Tang Yu held his breath and opened the dorm room door. He had expected to see a mess, but instead…
What met his eyes were two bulging sacks. Aside from those two sacks, the dorm looked untouched. The senior’s bed was still hidden behind a long, fully drawn curtain.
Nothing seems to have changed?
No.
Tang Yu looked down at the floor.
Because the floor was dusty, the players’ footprints were clearly visible.
Following the trail of chaotic steps, Tang Yu saw that they all converged in front of the senior’s bed.
Tang Yu froze in place. He reached out to touch the dark curtain, but right before contact, his hand retracted. His long eyelashes trembled—he didn’t dare to imagine what the players might have done to the senior’s bed.
“…Senior?” Worried that the senior was napping, Tang Yu’s voice was very soft.
From behind the black curtain came Li Sheng’s cold voice: “What is it.”
When you can’t see someone’s face or expression, you rely entirely on their tone to guess their emotions.
Li Sheng’s tone was flat, his voice cold. Even when asking a question, it sounded more like a command—like a warning: If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, get lost.
“Senior, someone helped me move my living supplies into the dorm this morning. I don’t know if they disturbed you…” Tang Yu’s voice grew quieter and quieter. His long, thick lashes drooped. He looked as if guilt and remorse might overflow into tears.
He didn’t actually cry. It’s just that his skin was so pale, the skin around his eyes thin and flushed. With his eyes lowered and those absurdly long lashes drooping, he exuded a kind of pure and fragile sadness.
He was the kind of person who made it hard to blame him—one would only want to comfort him gently.
No one said anything. The silence was terrifying.
Li Sheng didn’t respond at all. Tang Yu thought—maybe this silence was already a clear statement.
“…I’m sorry.” Tang Yu lowered his head, exposing a pale neck. “Senior, I’m willing to compensate for any damage they caused. If possible, I’ll take care of the dorm cleaning from now on.”
This was the solution Tang Yu had been pondering all the way here.
Aside from compensating for the actual losses the senior suffered because of the players, providing labor as restitution was also a feasible option.
The amount of dust in the dorm showed that Li Sheng wasn’t particularly fond of cleaning. Plus, his stat panel listed his constitution as 1. Tang Yu had never seen a living person with a constitution of 1—only critically ill patients in the hospital ever had a 2 or 3. Li Sheng always lay in bed; presumably, his body was too frail to even manage basic dorm cleaning.
The room’s air pressure seemed to drop noticeably. After a moment, two ice-cold words floated out from behind the curtain: “Idiot.”
It was unclear who or what exactly he was insulting.
Tang Yu blinked. He didn’t mind words like “idiot” or “moron”—after all, he had a stat panel constantly reminding him that his intelligence was a measly 5.
Li Sheng had such high intelligence stats on his panel that he was qualified to call him an idiot. Tang Yu knew better than anyone else that every point of intelligence on a stat panel represented a chasm that hard work alone could never bridge.
He had realized that on his first day of school, when he saw the intelligence attributes of all his classmates.
Still, he rarely got called “stupid” or “idiot” to his face. And even if someone did call him that, all he had to do was look them in the eye and calmly say “ugly” to completely shut them down.
Tang Yu’s mind began to drift off, his expression going blank in a dazed way. With his eyes still slightly red from lack of sleep, he looked as though he were genuinely saddened and speechless by the insult.
“…You don’t have to do any of the cleaning.” A voice tossed that line out from behind the curtain.
Tang Yu didn’t catch the beginning, only the part about cleaning.
The dorm really did need a bit of a tidy-up—otherwise the dust on the desk was enough to make him lose his appetite.
He set his lunch down on the desk, looking like he couldn’t even spare time to eat, and walked straight to the door, determined to prove the sincerity of his apology through action.
Ding dong!
The message notification rang.
Tang Yu stopped in his tracks and pulled out his phone. It was a message from Shen Junxing: “Little Yu, I left your lunch downstairs in the dorm building.”
Unlike this morning, when breakfast had been placed right outside the dorm room, Shen Junxing deliberately emphasized that he left it downstairs, as if to say he hadn’t come up to Tang Yu’s room again.
Tang Yu instinctively glanced toward the corridor. Empty. Very quiet.
Without thinking too much, he casually shut the door.
The thin wooden door divided inside from outside. Inside, Tang Yu had no idea that the moment he closed it, massive shadows suddenly erupted from both ends of the corridor, surging like an underground river, flooding the hallway and rushing toward the door of room 623 as if ready to burst through at any moment.
But just in front of the door, there was a small gap in the advancing shadow. If one looked closely, they would see a palm-sized paper effigy standing guard like a door god.
Compared to the shadow, the paper effigy was minuscule, almost negligible—but it stood proud and fierce, raising its tiny legs to stomp furiously at the edge of the shadow, aggressively forcing it back.
When that failed, the shadow surged up the walls, cascading down like splashed ink, trying another route into the room.
The next second, the paper effigy floated into the air, light as a feather, and pinned down the redirected shadow from above.
Once again blocked, the shadow seemed enraged, wrapping around the paper effigy in a vortex of darkness that threatened to shred it to pieces.
But the paper effigy, swept up in the shadowy current, drifted with the flow and easily slipped free, returning to its guard post before the door.
A fierce back-and-forth ensued.
But one was flat, one was dimensional—like a battle between 2D and 3D. The paper effigy couldn’t stomp out the shadow, but the shadow couldn’t tear apart the paper man either.
This chaotic scuffle outside the door looked like a cartoon. Yet its only intended viewer was now inside, blocked off by that same door, holding a broom and wondering where to start cleaning.
Hmm, probably best to move those two big sacks first.
Tang Yu put down the broom. Just as he headed toward the sacks, more message alerts began pinging one after another.
Shen Junxing: “By the way, Little Yu, did you leave all your daily supplies in the dorm without unpacking? Since I’m still here after dropping off lunch, how about I come up and help you sort things out?”
Shen Junxing: “There’s so much stuff. It must be tough doing it all alone.”
Shen Junxing: “You’ve never had to do any hard work since we met.”
Shen Junxing: “Just thinking about you living in a strange new place, enduring conditions far worse than at home, and having to do everything by yourself—it breaks my heart.”
Shen Junxing: “Even if your new roommate offers to help, I know you wouldn’t let a stranger do too much. And college guys? They don’t know the first thing about cleaning and organizing. How could they compare to me—skilled and meticulous?”
Shen Junxing: “[Proud puppy.jpg]”
Shen Junxing usually talked a lot, but today it seemed like he had even more to say than usual.
Before Tang Yu could decide how to reply, a voice rang out inside the dorm.
“Tang Yu, I have something downstairs—a stack of blank paper. Go get it for me.”
Even when making a request, Li Sheng sounded like he was giving an order.
Someone with a worse temper might get annoyed, but Tang Yu didn’t mind. “Okay.”
He swung the door open. The hallway was still empty.
Tang Yu didn’t look down—so he didn’t see the tiny paper effigy quietly standing by the door’s edge.
Nor did he see a shadow creeping around his foot as he stepped out. A ripple formed at its edge.
Gazing forward, Tang Yu stepped on the lingering shadow and walked toward the stairwell. As he turned to head down, the shadow surged up and enveloped the paper effigy.
This time, the paper effigy didn’t even bother engaging. It stomped lazily once or twice, just for show—and the door creaked open a sliver.
Through the crack, one could see countless white paper effigies flying out from behind the black curtain, like a blizzard, or a flock of doves circling overhead.
Four or five small paper effigies teamed up to grab the broom and frantically started sweeping the floor from the door inward, so fast that sparks nearly flew. Before long, these white paper effigies had turned gray.
When they reached the two massive sacks blocking the way, others rushed over to lift them. It looked like ants hoisting elephants as they waddled with their tiny legs, clearing the path for cleaning.
Dust flew everywhere. Flying paper effigies zipped through it, untying the sacks, diving inside like diligent little bees. They bustled in and out, sorting Tang Yu’s daily items one by one.
The paper effigies weren’t large, but they carried, lifted, dragged, and hauled everything around, turning the once-empty dorm into a chaotic mess.
The most attention-grabbing scene was four paper effigies each holding a corner of a bedsheet, hovering over Tang Yu’s dusty bed. They didn’t descend immediately, seemingly waiting for something.
Below, one paper effigy struggled up the bed’s ladder with a water basin full to the brim. With every hop, water splashed everywhere, sending nearby paper effigies scattering in panic.
Only one paper effigy carrying a stiff cleaning rag stuck close, staring anxiously at the water.
In the next second, another paper effigy kicked it down.
The poor figure, now soaking wet with rag in tow, dragged itself from the basin and began scrubbing the bed in earnest, not even stopping to argue with the one who kicked it.
That kicker didn’t rest either. It grabbed tissues and began furiously wiping the wet spots. When the tissues tore, it simply pressed its own body to the bed to wipe with itself.
Wet and dry, the two paper effigies ran laps across the bedboard until they were finally replaced by others.
The four still holding the bedsheet dropped gracefully, laying it smoothly over the clean surface—without a single wrinkle.
Moments later, pillows and blankets were dropped in place by the next wave of paper effigies.
Inside, the paper effigies were working up a storm.
Outside, the shadow watching through the door crack was frantic, desperate to charge in and wreck everything.
But it was too late—more and more paper effigies were flying out, forming a line at the door, holding hands, and furiously stomping at the shadow’s onslaught.
…
Tang Yu stood at the storage basket downstairs in the dorm building and saw the stack of white paper the senior had mentioned, along with the lunchbox Shen Junxing had left for him.
Tang Yu let out a soft sigh. He took out his phone and sent a message to Shen Junxing: “You don’t need to bring me food, and you don’t need to help me clean. I can take care of myself.”
Shen Junxing, who usually replied quickly, didn’t respond right away this time—perhaps he was delayed by something.
Holding the papers in one arm and the lunchbox in the other, Tang Yu trudged upstairs with heavy steps.
Maybe one benefit of living in the dorms is that climbing stairs every day counts as exercise? Panting by the time he reached the fourth floor, Tang Yu tried to find humor in his struggle.
A strange sensation of being watched came from above. Tang Yu looked up—but saw nothing.
…
Lying near the fifth-floor stairwell, a tiny paper effigy stared eagerly at Tang Yu, who had stopped on the fourth floor. When Tang Yu looked up, the little paper effigy jumped in fright and instantly curled up into a ball in the corner, hugging its arms and legs to itself.
Hearing no footsteps, the crumpled paper ball unfolded back into a wrinkled little paper person, then flew up toward the sixth floor in a flash. It darted through a door crack, dodging looming shadows, and urgently rustled a message to the many other paper effigies inside the room.
The next moment, every paper effigy that received the message panicked and began moving faster.
One little paper person, carrying a basin of dirty water, rushed toward the bathroom and slipped in its haste—spilling dirty water all over the freshly cleaned floor.
A shadow outside the door wavered, as if laughing at the scene.
The little paper effigies engaged in an ongoing battle with the shadow had no time to care. Some quickly retreated, leaving a few to hold the defensive line. The rest joined the cleanup crew, working together to mop up the water and restore the floor to a sparkling shine. However, the spotless floor now reflected the dirty ceiling and an old electric fan above.
…
Tang Yu, having regained a bit of strength, continued his climb upstairs. Thinking of his yet-to-be-unpacked dorm room, he had a sinking feeling it was going to be a tough job. He wasn’t sure if he could finish it all in one afternoon.
He sighed again at the thought.
As he reached the sixth-floor stairwell and stepped into the hallway, he heard odd noises—uncertain which room they came from. If he listened closely, there were splashes and thuds, like someone was doing a deep clean.
Getting closer, Tang Yu heard an even stranger sound.
It was like wind blowing through a forest of endless leaves—or like a summer breeze rushing into a classroom, flipping open pages of books.
Following the sound, he arrived at room 623. At that moment, all the noise abruptly stopped. The world fell silent, peaceful.
Tang Yu reached out and opened the door.
The next second, he stepped back in shock, glancing at the door number above. Confirming it was indeed 623, he blinked hard and stared dumbfounded into the spotless dorm room.
The green curtains were drawn back on either side, allowing sunlight to flood in from the balcony, casting golden light across the room.
The walls looked freshly painted white. The ladder and bed rails were free of rust, gleaming like new. Everything in sight was clean and organized. The burlap sacks were gone, and the items inside them had been neatly arranged. The glossy floor—polished who knows how many times—reflected the now-transformed dorm like a mirror.
…What happened?
Tang Yu raised his foot slightly but didn’t dare step on the overly clean floor. He stood at the doorway, bewildered. “Can I come in?”
“You can,” came Li Sheng’s calm voice.
“Senior, did… did someone clean the room just now?” Tang Yu, still in shock, instinctively guessed it must have been Shen Junxing who’d snuck in to clean—after all, Li Sheng didn’t seem like the type… the type to do this kind of thing. “Did my friend come in and clean while I was away?”
Just as Tang Yu made that guess, a cold voice replied from behind the bed curtain almost instantly: “I cleaned it.”
Word by word. Firm and undeniable. Leaving no room for doubt.
Tang Yu began to question if he was hallucinating—had he misheard?
Senior Li Sheng, in such a short time, had cleaned the entire dorm?
Was that even possible?
Oh, but his character stats were really high—he did seem like he might have special abilities like Shen Junxing. Thinking of it that way… maybe it did make sense?
“Senior…” Tang Yu looked up at the impeccably clean old electric fan—a testament to the senior’s work.
He blinked, dazed. Sunlight poured over his face, lighting up his moist blue eyes like a glimmering sea—brimming with admiration and awe. “…That’s amazing.”
There was a pause of two seconds behind the curtain before a cold snort replied.
A breeze from the balcony stirred the dark curtain, which swayed slightly. For some reason, the wind also moved something on the old fan, and a small white object suddenly dropped from one of the blades and landed on the floor.
Hearing the sound, Tang Yu looked down in surprise and spotted a wet little paper effigy at his feet.
“Huh?” Tang Yu crouched down and found a palm-sized paper effigy. It had two round black eyes, a small nose, and a straight-line mouth—but it had been soaked, and the ink had bled. The eyes left two smudged trails, making it look like it had cried. The mouth was curved down sadly.
Was this…
A little paper effigy some former dorm resident had made?
Tang Yu gently picked it up, cradling the damp figure in his hands.
He lowered his eyes, gazing intently at the paper doll. His long lashes shimmered like golden thread, and his blue eyes—clear and tinged with melancholy—glimmered faintly as if they had something to say.
Then his eyes curved into a gentle smile. Tang Yu cupped his hands together and whispered softly through the gap: “You’re really cute.”
As soon as he said that, with no wind blowing, the black curtain swayed twice.
Tang Yu looked up. Strangely, he felt the light around him dim. Heavy shadows crept over the balcony. Though it was midday, Tang Yu suddenly had the eerie feeling of looming storm clouds.
What changeable weather…
Tang Yu thought.
