Old Yao said spring rain was coming.
So the spring rain began to fall.
Not long after the morning classes ended, a fine drizzle had dampened the Bluestone Path in front of the teaching building. On his way back to the dorm after Late Ancient Arts Studies, Zheng Qing could not help but reflect that, in a sense, this could be considered an ability where one's words became law.
After the buffer of two classes—especially one on Time Conversion—the aftereffects of Zheng Qing's morning meeting with Su Shijun had faded considerably. At the very least, he would not space out or get a nosebleed at the drop of a hat anymore.
But there were two kinds of aftereffects.
One belonged to the people involved, such as spacing out or getting nosebleeds; the other belonged to bystanders, mainly manifesting as the gossiping urges of third-party spectators.
After lunch, Zheng Qing had barely returned to the dorm when the door slammed shut behind him with a heavy bang.
Like a sumo wrestler in the ring, Fatty Xin planted his feet wide, bent at the waist and raised his head, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared brightly at the prey that had fallen into his trap, wearing an expression that said Zheng Qing was finished.
"Don't even think about running!"
He clapped his hands imposingly, then stomped his feet. His entire body instantly swelled several sizes, nearly filling the dorm door behind him. "Confess honestly, and perhaps I'll spare your life!"
"What problem?"
Zheng Qing slowly took two steps back, asking knowingly as the corner of his eye flicked toward the balcony. He began considering whether he should turn into a cat and escape.
Xiao Xiao appeared at the edge of his vision, holding Tuantuan and smiling pleasantly.
Zheng Qing