Dou Sheng remained silent for the entire evening. When the school dismissal bell rang, Xie Lan glanced over and saw him flip open his planning notebook. With a stroke forceful enough to nearly pierce the back of the page, he crossed out the entry titled [Cheesy Pickup Line Material].

Che Ziming turned around and tapped on Xie Lan’s desk. “What’s so funny? Have you finished the camp entrance practice exam Old Ma handed out?”

Hearing this, Dou Sheng looked up as well. Xie Lan immediately wiped the smile from his face and handed him the math paper that was tucked under his Chinese textbook.

Che Ziming nearly wept. “You really finished it. Fish and I haven’t even finished the first page.”

Dai You walked over from the front row, carrying his schoolbag. “You guys head back to the dorms first, don’t wait for me. I’m going to buy a reference book for the competition.”

Wang Gou quickly added, “Take me with you. This exam paper has me feeling impotent.”

On the way back to the dorms, the group of four had dwindled to two. Dou Sheng fiddled with his GoPro the whole way. The dim yellow streetlights stretched their shadows long. Xie Lan walked and watched those two slender shadows—even though there was a bit of distance between him and Dou Sheng, the two shadows occasionally touched, sometimes even breaking their boundaries to overlap.

“Here, let’s record something,” Dou Sheng suddenly raised his hand, familiarly resting it on Xie Lan’s shoulder.

Xie Lan looked up. On the screen was his slightly bewildered face. Dou Sheng was leaning in very close, speaking lazily: “Failure material check-in. Big Cat, Second Cat. Cheesy pickup lines. Abandoned.”

Xie Lan continued walking forward. In his peripheral vision, his and Dou Sheng’s figures on the tiny screen bobbed gently with their steps, perfectly synchronized.

Dou Sheng continued chatting to the camera.

“Originally, I was going to do a challenge with different levels of cheesy pickup lines. The main test subject was Xie Lan, and I was the initiator.”

“But just as things got a little advanced, I felt like I couldn’t handle it myself, so forget it.”

“I’m getting older, my face is getting thinner (I’m easily embarrassed), nothing I can do…”

Xie Lan glanced at him sideways. “You record a segment for scrapped topics too?”

Dou Sheng gave a confirmation noise. “There’s a batch of fans who just love watching summaries of scrapped drafts.”

As he spoke, he pressed down on Xie Lan’s shoulder with his arm, moving the lens closer. “Xie Lan, little friend, say something to everyone. Such a show-stopping topic died right at the start; do you have any thoughts on this?”

Xie Lan hesitated slightly, looking into Dou Sheng’s eyes through the lens, and said sincerely, “I really think the one about ‘I am nine and you are three’ was okay.”

“…”

Dou Sheng’s smile vanished in a second. He spoke rapidly to the camera: “Okay, this topic ends here. May there be no more nines and threes in this world…”

Xie Lan couldn’t help but curl the corners of his mouth, smiling softly under the streetlights in a way he didn’t even notice himself.

Dou Sheng chattered to the camera the whole way, complaining in a loose, lazy tone that tonight’s dinner at the small table wasn’t good, the sweet and sour ribs were too sweet, and only Xie Lan would like them. Then he mentioned that he and Xie Lan were recently obsessed with the milk tea at the school gate, and that on Saturday they were going to the provincial math intensive training camp. Xie Lan would miss his Chinese class, and Dou Sheng’s own free afternoon would also be squeezed out—he offered a moment of silence for his holiday in advance.

It was a mix of random things, probably saving up material for a vlog. Xie Lan walked quietly beside him, and for some reason, suddenly remembered the bullet comments from a previous video—fans said that Dou Sheng was smiling in every recent video.

It was true. Dou Sheng looked very good when he smiled; that clear, light amusement seemed to penetrate from his eyes straight to the bottom of his heart, open and frank.

**

Before the provincial training camp, the difficulty of the daily math homework went up another level. Even Xie Lan had to carve out two hours to bury his head in the work. The promised study livestream was delayed again and again, accidentally pushed all the way to Friday night.

Zhao Wenying wasn’t home. Xie Lan spread a tablecloth over the spacious dining table, set up his phone, laid out the math paper, and carried Wutong over, placing him on the liquor cabinet behind him.

Wutong was very cooperative; tucking his little paws in, he lay down directly and yawned.

Just as Xie Lan finished setting everything up and was about to start the stream, there was a clatter on the stairs. Dou Sheng came down, holding a phone stand in one hand and a bag of food in the other.

“What are you doing?” Xie Lan was confused.

Dou Sheng waved his phone. “Aren’t you streaming? Me, VIP viewing seat.”

“?”

Xie Lan’s command of Chinese wasn’t yet enough to fully understand the nuances of “VIP seat” (雅座), but he felt that Dou Sheng’s behavior—sitting right next to the streamer, eating and drinking, watching a live broadcast from five centimeters away—was very unrefined.

Suffocating slightly, he scooted to the side. “No talking.”

Dou Sheng beamed. “Of course I won’t talk. I’ll put the food on a plate first; there won’t even be the sound of wrappers later. You focus on studying.”

Xie Lan scoffed, “You’d better.”

This livestream had been announced in advance, so the viewer count shot up as soon as the camera turned on. Xie Lan picked up his pen and started writing immediately. The camera angle was from above, focused on his hands and the clean test paper.

He had already done this paper once. He had asked Old Ma for a fresh copy, planning to redo it using a different problem-solving approach.

The room was very quiet. Wutong was snoring softly behind him, and Xie Lan’s hand calculated rapidly on the scratch paper.

– Lan Zai (Cub Lan), good evening!

– Hahaha, it’s actually math.

– The fear of being dominated by Lan Zai’s Chinese is still fresh lol

– Domestic math is hard, I’m so worried for Lan Zai.

– Hiss, I’m a high school senior, why can’t I understand these questions…

– Yeah… starting to feel something is wrong.

Xie Lan glanced at the screen and answered casually, “Tomorrow Dou Sheng and I are going to a competition training camp. This is a warm-up paper assigned by the teacher.”

– Math competition?!!

– 0.0

– Didn’t he come back from abroad? He’s participating in a math competition?

“Mn.” Xie Lan basically confirmed his thought process, moving some key proofs onto the paper. While transcribing quickly, he answered, “Domestic math is indeed harder than the same level in the UK. It’s good.”

“Pfft.” A light chuckle came from beside him.

Dou Sheng had a cream puff stuck in his throat and was flusteredly looking for water.

– Was that a sound?

– As a competition contestant, I am speechless.

– The big boss only deduced this question for two minutes…

– Skipping the process, I’ll just start trembling directly.

– I’m dizzy, is Lan Zai very good at math?

– What does he usually score in math?

Xie Lan was the same everywhere; he generally got full marks in math. But considering there was a guy next to him making weird noises from time to time, he only said euphemistically, “I’ve only taken two exams since coming back. The grades were okay.”

As soon as the words fell, the person who had just guzzled water to find his voice said dissatisfiedly, “Tell it straight. My family’s Second Cat got full marks on the placement exam, and ranked first in the city-wide unified exam for top math students. He pulled a gap of one high-difficulty proof question ahead of second place—which is me, by the way.”

Xie Lan: “…”

Comments: “!!!”

Xie Lan’s composure cracked. He threw down his pen. “You said you wouldn’t make a sound! Keep lying and you’ll get fat and die!”

Dou Sheng smiled and pinched a cream puff, holding it to Xie Lan’s mouth. “That’s called ‘eating one’s words makes one fat’ (breaking a promise). You need to memorize your idioms properly.”

The comments scrolled by frantically.

– Holy crap, Second Cat is thaaaat awesome?

– The Bean Clan is defeated.

– Laughing happily after being crushed, as expected of Dou.

– Dou is secretly feeding him! I saw the hand holding the puff flash by!

– Big Cat and Second Cat are ‘tie tie’ (snuggling/bonding) today too.

Xie Lan was speechless. He picked up his pen and looked at Dou Sheng expressionlessly.

After being stared at for a few seconds, Dou Sheng waved his hand helplessly. “Okay, okay, okay, I won’t make a sound. Everyone! This is Student Xie Lan’s quiet self-study room. I’m just here having a late-night snack aside. You guys be humble in the comments and study hard.”

– If I could understand what he’s writing, would I be chatting with you?

– The comments are too loud, I’m seriously watching the boss solve problems.

– Second Cat is really amazing.

– I like Second Cat so much.

Xie Lan was dazzled by the screen full of comments. Whenever those fancy characters scrolled too fast, they stripped him of his Chinese reading ability. He zoned out for a moment, then decided not to reply to any of them, lowering his head to continue the problems.

Dou Sheng didn’t speak anymore either. He turned on his own phone on silent to read the comments. In Xie Lan’s peripheral vision, every time Dou Sheng tilted his head back, he swallowed a cream puff. His Adam’s apple slid cheerfully up and down his smooth neck. Ordinary cream puffs seemed to suddenly become delicious when eaten by him.

Xie Lan finished a proof question. In the interval where he lifted his wrist to let out a breath, an egg tart slowly rubbed its way in from the edge of his peripheral vision, gradually breaking into the frame and stopping by his hand.

– Big Cat is feeding him again.

– Seizing every opportunity to feed!

– Although it’s a bit KY, I think it’s so sweet…

– Same, KY but I still want to say it’s sweet…

Xie Lan put down the hand that was reaching for the tart. “What is KY?”

Dou Sheng glanced at the comments and said calmly, “KY. Kui Yang (Ulcer). It means the inside of the mouth is rotting. They are saying that although mouth ulcers are painful, they still think the egg tart is sweet.”

Xie Lan: “Oh.”

– ???

– Inappropriate, inappropriate, inappropriate.

– Inappropriate!!!

Xie Lan glanced at the comments, gave an affirmative noise, switched to a new sheet of scratch paper, and continued to the next question. “Indeed inappropriate. Mouth… that thing, I forgot how to pronounce it again, anyway, if your mouth is rotting, eat less.”

Tons of question marks scrolled past in the comments. Xie Lan was still confused when he heard a thump next to him.

Dou Sheng covered his mouth and rolled off the stool. Tears of laughter wet his thick eyelashes, glistening under the bright lights of the dining room.

Xie Lan started to feel something was wrong. “What exactly does KY mean?”

Dou Sheng let go of his hand, coughed violently for a while, and sat on the floor saying, “Inappropriate (reading the atmosphere)…”

What exactly is inappropriate?!

Xie Lan got angry. “Say it or don’t.”

The so-called math self-study room was imagined to be a quiet and peaceful live stream with a few comments discussing academics drifting by occasionally. In reality, it was Xie Lan devotedly redoing eight major problems with different methods, while the comments laughed maniacally until he went offline.

Turning off his phone, Xie Lan stared into space, mentally exhausted.

The stream stats were actually quite good. He seemed to have a magical constitution where his livestream popularity always exceeded his follower count.

It was just a bit tiring for the heart.

“The advertising fee from that musical instrument training institute arrived.” Dou Sheng sat on the arm of the sofa, swinging his legs leisurely. “After tax, I split the money for everyone. I’ll transfer the charity portion directly. Donor name will be Big Cat & Second Cat, okay?”

Xie Lan gave a hum of agreement.

He zoned out for a moment, then suddenly remembered, “How much did Chen Ge get in the end?”

“Twenty-eight thousand.”

Twenty-eight thousand was enough for an average family to live on for half a year. At least it would prevent Chen Ge from being reluctant to even go to the cafeteria, eating packet instant noodles soaked in hot water in the small canteen every meal, getting so thin he looked skeletal.

Xie Lan sighed. “Do you want to convince him while you’re at it? Didn’t Old Hu say…”

“No need.” Dou Sheng refused very crisply. “At this stage, he is destined to suffer through it himself. Outsiders can’t open their mouths. Even if we were to speak, we’d have to find an opportunity where he could actually listen, otherwise it’s just KY.”

KY. KY again.

Can humans just speak properly?

Xie Lan slumped directly, stood up expressionlessly, and said, “I’m going to sleep.”

Tomorrow was the first training session of the provincial camp. Guo Ruize from the Attached Middle School had bombarded him with messages all afternoon, saying that the students from the Attached High had formed a “Avengers Alliance” to launch a general attack on the arrogant big shot, telling Xie Lan to wait and see.

Xie Lan looked up the meaning of “arrogant” (狂狷 – wild and impetuous) with a cold face, and replied with a calm “Oh” in his heart.

After showering, he lay in bed aimlessly scrolling through Bilibili. There were quite a few private messages explaining the meaning of KY. He clicked on one at random.

[KY] Describes someone saying things that are inappropriate for the timing/atmosphere. Derived from the Japanese “Kuuki ga Yomenai” (Cannot read the air).

Xie Lan froze.

So “inappropriate” was its literal meaning.

Lying in bed, his toes curled up, and the roots of his ears burned.

But what did that sentence mean then? “Although KY, I think it’s so sweet.”

Sweet?

Xie Lan stared blankly for a few seconds. He seemed to suddenly understand something. Just as he was in a daze, his finger poked open a chat box containing an internal site video recommendation.

<Big Cat and Second Cat’s Tie (Sweet) Tie (Sweet) Daily>

@DouYanDouYu (Bean Talk): Lan Zai, look at this video for you! It’s my first time making a meme-style video, sorry if it’s bad!

Xie Lan clicked it without really thinking.

The video started in silence. The screen showed a freeze-frame of Xie Lan handwriting the idiom scolding Night God during the last live stream. The real footage faded into a hand-drawn style. Over the words “Damn Bitch,” a line of crooked text appeared stroke by stroke: Second Cat protects Big Cat forever!

Then, cheerful Japanese background music instantly rang out. Several GIFs of him and Dou Sheng at the lawn concert appeared on the screen, also converted into hand-drawn style, flashing back and forth to the rhythm of the music.

Xie Lan’s hand trembled, and he nearly threw the phone.

He immediately mashed the volume down button until the phone was as quiet as a chicken, leaving only the screen still flashing beat by beat.

The video used only three frames. Without sound, there was nothing to watch. But like a ghost was guiding him, Xie Lan didn’t close it. Instead, he looked up and glanced at the tightly closed bedroom door.

Not until eighty-plus seconds later, when the video ended, did he let out a long breath and hurriedly exit.

“Xie Lan.” Dou Sheng’s voice suddenly sounded from outside the door. Before the voice even faded, the door handle was pressed down.

Xie Lan’s heart skipped a beat. He immediately stuffed the phone under his pillow and quickly asked Dou Sheng, who was pushing the door open, “What’s wrong?”

Dou Sheng’s expression was very serious, his brow furrowed tightly, harboring a trace of easily detectable anxiety.

“What’s wrong?” Xie Lan asked again.

Dou Sheng held his phone. “I feel something isn’t right. I have to go find Chen Ge. You… don’t follow. I’m just telling you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was sending money to Chen Ge just now. He sent the bank card number, but when I asked for the cardholder’s name, he stopped replying. I called him, and the call connected then hung up. It was a bit… noisy on that end.” Dou Sheng hesitated. “It sounded like someone was smashing his door.”

Smashing the door?

Xie Lan realized what was happening and stood up without a second word. “I’m going with you.”

Only after asking did he learn that Chen Ge lived in the residential complex at the exit of Yangchang Alley, the same place they had encountered the hooligans right after school started.

On the way, Dou Sheng made a few more calls, all rejected by Chen Ge. He urgently contacted the others in the group chat. Everyone was rushing toward Chen Ge’s house from all directions. Based on distance, they should all arrive earlier than them.

Dou Sheng said, “Be careful later. The people pestering Chen Ge are different from school punks. Assess the situation. If it really doesn’t work, call the police. The Chinese police number is 110.”

Xie Lan nodded once. “I know.”

On the way, Dou Sheng roughly explained the situation. Chen Ge’s mother had married in from out of town and was a housewife. Ever since his father went to prison, she had fallen seriously ill repeatedly. There was no one on her side of the family, and the elders on his father’s side were gone too. There were only two aunts who had been unreachable since the incident.

“I estimate his family is living off previous savings and the monthly subsistence allowance. It might not even be enough for medical bills. He was going to drop out this semester, but Hu Xiujie and Old Ma went to talk to him several times. The school waived all tuition and fees and gives a 500 yuan meal subsidy every month, just to barely keep him there.” Dou Sheng sighed. “He’s barely attending school just to cash out the meal subsidy. At the start of the month when he gets the meal card, he resells it and eats instant noodles himself. I’ve seen it twice.”

Xie Lan listened, zoning out a bit, not knowing what to say.

He didn’t quite understand the convoluted family relations at the beginning, but he remembered the last thing Dou Sheng said—the reason Chen Ge was still willing to attend school wasn’t because he still held onto hope, but because he wanted the 500 yuan the school gave every month.

Just five hundred. The barbecue they had last time to celebrate the math exam cost over four hundred alone.

Xie Lan looked at the gloomy night outside the window. In a trance, he suddenly remembered the row of report cards posted next to the blackboard, and the short, abrupt horizontal line Chen Ge had left at the height of second place.

Dou Sheng spoke again in a low voice, “Regarding the concert, do you think he really doesn’t know we’re secretly giving him money? He probably just doesn’t dare to think too deeply about it. Once he thinks about it, he can’t accept the money. We all know that.”

Xie Lan turned to look at him. Dou Sheng was looking out the window as he said this, the emotion in his brows still very faint.

It was past eleven when the car arrived. The streetlights in the complex were reasonably bright. Xie Lan and Dou Sheng bypassed several old buildings before finally spotting four familiar figures at the corner of a building ahead.

Dou Sheng asked as soon as he approached, “Any suspicious people?”

Wang Gou spoke rapidly, shivering. “When we arrived, let me tell you, it was total silence! Couldn’t even see a shadow of a cloud in the sky. Yu Fei, good lord, righteous as the clouds, tried to charge the building directly. We dragged him back halfway. But we all saw it. In that winding corridor, right at Chen Ge’s door, squatted two fatties. One bald fatty wearing a big gold chain, one leopard-print fatty holding a big thick stick. They were positively…”

Yu Fei rolled his eyes and pressed down on his shoulder, muting him.

“I beg you, if you’re nervous, don’t talk. I have a headache.”

Wang Gou covered his mouth and nodded furiously.

Dou Sheng twitched his mouth speechlessly. “Just two? Are they smashing the door?”

Dai You shook his head. “There should be more than two. A group of people left when we entered the complex. The two up there now are probably just guarding the door.”

Che Ziming tugged at Dai You’s arm, adding in a whisper, “Probably debt collectors. Chen Ge still isn’t answering the phone. Are we going up?”

Dou Sheng frowned. “If it’s debt collection, it’s a bit troublesome. Can’t call the police immediately. Let’s wait and see.”

Xie Lan looked up. The lights in this entire unit were out. The voice-activated light in the fourth-floor stairwell extinguished and lit up periodically; presumably, those two blocking the door were there.

Dai You said, “Chen Ge is smart, he’s probably playing dead. As long as he doesn’t come out, these people can’t block the place forever.”

Dou Sheng acknowledged this. “Let’s wait here a while. Hopefully, we can wait until those two leave, then everyone goes home.”

Everyone agreed. Xie Lan looked up at the uniformly dark windows and sighed softly.

The streetlight was at the other end of the building. This corner was very dark; as long as they wanted to hide, they wouldn’t be discovered. The group scattered, some standing, some squatting. Dou Sheng leaned against the wall with both hands in his pockets, his right foot gently rubbing backward against the wall, looking like he was lost in thought.

Usually, he would scroll through Bilibili wherever he went, but now, stuck in boundless waiting, he just stared blankly.

Xie Lan watched him from the side. That tall, thin figure hidden in the gloom appeared somewhat lonely.

He suddenly remembered that casual remark Dou Sheng made at home—At this stage, Chen Ge is destined to suffer through it himself. Others cannot speak up.

“Hey.” Xie Lan called out to him subconsciously before he had thought it through.

Dou Sheng looked up. Those black eyes were peaceful as usual. When looking at him, a half-smile of warmth even welled up habitually, diluting the sense of loneliness from a moment ago.

“What’s up?”

The words at Xie Lan’s lips suddenly paused. He felt a bit lost, unsure how to begin.

Ask what? Did you have a similar experience? What happened when you were in middle school? Can you tell me?

His relationship with Dou Sheng was actually quite strange. Not distant, yet not close. He couldn’t think of any standing he had to righteously inquire.

Dou Sheng looked down at his feet. “You look so pale. Are there bugs here? Stand over here with me. If there are bugs, I’ll stomp them.”

As he spoke, he reached out and grabbed Xie Lan’s arm, pulling Xie Lan closer to his side.

The sensation of five fingers pressing against his skin was very distinct. It wasn’t until a while after he let go that Xie Lan gently tugged at his sleeve.

“F*ck.” Ahead, Che Ziming suddenly trotted back a few steps and shushed them. “Turns out that group went to eat! They’re back!”

As soon as his voice fell, noisy sounds came from the distance, piercing the silent night.

Five people, all counting as big burly men. Some were holding liquor bottles, walking unsteadily.

They walked to the entrance of Chen Ge’s unit. One of them spat on the ground. “The little bastard is at home. You must smash that door open for me tonight!”

The others responded with agreement. The footsteps of the mob thundered up the stairs. The corridor windows on every floor were open; the cursing voices were carried out by the wind, falling clearly into their ears. Soon, the thump thump thump of smashing and cursing came from upstairs, echoing through the entire complex.

Xie Lan looked up. The whole string of voice-activated lights had turned on. A few households turned on their lights one after another.

“Not good. They’re drunk.” Dou Sheng took out his phone. “I’m calling the cops. Che Ziming, call Chen Ge. Tell him not to come out no matter what.”

Che Ziming’s hands were trembling. He dialed, and a moment later put the phone down. “Switched off…”

The atmosphere instantly became tense. Dou Sheng turned his back and spoke in a low voice to the operator.

He didn’t mention debt collection, only saying eight or nine big men were blocking the door, and only a student and his mother were home, and they were scared.

Just as the call ended, a deafening boom suddenly came from upstairs, sounding like a steel pipe hitting the door so hard it exploded, making the eardrums of the people downstairs ache.

Then a neighbor finally opened their door. It was a man on the fifth floor, standing at the window between the fourth and fifth floors, roaring: “Smash, smash, smash! Smash your mother! Are you going to let people sleep? If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police! Wu Dongyan, can you come out and manage this? The whole building can’t sleep because of your family!”

Dou Sheng immediately turned and started up the stairs. “Bad. Chen Ge is going to lose his cool.”

The six of them shared the same premonition and shoved their way up the stairs. Dou Sheng was right in front of Xie Lan, taking three or four steps with each stride of his long legs. In moments, they scrambled up to the floor below Chen Ge’s unit.

The six of them slammed on the brakes. Almost at the exact same time, that security door, which had been smashed to create a dent, opened.

Chen Ge stepped out and said coldly, “I’ve already called the police. If you don’t get lost now, wait for the police to come.”

However, as soon as his voice fell, the leader grabbed his wrist and yanked him out. Compared to this group of big, rough men, Chen Ge’s lean frame lost its usual wiry strength and looked merely frail. He lifted his leg to sweep at the man’s stomach, but his foot was caught by another. The man twisted his leg and smashed an elbow hard into the back of his knee, swinging Chen Ge out like a sack.

Chen Ge landed on his butt on the stairs, tumbling down several steps backward before finally seeing Dou Sheng and the others.

Yu Fei tore off his jacket and threw it on the ground. “Damn it, bullying people too much, right?”

He rushed up and kicked that man backward two staggering steps, roaring: “Bean, hurry!”

The corridor exploded into chaos. The debt collectors cursed at the “little bastards” and surged down to beat them. Yu Fei held the line at the front. Dou Sheng grabbed Xie Lan with one hand and Chen Ge with the other, forcefully ramming a path through the pile of people. They finally managed to secure the area at Chen Ge’s door and braced the door that was about to be closed.

“In!” Dou Sheng roared. “Fish! Stop fighting!”

Yu Fei didn’t linger in the fight; he couldn’t gain an advantage among a group of thick-waisted men anyway. He turned around, delivering a series of kicks to knock away the people tearing at his arms, entered the door, grabbed a mop handle, and lashed out at a hand clinging to the door frame. A scream came from the pile of people outside. As soon as the hand retracted, Fish slammed the door shut with a thud.

The moment the lock clicked, the people outside immediately started kicking the door frantically again, the sound loud enough to cause a headache. Xie Lan felt pain in his arms and legs; he didn’t know how many punches and kicks he had taken while being pulled in by Dou Sheng. Dou Sheng was probably worse off than him.

“Everyone inside,” Dou Sheng said grumpily. “Go into the inner room, wait for the police.”

As he spoke, he let go of Chen Ge and continued pulling Xie Lan inside.

Xie Lan hissed.

“Wait!”

He instinctively called out to Dou Sheng, grabbing the hand Dou Sheng was using to pull his arm with his other hand. Only then did he barely stop the pain caused by the pulling.

The lights weren’t on in the room; it was pitch black. Xie Lan carefully extricated his left hand from Dou Sheng’s grip and tried to shake his arm out.

Before he could even finish the motion, his forearm muscle twitched violently, followed by severe pain.

Chen Ge turned on the living room light. Xie Lan finally saw a red mark on his left arm. It was likely from being struck by a stick, running diagonally from the outer wrist bone to the middle of the forearm. The surrounding flesh was swelling up rapidly.

__

Author’s Note:

The Egg House is ping-pong-pang-pang (chaotic noise), absolute mayhem.

The one typing on the keyboard arrives with the ambulance (120), tears swirling in eyes: Lan-Lan, my Lan…

…Lan…

Lazy Egg sits on the floor playing on a phone, a lollipop in its mouth.

Hi~ It raises the candy stick in greeting.

Bean Egg holds a magnifying glass, using tweezers to hold a band-aid, carefully trying to stick it onto the eggshell.

The keyboard typist is shocked: Who called 120? What happened to Lazy Egg?

Bean Egg says sadly: Bumped into something, the eggshell cracked!

The keyboard typist is heartbroken on the spot: Where? Let me see!

Bean Egg picks up the magnifying glass: Here!

…The keyboard typist pauses, slowly kneels down and gets close: Where?

Bean Egg points at the magnifying glass that shows nothing and says: Right here!