What did a little mud matter?
It was nothing more than a bit of wind and frost!
"Soon! Soon! The day when you, Fox Spirit, are suppressed isn't far off." Zhang Chen wiped a clump of rotten "wind and frost" from his forehead, constantly encouraging himself inwardly.
He truly felt it would be soon now!
Standing before the door, Zhang Chen watched rainwater stream down the Rice Straw as he wiped the mud from his face. He was thoroughly speechless toward the Fox Spirit. At that moment, he dearly wanted to grab her by the head and ask, "Could you be a little more mature? Is it fun to play like this every day?"
So childish!
A complete childish ghost!
"How could I get angry with a childish ghost?" Zhang Chen muttered irritably. He then used the rainwater to wash the mud from his face clean before slowly entering the house, stripping off his soaked clothes, and lying back down on the bed to sleep.
Thunder rumbled outside, and faint, elusive dragon roars seemed to echo between heaven and earth. But Zhang Chen was exhausted now and did not think much of it, merely turning over and going back to sleep.
The next day.
The faint sound of reading drifted over from next door, waking Zhang Chen from his deep sleep. Listening to the sounds of classical recitation next door, he pulled the blanket over his head. Yet the voices seemed to possess some magic, drilling relentlessly into his mind. In the end, Zhang Chen could endure it no longer and sat bolt upright, looking out the window. The rain outside was still falling in a fine, pattering drizzle.
"It rained all night and still hasn't stopped?" Zhang Chen was somewhat curious. He cooked some rice and took a bite,