Late at night, and not even in his own home, Dong Xuebin sat in the first-floor living room of Fang Wenping's house, blinking his not-so-large eyes. Other than the television, there was no sound at all. He was the only one left downstairs, and he did not know what to say. Big Sister Fang had sure left briskly—she just walked off and went to bed, leaving him behind? What did she mean, wait for his clothes to dry? Looking at how soaked they were, he would have to wait until the middle of the night. Was he supposed to sit here like an idiot all night? Should he stay over? But would that be appropriate?
You were really something.
At least find me some clothes.
Didn't you have a suit or something? A women's suit would be one thing, but suit pants generally didn't distinguish much between men and women, right? Why couldn't I wear those? Even a hair dryer or an iron would do. I could blow-dry them or iron them, maybe they'd dry faster. But you just turned around and went to sleep without caring about anything. If I'd known it would be like this, I wouldn't have come today.
For several minutes, Dong Xuebin sat there agonizing over it.
In the end, Dong Xuebin felt his clothes again—thermal shirt, thermal pants, outer shirt, outer pants, and underwear. There were too many layers. Even with a hair dryer, they probably would not be dry until dawn. Besides, he did not have the patience to sit there huffing and puffing over his clothes with a tiny hair dryer. Wasn't that exhausting? Finally, Dong Xuebin made up his mind—he would not leave. He would stay the night. Her house had plenty of rooms; just from the living room, he could