Couldn't Think of a Title

Fatty Xin picked up a clove of bright green sweet-and-sour garlic from the small dish in Zheng Qing's hand, stuffed it into his mouth, and crunched on it a few times. Then he looked up at the young publicly funded student with tear-filled eyes and repeated the question he had asked countless times:

"Have you seen my Pipi Rat?"

"Hurry up and eat. The buns won't taste good once they get cold." Zheng Qing avoided answering the question the fat man cared about most, merely brushing him off before lowering his head to sip his rice porridge.

Just then, the thick scarlet curtain behind them was yanked open with a swish.

"If you warm up a bag of type AB virgin blood for me, I'll agree to keep an eye out for that dead rat of yours." At some point, Dylan had opened his Coffin lid. Half his pale face emerged from behind the curtain as he weakly swept his gaze around the dormitory and complained, "Don't you people sleep during the day? I feel like I only closed my Coffin lid five minutes ago before you woke me up with all this noise..."

"You could try adjusting your schedule." Zheng Qing was delighted that someone had changed the subject and quickly chimed in, offering the Vampire Werewolf his suggestion. "You're not especially sensitive to sunlight anyway, so you could try following Friedman's or Matthew's schedule..."

"That's not traditional!" Dylan rejected the suggestion outright. "A real Vampire should go out at night and sleep during the day!"

The young publicly funded student shrugged helplessly.

Holding a cup of soy milk, the fat man's lips moved as though he had murmured something. But his voice was so quiet that Zheng Qing did not notice it at all.

Xiao Xiao, standing on