Zephyr forced his gaze aside, then squeezed a few words through gritted teeth.
"N-not bad."
Heaven only knew how much Zephyr had to betray his conscience to say something like "not bad."
J-just think of it as doing it for our little angel Christa, Zephyr told himself.
Actually, even Christa could write better than this...
"Y-yes, exactly! It's really nice, Randall!"
Christa chimed in, her face plastered with a stiff smile.
"Really?" Randall said happily.
"Since you like it so much, I'll go put it up by the gate right now."
With that, he took the Spring Festival couplets and headed outside.
Zephyr let out a sigh of relief.
Then he exchanged a glance with Christa, and they both sighed.
A moment later, Zephyr frowned.
Wait a second. Wasn't this his house?!
His expression changed at once, and he hurried after Randall.
"W-wait! You little brat, stop right there!"
But he was still a step too late.
By the time he reached the gate, Randall had already put up the couplets.
Two strips of dark red paper now flanked the quaint gate to the Courtyard.
The dozen or so crooked, crawling-bug-like characters on them made his skin crawl.
The first line, on the right, read: Spent two months stuck, with nothing to write.
The second line, on the left, read: Thought for three days, scraped together two lines of crap.
Centered above the gate was a horizontal inscription: Words are good enough!
Zephyr's expression looked something like this:
(°ー°〃)
Then it quickly turned into: Σ( ° △ °|||)︴
You brat, what have you done to my gate?!
┴┴︵╰(‵□′)╯︵┴┴
The gate: I've been defiled.
"M-my gate..."
With tears in his eyes, Zephyr looked at his old companion, subjected to such humiliation, and felt a bitter pang.
*I failed to protect you,