her. “You said it, you said it. You didn’t say it to Xie Lan, you said it to me. You said it many times.”

Hu Xiujie sneered. “Do you know what to do?”

Xie Lan and Dou Sheng sighed in sync.

“We know.”

“We know.”

---

After the Grassland Concert video passed the review, the data skyrocketed. The platform operations sent Xie Lan an internal message, congratulating him on being rated as a “Newcomer” and saying they wanted to make a poster.

However, the Newcomer himself couldn’t spare a moment to reply to messages. He didn’t even attend morning classes; he was lying on the corridor wall writing a self-criticism.

Hu Xiujie was furious this time. She ordered that if the self-criticism wasn’t finished before the interval exercises, she would call their parents directly. No one else’s pleading would work.

The morning class happened to be Chinese. Old Qin ran out during the reading break and looked with melancholy at the self-criticism Xie Lan was pressing against the wall.

“‘Committing crimes and violations’… surely that word is too harsh. Change it quickly.”

He sighed deeply. “Dou Sheng, can’t you help him?”

Dou Sheng bit his pen cap, writing like the wind. He glanced at Xie Lan and mumbled, “Don’t write anymore. I’ll do it for you, like I promised last time.”

Hearing this, Xie Lan immediately said thank you, tore up the garbage he had written, and stuffed it into his pocket.

Old Qin immediately turned around, waving his hand. “I didn’t hear anything, I didn’t see anything. You two behave yourselves.”

The weather today wasn’t bad. The wind outside the window blew into the corridor, neither cold nor hot.

Xie Lan hadn’t eaten breakfast and felt a bit dizzy. He reached into Dou Sheng’s pocket and fished out two chocolates.

“Want one?” he asked.

Dou Sheng continued writing with divine speed. “Peel one for me.”

Xie Lan tore open the wrapper, plucked the pen cap from Dou Sheng’s mouth, and stuffed the chocolate in.

He hadn’t rested well; headache; annoyed. When he was annoyed, he couldn’t write the self-criticism and was too lazy to check the video stats. He just wanted to stand in this empty corridor, feeling the wind, holding chocolate in his mouth, listening to the shua shua shua of Dou Sheng writing the script, and quietly zone out for a while.

After a moment, Xie Lan suddenly remembered something. “Do we really have to read it under the red flag? The kind the whole school can hear?”

Dou Sheng whispered, “It’s not that shameful. Yinghua High doesn’t enforce broadcast calisthenics. The seniors run on the back playground, and the freshmen and sophomores mostly go to the cafeteria to buy food. There aren’t many people on the front playground.”

He paused and added, “Ideally, Hu Xiujie has started believing in spiritual education these past two years. The self-criticism under the red flag isn’t to shame you, but to make you reflect properly. Growing up in such a good motherland, receiving so much care, why do you still not think of making progress?”

Xie Lan was a bit confused. “Why?”

Dou Sheng stopped his pen and stared at him fixedly. Xie Lan stared blankly for a while before realizing, “Oh, because I was led astray by you.”

Dou Sheng smiled proudly. After laughing a bit, he said, “This was my miscalculation. I should have thought of it. Since there was a surprise inspection of the dorms recently, she would definitely shift her battleground. We should have gone straight back after editing the film.”

Saying all this now was useless.

Xie Lan sighed. “I don’t blame you. It was all to help me edit the video.”

---

Writing two self-criticisms for the same event without making them identical was estimated to be quite difficult. Dou Sheng wrote his copy for a long time. It wasn’t until the end of the second period, when the sound of Hu Xiujie’s high heels rang out from the other end of the corridor, that Dou Sheng hurriedly tore off those two sheets of paper, folded them, and stuffed them into Xie Lan’s hand.

“Don’t unfold it. Our handwriting is too different; she’ll notice,” Dou Sheng whispered a reminder.

Hearing this, Xie Lan immediately folded back the paper he had just opened a crack. He whispered with emotion, “You really are experienced.”

Hu Xiujie arrived in front of them with a cold face. “Finished writing?”

Dou Sheng lowered his head. “Finished. We are ready to face our mistakes on the flag podium.”

“Today is the monthly exam for Grade 10, so there aren’t many people during the break. Count yourselves lucky.” Hu Xiujie sneered and knocked on the front door of the classroom, shouting inside, “Everyone in my class, come out. Listen to the self-criticisms of these two top students you worship. Since the class division, I see you are all becoming more and more outrageous! Everyone come reflect properly with me!”

Xie Lan couldn’t help asking, “Teacher, if it’s only our class, let’s not go outside.”

“Am I the teacher or are you the teacher?” Hu Xiujie glared at him. “Xie Lan! I’ve been too gentle with you!”

Xie Lan: “…”

Between him and Hu Xiujie, one of them definitely had a misunderstanding of the word “gentle.”

The whole class dawdled to the front playground to assemble. There were scattered students from other classes passing by, looking at Dou Sheng and Xie Lan standing on the stage, whispering to each other.

Dou Sheng whispered to Xie Lan, “Remember our agreement from before?”

Xie Lan paused. “What agreement?”

“No talking!” Hu Xiujie shouted angrily. “Xie Lan first!”

Xie Lan’s scalp went numb. He sighed, forced himself to shuffle two steps toward the flag, and unfolded the speech Dou Sheng had prepared for him.

Then, he froze in a subtle way.

The paper was densely covered in words, some even marked with Pinyin. The first sentence—“Yu da guo yi, gai jiang xian yu suo shi yi wu ke ye.” (I have committed a great fault, allowing trivial leisure matters to delay my studies.)

Classical Chinese (Wenyanwen)?

He turned back in disbelief to glare at Dou Sheng, asking with his eyes: Are you crazy?

Dou Sheng seemed not to receive the signal, his gaze chasing aimlessly through the air.

Xie Lan: “…”

Hu Xiujie urged, “Hurry up. Letting you down early is saving you face. Wait until the seniors finish their run and pass by, see how you feel then!”

Xie Lan let out a long sigh and had no choice but to bite the bullet and read aloud. “I have committed a great fault, allowing trivial leisure matters to delay my studies. But everything happens for a reason, today I repent here—”

The crowd below went into an uproar. Che Ziming’s pupils quaked. “Xie Lan! Have you been possessed by the God of Literature?”

Wang Gou couldn’t help clapping. “Could this be the legendary ‘secretly study Chinese to shock everyone’?”

Hu Xiujie frowned and slapped the lectern. “Quiet! Xie Lan, what is the situation?”

Xie Lan sighed. “Just… recently I’ve been getting tutoring in ancient texts. Just using this opportunity to practice.”

Che Ziming whispered, “I’d have to be crazy to believe you.”

Dai You: “…I am willing to hear the details.”

Hu Xiujie’s expression changed unpredictably, a bit like the intangible cultural heritage Xie Lan had heard of before—Sichuan Face Changing.

After changing who knows how many times, she spoke stiffly, “Then continue.”

Xie Lan sighed lightly.

The sun shines, the sky is bright, the spring heart stirs.

Declining the sounds of ritual and music, for the friendship of resonance, I wished to praise it.

Waves and billows (Lan) about to rise, carefully compiling, just so it may be heard by ears.

Though the wish was small, carrying a friend to work together, abandoning proper business.

Winning praise from friends, cooperation was excellent, swiftly completing the greater half.

However, disaster arose from the friend; the tool was dull, destroyed halfway, time was tight.

Angered by the friend’s lack of strife, I raged at him; one must mend the fold after the sheep is lost.

Until midnight we two could not sleep; though regretful, it was too late.

My studies only now show improvement; this great fault must be engraved in memory.

…

Xie Lan was numb from reading. He felt he had become Dou Sheng’s reading machine; his soul was dead, leaving only a cold shell.

He mechanically read to the end of this page and lifted his eyes from the paper to glance around—

A scene of desolation. The students looked up foolishly, eyes glazed over, having lost the dignified quality of owls.

Even Hu Xiujie on the side had put on a mask of confusion.

There was one more page behind it. Xie Lan turned the page and continued reading without any fluctuation—

“In summary, returning to human language, I have deeply realized my mistake. Just after returning to the motherland, I have violated school discipline multiple times. I am truly sorry to the motherland, sorry to the teacher, sorry to the classmates. Regarding this, I only want to say…”

His voice stopped abruptly. He looked at the last four words, his brain going blank.

Human mouths might have inertia, especially after being held hostage to read a cross-species language for so long—

Xie Lan maintained his dazed state and read hesitantly:

“As expected… of… me?” (Bu kui shi wo?)

The wind blew past Hu Xiujie’s shocked face.

It blew past the owls of Class 4, and past the crowd that had gathered upon hearing the news nearby.

It made one want to die.

__

Author’s Note:

The egg nest was very harmonious yesterday, but today the atmosphere is suddenly a bit tense.

The Keyboard Typer followed behind Lazy Egg, noticing it would suddenly turn its head every few steps, looking around suspiciously.

Keyboard Typer: What’s wrong?

Lazy Egg stared at her alertly for a while: Help me look, are there any words stuck to the back of my eggshell?

No. The Keyboard Typer asked: When were there words stuck to it?

Lazy Egg let out a long sigh: Bean Egg said he wanted to play some ‘Egg Prank Competition’ with me, sticking words on my back every day.

The Keyboard Typer was a bit curious: What did he stick?

Yesterday he stuck “Cute”! Lazy Egg listed angrily: This morning he also stuck “Dou & Lan One Nest”, “Friend of Bean Egg”, “Bean Egg Property”…

The Keyboard Typer interrupted: Those are all very friendly stickers.

You don’t understand. Lazy Egg huffed: The glue is sticky on the eggshell!