Jiang Han tried not to spoil the mood. She leaned back against the bed, pulled the covers over herself, yawned, and answered the request to watch a movie:
"I don't object."
Unfortunately, she had still spoiled the mood.
Du Lingxuan folded her arms, pressed her lips together, then raised her right hand and declared with absolute conviction:
"This one's really interesting. Nana recommended it to me."
"Then it should be worth trusting."
Jiang Han echoed her, but it was a lie, because a witch's taste was not to be trusted.
She rarely watched witch movies. Progress in one thing often brought a corresponding regression elsewhere. Immortal witches could not feel the sorrow of short-lived races; witches forever in the springtime of youth could not feel the grief of beauty fading away. They did not know the white hair upon their parents' heads, the stooped bodies of their teachers and elders, or the partings of life and death.
Lacking so many such elements, they could not comprehend the art created by mortals who experienced a thousand years in a second within Hamster Balls. Nor did they ever choose to make films on related subjects.
Entertainment, and explosive blockbuster films, permeated every corner of the Witch World film industry.
Jiang Han had watched a few, but she could not say which ones were good or bad.
So she did not like them.
When she turned on the television, she generally watched wildly popular dramas instead. Witches were actually best at making serials—after all, any given day in a witch's life could be made up of miracles and accidents.
Besides that, documentaries were rather interesting.
Thanks to witches' lifespans, a documentary often took decades to complete. Most of the boring parts would be cut away, leaving only the interesting things, introduced to other