Six subjects in one day; by the time it was over, everyone was wrecked.

The boxed lunch at the exam venue at noon was spicy chicken. Xie Lan didn’t eat spicy food, so he had just shoveled a few mouthfuls of plain rice to keep going until the end of the exams. By the time he walked out of the venue, he was so hungry his stomach hurt.

A light rain was drifting outside. The dim sky shrouded the buildings of Yingzhong High, and the streetlamps on campus were lit like scattered stars. Xie Lan walked slowly out of the building. From a distance, he saw Dou Sheng waiting by a pillar near the entrance. As usual, he was wearing a white shirt and light gray trousers, leaning lazily against the pillar. His silhouette looked exceptionally long and slender against the backdrop of the night and the streetlights, standing out among the crowd of students.

Dou Sheng rested a hand on an umbrella and held a McDonald’s paper bag in the other. Not far away, Che Ziming and the others were horsing around while eating burgers.

As Xie Lan approached, Dou Sheng looked up as if they shared a telepathic connection, a smile spreading in his eyes.

“Finally out. Are you hungry?”

The familiar low voice instantly pulled Xie Lan out of his post-exam exhaustion. He let out a long breath. “Starving. The lunch was terrible.”

Dou Sheng smiled and reached into the paper bag. “I knew it. Here, beef. I also bought you two taro pies.”

“Thanks.”

Xie Lan tore open the burger wrapper somewhat urgently and took a big bite. McDonald’s burgers could only be considered mediocre, but he was starving. The bun, beef, and cheese melded on his taste buds, and in that moment, it was deliciously moving.

Dou Sheng opened the umbrella, waited for Xie Lan to step under it, and walked side-by-side with him into the curtain of rain.

Che Ziming, his cheeks stuffed full, huddled under Wang Gou’s umbrella and said, “I would like to call this meal the ‘Resurrection Meal.’ Thanks to Dou-zi for handing in his English paper early to order takeout for everyone.”

Wang Gou held the umbrella in one hand and a burger in the other. He had eaten even the fried batter crumbs that fell into the wrapper clean.

“Smells so good,” he couldn’t help but sigh with emotion. “Life in the city is great. Hey Dou-zi, how much was this?”

Dou Sheng answered casually, “Didn’t check.”

Yu Fei took a bite of his burger and said, “Don’t be polite with him. He’s a big UP uploader; he’s got money.”

Wang Gou sighed. “Making your own money while still a student, that’s so nice. I’d thank the heavens if I could just figure out how to take tests properly.”

Hearing this, Dai You put down his iced coffee. “How was your English?”

“It was okay. The questions weren’t too hard this time; I’ll definitely pass.”

Talking about the exam, the conversation naturally shifted to the test questions.

Xie Lan didn’t like checking answers, so he continued to focus on eating the burger in his hand. The rainy night was a bit cold, but a warmth began to rise in his food-filled stomach, spreading through his whole body. After finishing the burger, he crumpled the paper into a ball and looked around for a trash can, his gaze inadvertently colliding with Dou Sheng’s.

Dou Sheng calmly shifted his gaze away from Xie Lan’s profile. “How was English?”

Xie Lan nodded. “It was alright. Did you get my text? Biology was pretty good too; I estimate I’ll get over seventy.”

Dou Sheng smiled. “I got it. Hu Xiujie was patrolling then, so I didn’t have time to reply.”

Dai You asked from the side, “Dou-zi, what was up with you this exam? Why did I feel like your pacing was off for some subjects?”

Che Ziming was surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Hard to say.” Dai You frowned slightly. “I sat behind him. It felt like he only took Math seriously. English was so-so, but he did a messy job on Chinese and Comprehensive Science. It looked like he’d write a few strokes and then rest for a while.”

Xie Lan’s heart suddenly skipped a beat, and he instinctively turned to look at Dou Sheng.

Dou Sheng just smiled. “Have you ever not been first in the grade since starting high school?”

“Asking what you already know.” Dai You pursed his lips. “Wasn’t I staring at the back of Chen Ge’s and your heads during the exams?”

Dou Sheng gave a calm, faint smile. “Then first place is yours this time. If you don’t get first, don’t blame me for looking down on you.”

The group fell silent. Dai You was confused for a moment before asking, “What’s the situation?”

“Nothing. Just had a bit of a stomachache during Chinese and Science, so I didn’t answer very seriously.” Dou Sheng’s tone was very light, casual as if commenting on the rain.

The group quieted down, but Xie Lan felt a faint premonition in his heart and turned to glance at Dou Sheng.

After a while, Dou Sheng suddenly chuckled and said, “Let’s make a bet.”

Xie Lan asked, “Bet on what?”

Dou Sheng thought for a moment. “Let’s bet on the difference in our total scores this time. I bet it won’t exceed fifteen points.”

Xie Lan paused in his tracks. Although he had a premonition, he was still shocked at this moment.

“What do you mean?” His brain was a little fuzzy. “You deliberately tanked Chinese and Science?”

Dou Sheng glanced at him and made a soft shh sound. “We said we’d definitely be in the same class.”

Xie Lan was still in shock. “But…”

Dou Sheng interrupted him with a faint smile. “When you told me about Biology, I had already finished the first three subjects. I was just making a backup plan, that’s all. It doesn’t matter; it’s just a mid-term exam.”

Xie Lan was speechless for a good while before he continued walking forward in the dim rain, his peripheral vision fixed on Dou Sheng’s hand holding the umbrella handle. After walking for a bit, he suddenly realized that the umbrella handle wasn’t vertical; it was tilted slightly, subtly, toward his side.

That strange, vague feeling in his heart surfaced again, impossible to suppress.

After a long time, Xie Lan lowered his eyes and asked, seemingly casually, “Why did we have to say we’d be in the same class?”

“Huh?” Dou Sheng stopped walking.

Xie Lan also stopped, turning back under the umbrella to meet those black eyes.

He didn’t know if it was an illusion, but a fleeting look of being at a loss flashed through those eyes. But soon, Dou Sheng returned to his usual nonchalant demeanor, looking away as he spoke. “Maybe I’m just used to being with you from morning till night, studying together, discussing videos together. Besides, if we’re separated, how do we record the ‘Hardcore High School Record’? Half of my Top 100 Uploader title is tied to you.”

Right. There’s also that ghostly Hardcore High School Record.

Hearing this, Xie Lan instantly relaxed and continued walking side-by-side with him. But after two steps, he felt a trace of untraceable disappointment rising from the bottom of his heart.

Maybe it was because it was raining, and dark. Just the weather.

Walking to the school gate, Xie Lan suddenly heard Dou Sheng say in a low voice, “It’s rained twice in a row now. It gets colder every time.”

When Dou Sheng said this, he turned his head to look at the tree-lined avenue of plane trees on campus. After a long time, he whispered, “I hope these trees are a bit tougher this year. They have to bloom.”

Xie Lan’s heart stirred, and he nodded along. “Yeah, they have to strive for it.”

---

School ended early on exam day, so it was just past eight when they got home. As soon as Xie Lan arrived, he received a text from Zhao Wenying, who was on a business trip, saying she had prepared a little surprise to celebrate him finishing mid-terms.

Xie Lan lowered his head to carefully compose a reply. Dou Sheng closed the umbrella and walked past him. “I need to make up a horror game livestream. You want to join?”

Xie Lan looked up. “Me? I rarely play games.”

Dou Sheng waved his hand. “Mainly, I want to stream using your account to pad your activity levels for the month.”

Xie Lan was stunned. “You can do that?”

“Why couldn’t we?” Dou Sheng laughed. “Your original update schedule was messed up by mid-terms. Disappearing for too long isn’t good.”

As he spoke, he shuffled into the kitchen in his slippers. A moment later, he came out carrying two cans of beer.

Xie Lan couldn’t help but remind him, “The platform doesn’t allow drinking on stream.”

Dou Sheng waved it off casually. “Pour it into a thermos cup. As long as the audience doesn’t know we’re drinking, it’s fine. You’re supposed to drink on a Friday after exams.”

Xie Lan watched his dashing retreating figure and couldn’t help but curl his lip.

It was hard to say if he wanted to indulge because it was post-exam Friday, or if he was drinking to embolden himself for the horror game.

Cowardly as a bean.

Teasing aside, Xie Lan logged in and posted a teaser.

Actually, it wasn’t entirely to pad runtime. Che Ziming had mentioned the game Paper Bride a couple of days ago, claiming the horror index was off the charts. He was afraid Dou Sheng would be scared to death playing alone.

Xie Lan washed his face, changed clothes, and came out. Dou Sheng had already started the stream. The viewer count was climbing steadily as he chatted with the bullet comments (danmu) and methodically set the atmosphere.

The rain outside had gotten heavier. He dragged a double-seater beanbag chair from the storage room and threw it on the floor, drew the curtains tight to let the white noise of the rain envelop the room, and turned off all the lights. The only light in the whole house came from the two computer screens. Both screens were currently open to Bilibili, providing ample light.

Xie Lan didn’t want to drink beer, so he grabbed a can of Coke for himself and pulled over a cushion—for Dou Sheng.

As soon as he entered the frame, he saw the bullet comments suddenly turn into a sea of pink.

– Evening, Lan-zai ww

– Hi Wife~

– Lan-zai is done with exams!

– How did it go?

Xie Lan sat in the beanbag chair and hummed a response. “Exam went okay. Why are you guys using pink comments?”

– Pink suits you better eh

– Seeing you makes us unable to resist…

– Seeing the two of you in the same frame makes us unable to resist…

– Cough, cough, people in front, watch yourselves.

Xie Lan subconsciously ignored these comments, cleared his throat, and popped the tab on his Coke.

Dou Sheng was unwrapping the game cartridge. “I’ll figure out the two-player mode. You chat with the danmu for a bit.”

“Okay.”

There were a lot more comments than before. Xie Lan guessed that because he produced so little content, the audience’s curiosity filter was heavy; every time he appeared, there were endless questions.

“Don’t really like pink, but suit yourselves.”

“Yeah, my Chinese has improved a lot recently. I don’t sound weird speaking, right?”

“Oh, some pronunciation is indeed still not quite accurate.”

“There will be a music video out before May Day. Hmm, that’s all I can tease.”

“Might go traveling. Want to go somewhere close to nature. Do you guys have suggestions?”

“Yeah, with Dou-zi.”

“No plans to return to the UK in the short term.”

“Yeah, I’ll be staying with him while I’m here.”

The beanbag chair beside him sank as Dou Sheng squeezed in, shoving a controller into Xie Lan’s hand.

“Two-player mode. I’ll play the groom, Li Lingfeng, and you play my secretary.” Dou Sheng’s voice was very serious. He cleared his throat and spoke to the camera, “Good evening, audience friends. Welcome to Peerless Handso… oh no, welcome to Demon Xie Lan’s livestream. Tonight, the two of us will take you through the game Paper Bride. Domestic horror plot puzzle game. Two-player mode takes about an hour and a half to clear.”

– Dou-zi is already nervous

– Serious = Nervous

– Hahaha old Dou fans smile without speaking

– I’m curious, can Lan-zai get the essence of Chinese horror?

Dou Sheng expressionlessly picked up his thermos cup and gulped down two mouthfuls.

The left screen switched to the dark game interface, and the light in the room instantly dimmed by half. Dou Sheng was entirely shrouded in shadow; Xie Lan could clearly see his Adam’s apple sliding gently in the dark.

“I’m starting,” Dou Sheng said.

Xie Lan hummed an affirmative.

The game plot started with the groom, Li Lingfeng, going to the countryside for a wedding. The two-player mode was a bit useless; Xie Lan, the secretary, was just a follower, tailing Dou Sheng into an antique Chinese courtyard.

judging by the lighting in the game scene, it should be night. The courtyard was dim. Wind blew through the bushes; the bushes moved but made no sound.

Directly ahead on the roof beam hung four large red lanterns. Candlelight seeped through the oiled paper, but the light was white. When the wind blew, the white candlelight swayed wildly, and the shadows of the two characters on the ground swayed silently left and right.

Danmu:

– Damn, this game is a bit underworld (creepy)

– Is it this scary right from the start?

– A wedding at night???

– Why do the bushes have no sound?

– Look at how those shadows are shaking, Daddy’s heart is going to crack.

Xie Lan was controlling his little figure to follow Dou Sheng when he felt Dou Sheng bump his arm.

Xie Lan asked casually, “What’s wrong?”

Dou Sheng whispered a reminder, “If you’re scared, you can shout. I’ll shout too. No need to hold it in.”

“Huh?” Xie Lan was stunned. “What is there to be scared of?”

Dou Sheng turned to look at him. “Look at those white candles.”

What about white candles?

Xie Lan paused. “I think white candles are quite romantic. Moonlight, a courtyard, white candles. Very romantic.”

Dou Sheng’s expression suddenly went blank.

“Romantic??”

“Yeah.” Xie Lan paused, looked at the wildly swaying shadows of the two people on the ground, and smiled. “It’s quite atmospheric. Reminds me of an extracurricular ancient poem I learned recently. Very romantic.”

The bullet comments immediately said:

– What poem?

– We’d like to hear the details

– Lan-zai is getting cultured? Learning poetry!

– Wuwu I want to hear Lan Lan recite a romantic love poem for me

The livestream chat was hyped, but Dou Sheng alone was sober.

He looked at Xie Lan numbly for a moment and whispered, “Can I beg you not to say it? I have a bad feeling.”

Xie Lan smiled, cleared his throat, and recited aloud: “Waiting for the moon under the western chamber, facing the wind, the door half open. Shadows of flowers move against the wall, I suspect the jade person has come.“

As soon as the words fell, a shadow that didn’t belong to either of their characters suddenly floated across the ground, winding its way into the main hall in front of them. Then, the tightly closed door opened automatically, and an old, prolonged creaaak came from the speakers.

The immersion was intense.

– ????

– WTF what kind of underworld poem is this?

– Xie Lan, are you part of the game dev team?

– I’m numb…

Xie Lan couldn’t help but chuckle. “This game is actually quite consistent with poetic imagery.”

After he said this, there was no movement beside him for a long time. He turned his head and saw that Dou Sheng’s numb face was suspected to be a shade paler than before, staring straight at him, pupils trembling slightly.

Xie Lan raised an eyebrow. “Scared already?”

“No.” Dou Sheng’s voice sounded overly calm. He picked up the thermos cup and took two more gulps. “Let’s go. Taking you into the house.”

Pushing open the antique door, the two stepped into the main hall.

Once inside, the scene was even dimmer than outside. Under the plaque hung four large red lanterns on each side; the red light was very atmospheric in the gloom.

An old man and an old woman sat on the left and right of a wooden table. On the table lay scissors, a steelyard, and a jade ruyi scepter. Behind them was a giant red “Double Happiness” character. A male emcee wearing a small round cap stood to the side.

The sense of ancient Chinese culture came rushing at his face. Xie Lan suddenly got interested, sat up straighter on the beanbag, and nudged Dou Sheng with his elbow.

Dou Sheng’s voice was hollow. “Want to recite poetry again?”

Xie Lan asked, “Where is your bride?”

Dou Sheng: “…”

Dou Sheng slowly turned his head, his gaze unfocused.

“Read the prompt. Paper Bride, Paper Bride, the bride is related to ghosts. How could she appear so soon?”

Xie Lan nodded and continued watching the screen. “Oh.”

In his peripheral vision, Dou Sheng looked at him with a breakdown in his eyes for another two seconds before slowly turning back. Xie Lan tried hard to pretend to be serious and nervous, but in fact, he was secretly glancing at the danmu.

– Dou’s gall bladder has burst (scared witless)

– Look at how scared he is

– Mommy, this is only the beginning

– Dying of laughter, Second Cat (Xie Lan) is definitely a horror game boss

– Xie Lan is here to add difficulty to the game

Xie Lan dragged the joystick, making his little figure spin two circles around Dou Sheng. “What do we do now?”

Dou Sheng’s voice was very low. “There will probably be a sequence.”

Just as he finished speaking, the male emcee suddenly lunged forward with a face full of smiles.

Before Xie Lan could react, he felt the arm next to him shudder violently. But Dou Sheng’s expression remained relatively calm, and he quietly moved his arm away.

Suddenly, a 360-degree surround sound duck-voice rang out from the speakers—

“The auspicious time has arrived. Bride and Groom, please perform the bowing ceremony. First bow to Heaven and Earth—”

Xie Lan was confused, blindly spinning his character with the joystick. “What does that mean? Why don’t I understand?”

Beside him, the tense Dou Sheng seemed to suddenly relax a bit, speaking steadily, “Stand with me. Face the old man and woman and press Y.”

Baffled, Xie Lan did as told. On screen, his and Dou Sheng’s characters knelt facing forward together and knocked their heads on the ground.

Xie Lan was stunned.

– “Where is your bride?” “It’s you.”

– WTF hahahaha you can play two-player mode like this?

– I f*ing took a screenshot!

– Is this a horror game or a dating sim?

– Xie Lan, wake up for Mommy!

Xie Lan suddenly realized, “Didn’t you say the bride is a ghost? You’re using me as the bride?”

Dou Sheng was much more relaxed than before, saying calmly, “It’s two-player mode. I’m just helping you find a sense of existence.”

Just as Xie Lan was about to retort, the male emcee shook again and chanted loudly, “Second bow to the High Hall (parents)—”

Dou Sheng said, “Repeat what we just did.”

Totally confused, Xie Lan had to repeat it. But this time, the game suddenly switched from God-view to Dou Sheng’s character’s first-person perspective. “He” knelt and kowtowed, the camera slowly lifting from the uneven cement floor tiles. The vision was blurry, but the speakers suddenly emitted three suppressed staccato sounds.

Bang, bang, bang—

The screen distorted and flickered violently. When it cleared again, the red lanterns had suddenly turned into white lanterns. The whole room was shrouded in ghastly white light. The emcee had turned into a paper doll with a stiff smile, holding a paper horse. The two elders had vanished; on the two chairs sat the black-and-white funeral portraits of the two elders.

Before Xie Lan could react, he saw the paper emcee flash in front of the camera with a smile. The fake grin, stretching to the roots of his ears, was shoved right into the giant computer screen. A raspy, breathy voice came from the speakers—”Husband and wife bow to each other—”

Xie Lan was just about to ask what was wrong with this guy when he heard a scream from beside him. In the surrounding gloom, a controller flew past his eyes, and then Dou Sheng clawed frantically at him.

Dou Sheng: “Ahhhhh—!!”

Xie Lan: “What are you doing?! Are you sick?!”

In the pitch darkness and chaos, Dou Sheng flailed and hugged him, rubbing against him for dear life. The beanbag chair wasn’t big to begin with; he was almost squeezed onto the floor. He intended to get up in anger, but he failed to stand, falling back into the seat. His butt crashed onto Dou Sheng’s hip area, and his thigh was squeezed on top of Dou Sheng’s leg. Xie Lan’s first reaction was that it was quite hard—Dou Sheng was lean, after all, and the muscles and bones in his leg had a distinct presence.

But his second reaction was that it felt soft. With half his butt pressing on Dou Sheng’s waist, he seemed to be able to perceive Dou Sheng’s perception at that moment.

Numbness. An electric numbness crawled from his tailbone all the way to the top of his head, then spread to his limbs and bones.

Xie Lan froze for two seconds before realizing he was practically sitting on Dou Sheng. The roots of his ears burned as if filled with blood. Just as he was at a loss, the two arms hugging him stiffened subtly. Then, as if suddenly hit by a second wave of shock, Dou Sheng leaped up.

Xie Lan was caught off guard: “?”

He only felt the person beneath him yank away. The space beneath the left half of his body became empty, and he fell without recourse, collapsing into the deep pit of the beanbag with a thump.

“……”

On the livestream screen, Xie Lan had fallen completely into the beanbag, limbs and head sticking out somewhat comically, looking blankly at the lens.

The bullet comments exploded.

– What the f** are you guys doing*

– Grandpa is dying of laughter

– I’m laughing so hard my face is red with shame

– Dou-zi was scared to death by the ghost, Xie Lan was scared to death by Dou-zi

– The person in front is wrong. Dou-zi was crushed to death by Xie Lan, Xie Lan was fell to death by Dou-zi

– No, they both died of shame in the end

Xie Lan stayed dazed in the pit for several seconds. Standing in the darkness, almost out of frame, Dou Sheng also looked at him, somewhat bewildered.

The beanbag was loose and soft, conforming to every inch of the body from all directions, draining all the strength from a person. After struggling a couple of times, Xie Lan gritted his teeth in despair and said, “Pull me up?”

“Oh, okay,” Dou Sheng said immediately, reaching out to grab Xie Lan’s hand.

The instant their skin touched, Xie Lan suddenly felt that Dou Sheng’s hand was very hot, like the heat of suddenly returning indoors after running in the snow for forty minutes. He initially grabbed Xie Lan’s hand, but the moment his fingers touched the palm, he switched to grabbing Xie Lan’s wrist, forcefully hauling him up.

The air conditioning wasn’t on in the room, and the heavy rainy night was gradually building up a stifling humidity.

The screen was covered by notifications of various gifts and donations. Xie Lan stood in front of the camera to stabilize himself for a moment, still feeling his face and ears burning.

The surrounding light was dim, and his mind was a bit blank, but fortunately, his voice sounded the same as usual.

Xie Lan said, “I’m going to the bathroom. Can you push the sequence forward in single-player mode?”

Dou Sheng let out a breath and bent down to pick up the controller. “I can. I’ll just set you to follow me.”

“Mn.”

Xie Lan glanced at the bullet comments again, realizing he had temporarily lost the ability to read Chinese characters, so he gave up and casually grabbed the Coke before entering the bathroom in Dou Sheng’s room.

The bathroom door was frosted glass. Xie Lan intended to turn on the light, but hesitated, fearing the light would ruin the atmosphere outside, so he didn’t.

Dou Sheng’s voice sounded from outside. It sounded calm, no different from usual.

“You can turn on the light, it won’t interfere.”

Xie Lan subconsciously said, “It’s fine, I’m just washing my hands. My palms are sweaty.”

Dou Sheng gave an “Oh” and said, “Then hurry up. I’ll stall a bit at this part and wait for you.”

“Okay.”

The bathroom was pitch black. Xie Lan fished his phone out of his pocket, thought for a moment, logged into Bilibili with his alt account, muted the volume, and clicked into his own livestream from the homepage.

On the screen was the game footage. Dou Sheng’s image was in the bottom right corner, a tiny screen.

He had restored the beanbag chair to its normal shape and was sitting alone on the left side, leaving a spot for Xie Lan. He naturally continued to push the game forward. His hands gripped the controller tightly, staring unblinkingly at the screen, extremely focused.

But, he didn’t know if it was his illusion, but Xie Lan felt Dou Sheng was too focused on the game, a state different from just now.

Xie Lan watched for a while longer. In the tiny picture-in-picture, Dou Sheng’s features were in the dark—half in shadow, half in light. The boundary between light and dark shifted gently across his face with the changes in the game screen. Those black eyes were as quiet and deep as usual, lips lightly pursed; his focused expression looked somewhat gentle in the gloom.

In a trance, it reminded him of the figure holding the umbrella in the rainy night on campus. Calm, gentle, speeding up and slowing down to accommodate and wait for the person beside him.

Xie Lan took a deep breath, closed the livestream, and used the dim light of the phone to look at his blurry reflection in the mirror. Then he turned on the faucet and ran cool water over his wrists.

It took a long time for the branded feeling in his palm to slowly fade in the cold water.

Xie Lan’s mind was still blank. He absently picked up the Coke and took two sips. When he put the Coke back, the sound of the cup bottom hitting the ceramic tiles wasn’t the crisp sound he imagined, but rather dull.

Xie Lan suddenly froze, belatedly realizing the taste in his mouth was wrong. It wasn’t the sweet taste of Coke, but the slightly astringent, bitter taste of beer.

He froze, subconsciously touching the “can.”

—That was Dou Sheng’s thermos cup.

His body, which had just calmed down, began to tingle again. His mouth was dry. Everything around Xie Lan seemed to become very quiet; the only things restless were the ringing in his ears and his increasingly intense heartbeat.

—Thump, thump, thump, thump. His heart beat wildly. No matter how he tried to suppress or cover it, it wouldn’t calm down. It didn’t listen to him, didn’t accept his control, trembling rapidly and panic-stricken within his chest cavity.

He stared blankly down and grabbed that thermos cup again.

He must be broken somewhere. Maybe it was a delayed psychological puberty caused by Xiao Langjing’s illness, or maybe it was “acclimatization issues” after returning to the country.

Towards Dou Sheng—his mother’s childhood friend’s son, his deskmate, roommate, fellow UP uploader friend, or perhaps, the person he relied on most in this familiar yet strange country…

He had generated some impulses that could not be spoken.

---

Author’s Note:

The keyboard typist passed by the yard and found Lazy Egg staring blankly at the moon.

“What’s wrong?” The typist asked in passing. “Not sleeping again? The customers are complaining that you guys stay up too late.”

Lazy Egg looked at her hollowly for a while before saying: “Typist, something is wrong with me.”

The typist paused: “Huh? How so?”

“Something is wrong with me. You should sell me.”

Lazy Egg covered his eggshell in despair: “I’ve gone bad (spoiled/changed).”