Creak.
The sound of a coffin lid being lifted interrupted the young publicly funded student's somewhat pessimistic last words.
Dylan's groggy voice followed. "A gravestone? Who needs a gravestone? I know an eight-hundred-year-old shop with incredibly beautiful carvings..."
The allure of graveyards and death to Mr. Vampire Werewolf was roughly equivalent to the allure of a gourmet magazine to the Fat Wizard. No wonder he could crawl out of his coffin despite the noontime drowsiness.
But the response from inside the coffin—such an ominous sign—was terribly ill-timed, and only made the young publicly funded student feel even more dejected.
Zheng Qing made a strange sound in his throat, like a whimper, yet also like a feeble laugh, in answer to the voice from the coffin.
The string of unexpected events also interrupted the rage the Fat Wizard had been building up for so long.
He frowned at the enormous pile of letters and paper cranes before the young publicly funded student, casually picked up a few envelopes, and read them. The blue tint in his face immediately faded considerably.
"Don't think I'm going to forgive you just because people are cursing you."
He muttered as his body gradually returned to normal, then began grumbling, "I stopped using this kind of retreat-to-advance tactic after I turned ten..."
As he spoke, he glanced at the Vampire Werewolf slumped against the edge of the coffin, seemingly about to fall asleep again. A malicious smile appeared on his face. "Ha, Dylan probably doesn't know yet... Councilwoman Su's husband has been found!"
Zheng Qing hung his head and let him stir things up.
"Found... found him?" Dylan vaguely caught a few words. His sluggish brain seemed to have been dunked in ice water, and he instantly woke up. "Found him? Who? Someone from our school?