Three days later, the world waited.
A full seventy-two hours had passed since the Footpan Chicken prime minister's remarks.
Media outlets around the world were waiting.
Waiting for Rabbit Nation's official response, waiting for an authoritative voice to break the eerie silence.
But there was nothing.
On the fourth day, at the Rabbit Nation Foreign Ministry's routine press conference.
A white-haired reporter raised his hand. "Spokesperson, regarding the Footpan Chicken prime minister's statement—
that an incident involving them would be an incident involving Footpan Chicken, what is China's official response?"
The spokesperson opened his notebook, calmly swept his gaze across the sea of cameras below, then closed it.
"We are already aware."
There was no next question.
No further explanation.
No protest, no condemnation.
None of the diplomatic language customary under international practice.
The reporters looked at one another.
On the fifth day, the same press conference, the same question.
The spokesperson had changed, but the answer was exactly the same:
"We are already aware."
A foreign reporter in the press seating could not help following up:
"That's all? China has no further statement?"
The spokesperson looked at him and nodded.
"That's all. Next question."
That same day, Musical Note's trending list:
#WeAreAlreadyAware#
#RabbitNationSilentForFiveDays#
#CowardiceOrStrategy#
The three topics took turns dominating the rankings.
At two in the morning, Chen Yuan could not sleep again. He lay in bed scrolling through Musical Note.
His finger moved mechanically until a video caught his eye.
The screen showed a young man in his twenties wearing a baseball cap, with the balcony of some residential complex behind him.
He kept his voice low, as though sharing a secret:
"Brothers, it's been five days. A whole five days.
Footpan Chicken is practically spitting in our faces, and all we've got is one sentence: 'We are