That evening, under the pretext of going out for dinner, Jiang Han slipped over to Eileen's place.
She entered the second floor of Eileen's nest. Curled up in a lazy-cat sofa blanketed in pure gold feathers—the softest material in the world—was Eileen, dressed in a full set of golden robes with enormous curled golden horns atop her head. She was flipping through a collection of strange tales, occasionally letting out laughter that was clear and pleasant, yet utterly bewitching.
She seemed to have become obsessed with novels lately.
Every so often, she even posted notifications about novel sales and discounts on her personal website.
Only when she saw Jiang Han walk in did she straighten up, sitting upright rather like a dragon.
She stretched, and those heavy, ripe fruits utterly disproportionate to her height bounced twice.
Worthy indeed of the Earth Mother Goddess's abundance.
Jiang Han raised the paper bag she had brought along and gave it a light shake. "Want some fried chicken? The fried chicken here seems to be called karaage, and it's really good with croquettes."
The rich scent of fried food wafted out from the bag.
"Perfect timing, sister. I was just thinking of having something."
Eileen stretched out a foot wrapped in dark gold stockings, slipped it into a fluffy slipper, then yawned as she walked over. "The scenery here really is different from many other places. Even the Folded Spaces are interesting. I came across a hidden Folded Space and was treated quite well by the Tea Soup Giant Cat Lamp inside. Very interesting. She said, 'Even meow-aos deep in the old forests subscribe to witches' newspapers.' No wonder the Bureau of Statistics receives so many paid parcels of unknown origin every year, while so many newspaper copies go missing."
"I see. That really